HBP Spoiler
A/N: I would like to thank my wonderfully fantabulous beta, megan_lupin, who was absolutely superb, and of course, I would like to thank the incredible J. K. Rowling. Thank you for sharing your world with us and encouraging our creative talents by allowing us to borrow your characters and bend them all to whatever whim or fancy takes us.
Now, on with the story…
“Phoradendron Leucarpum”
By: Lady Knightly (a.k.a Rita Skeeter)
The prefects’ bathroom was rather nice when no one was around, Neville thought to himself as he set his towel aside and submerged himself in the foamy, glistening water of the pool. As he finally relaxed for the first time in what felt like years, Neville took a moment to be grateful that since nearly three quarters of the school was gone, McGonagall had invited all the remaining Gryffindors to use the bathroom. But even so, it looked like Neville was the only one that took her up on the offer.
The Christmas holidays had finally come and, like every bathroom in the castle, Hogwarts itself seemed as empty as a tomb. Gryffindor Tower in particular seemed painfully lonely.
Without Harry, Ron, Ginny, and especially Hermione, Neville felt more alone these days than he had during those first terrible months of his first year (and that was saying something). Now that the fight against Voldemort was in the midst of its final strides, almost everyone Neville knew appeared to be stuck right in the middle of it. It seemed like half of Hogwarts had left the castle in order to avenge their beloved Headmaster’s death, and with the start of Christmas break, now the other half of the students had left because their parents wouldn’t dream of leaving their children at Hogwarts for the holidays without the wizened old Dumbledore to look over them.
Neville’s grandmother felt the same way, and she had sent him countless letters, pleading with him to come home, but Neville just couldn’t find it in his heart to leave the old castle.
He already felt like a coward, staying behind while others charged out into battle. But at the same time, Neville felt that at least by staying at Hogwarts, he might be making some sort of stand, because who knew what might happen? What if there was another attack on the castle? Who would hold down the fort?
Now, Neville had no delusions of ever being the sort of flag-brandishing hero who would defend Hogwarts castle with every last breath in his body, but he figured that he had been through quite a lot more than most people. (After all, that was what being a friend to the infamous trio entailed). It might be good, he thought, for Hogwarts to have someone with a little experience.
Therefore, with every one of his grandmother’s letters, Neville bravely replied with the same three simple words: I’m staying here.
And stay there he would…but not in the bathtub because his hands were starting to prune.
Neville searched around for the ladder to get out of the pool, but with all the fog and bubbles in the air, it was a rather difficult thing to do. So instead, he tried to pull himself directly out of the water and onto the marble floor, but this plan did not go quite as smoothly as he had hoped. The water that he had splashed about earlier, (when he had been giving orders to his imaginary fleet of armored hippogriffs”but you didn’t hear it from me), had made the floor around the pool very slippery. The moment Neville attempted to put his weight on his hands, they slipped out from under him, and he catapulted backwards into the pool with a spectacular splash.
After he had resurfaced and finished blowing soap bubbles out of his nose, Neville heard what he could have sworn were the last echoes of a giggle. He cleaned his ears out thoroughly, but the noise had already disappeared.
It was awhile before Neville’s feet finally found the rungs of the ladder, but once they had, he didn’t have much trouble getting the rest of the way out of the pool. With his eyes half-blinded by the soapy water, he groped the ground at his feet, and as his fingers wrapped around thick cotton cloth, he was instantly grateful that he had had the foresight to place his towel nearby.
Once his face was dry and the air had lost most of its purple fog, Neville easily found his clothes and started to put them on, his mind lost in bitter, lonely thoughts. In fact, he was soon so lost in self pity that he didn’t even notice that one of his socks was falling into the pool until, quite suddenly, someone pointed it out to him.
“You’re about to lose a sock,” said a gloomy voice from somewhere directly behind Neville’s head. At the sound, Neville gave a small squeak in surprise and instantly scrambled to his feet. He looked wildly around for the source of the voice”he was almost certain it had been a girl’s”and soon found himself staring face to transparent face with what he could only assume was his worst nightmare.
“Well, you’ve completely lost it now,” continued the ghost girl, looking over Neville’s shoulder and into the pool behind him. “I would fetch it for you, but I’m afraid I’m not very good at picking things up.” She waved two unmistakably see-through hands in front of his face.
Neville cleared his throat and attempted to find a suitable reply, but for the life of him, he couldn’t make his vocal cords cooperate. “Who…you?” he finally managed to rasp out.
The girl paused, as though taken aback by the question. Then she narrowed her eyes and gave him a suspicious look. “Who do you think I am?” she asked slyly.
“Surely not someone who’s allowed in here!” Neville blurted out before he had time to think about a clear response. “You”you’re a girl!” And as he spoke, Neville was suddenly hit by the realization that he had been completely naked only a short while ago. At this thought, he felt his face grow warm with embarrassment.
The girl, in return, puckered her gossamer mouth and gave him a sullen look. “I wasn’t looking when you got in, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Her face fell a little. “And technically speaking, I’m not really a girl”I’m a ghost…as if you couldn’t tell.” The girl’s eyebrows drew together and Neville could tell she was trying to fight off tears.
Neville was shocked; he had no idea what had brought on this sudden change in emotions, but he was not looking forward to comforting a crying ghost.
“Er…” he said, feeling at the same time as though he had never had a more awkward conversation in his life. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked.
Once again, she looked surprised by the question. “Well, if you don’t know, I’m not going to tell you.” She crossed her arms over her chest (though Neville could still see straight through her to the wall on the other side), and huffed audibly.
“Uh…that’s fine,” Neville replied and, bending down, picked up the rest of his clothes. Right now, the only thing he wanted to do was get out of that bathroom as fast as he could. He absolutely detested awkward situations, though he was in no way a stranger to them. But just as he turned to go, the girl whipped around in front of him, blocking his path.
“Oh, alright,” the girl said, sounding exasperated. “My name is Myrtle. But if you make fun of me, I swear I’ll haunt you for a week!”
The realization of who this girl was finally dawned on Neville. “Oh, you’re Moaning Myrtle,” he gasped. “I always thought Harry was talking about a crazy, depressed aunt of his or something.”
Myrtle’s jaw dropped and she gave him a scathing look. “You thought I was who? Is that what he’s been saying about me? That I’m crazy? How dare he! I helped him!” Myrtle suddenly gave a shriek of anger and, shooting past Neville, dove into the bathtub with a tremendous splash.
Frightened despite himself, Neville made no attempt to rescue his rampant sock and sprinted out of the room as fast as his bare feet could carry him.
Neville finally slowed down somewhere on the fifth floor, realizing at once that he had gotten himself lost. Again. Cursing Moaning Myrtle and all the rest of the Hogwarts ghosts for good measure, Neville closed his eyes and tried to visualize a map of the castle in his head. Needless to say, this did not do him much good, and in addition, only made his head hurt. Finally, he gave a sigh of defeat and began walking back the way he had come, hoping he might find a staircase along the way.
Normally, Neville would be worried about meeting Peeves, but since Dumbledore had died, the old prankster just wasn’t the same anymore. On the rare occasion that he appeared in the halls, all anyone had to do was tell him to go away, and he would turn right back around, grumbling quietly to himself. In fact, Neville sort of hoped he would run into Peeves. Maybe he could coax the poltergeist into giving him some directions.
Neville did fear, however, meeting the Bloody Baron. That ghost seemed to have become particularly nasty since Snape disappeared, and now McGonagall was the only person in the castle who had the authority to keep him in check, albeit just barely.
I wonder if Peeves ever bothers the Bloody Baron, Neville thought as he came to an intersection and, shrugging, turned left. I don’t really see how. It’s not like he could chuck wastebaskets at him or anything…
“BOO!”
Suddenly, a flash of blue light jumped out from behind a closed door to Neville’s right. It frightened him so much that he shrieked and fell over his own feet as he tried to run in every direction at once. “Don’t hurt me! What do you want? Who…Myrtle?”
The glowing apparition howled with laughter, clutching her stomach as silver tears collected at the corners of her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” Neville demanded sharply, trying to sound unphased even though his hands were shaking like mad. With as much dignity as he could muster, Neville slowly got to his feet while Myrtle caught her breath.
“Well,” she said at last, smirking like a jack-o-lantern and sounding openly pleased with herself. “Peeves came to visit me a little while ago and said he saw a poor, ikkle boy running around the fifth floor, lost as could be and with only one sock. Of course I knew it had to be you, so I””
“You came to help me?” Neville suggested hopefully.
“No, silly! I came to laugh at you!”
Neville narrowed his eyes as Myrtle broke into a new fit of giggles.
“Fine,” he said. “You’ve laughed at me. Can you go away now?”
“Oh, but my bathroom is so boring,” she complained, grinning. “Watching you run around like a confused, little mouse is so much more entertaining.”
Neville didn’t say anything but started on his way again, making a firm resolution that no matter what she said, he would ignore her. However, this plan turned out to be much more difficult than Neville had anticipated…
“I wouldn’t go that way if I were you,” she said in her most annoying sing-song voice.
Neville paused, torn between acknowledging her and taking her advice, or pretending not to hear her and continuing on with his chosen path. Finally, he decided to continue on, but the hallway only led to a dead end. Then he back-tracked and tried again, but soon ended up exactly where he had started. This only caused Myrtle to start laughing again, and Neville felt his face grow hot, now even more thoroughly embarrassed.
“You might as well talk to me,” Myrtle said after a time, as Neville arrived at another intersection that he knew he had been through at least twice already. “If you’re nice, I might even point you in the right direction.”
It was then that Neville at last decided to swallow his pride (what little he had left, anyways), and at least try to make friends with his ghostly companion. “Alright,” he said. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Oh, I don’t care,” she replied, suddenly sounding dreary again. “I don’t suppose we would have much in common…You’ve never died, have you?”
“Um…no.” Neville was starting to feel uncomfortable already. “What”what’s your favorite animal?” he countered lamely, unable to think of anything else to say.
“Hm,” she said thoughtfully. “Well, in school, I had a pet turtle named Avery”Don’t laugh! My grandmother gave him to me when she found out I was going to Hogwarts. I didn’t pick him out or anything.”
Neville did a double take, and Myrtle gave him an inquiring look.
“What?” she snapped. “Yes, I know turtles aren’t particularly magical, but Dumbledore said it was alright as long as I””
Neville shook his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just”I have a toad, Trevor, that my Uncle Algie gave to me. I didn’t pick him out, either.”
Myrtle raised translucent eyebrows.
“People make fun of him a lot,” Neville added. “So I guess…well, sorry I laughed.”
She gave him an appraising look. “I suppose it’s alright,” she finally said. “Avery was kind of funny, now that I think about it. He used to eat pages out of my Herbology textbook because it had pictures of the plants he liked. Ceanothus thyrsiflorus was his favorite,” she recited with a dreamy smile.
“Zanzibar,” Neville said, almost without thinking.
Myrtle looked up. “What did you say?”
“Oh, that’s the scientific name for Zanzibar”I read it in a book about Mediterranean plants in my fourth year.”
Suddenly, Myrtle’s face lit up and she looked more excited than Neville had ever seen her. “You like plants too?” she said breathlessly. “Herbology was my best subject! I even visit Professor Sprout on my good days. Sometimes she has me go to the bottom of the lake for her to gather information about the sorts of things that grow down there. Of course, I can’t actually get the plants for her myself, but usually I can give her a general clue to where everything is, and sometimes the merpeople are nice enough to put stuff in bottles for me”They aren’t always nasty, you see.”
Astonished by the sight of Myrtle babbling as though bitten by the know-it-all bug, (much like a certain Gryffindor he knew), Neville felt his mouth fall open as he listened to Myrtle list off her favorite books about Herbology”most of which he had even read himself.
After that, the conversation went on from there, eventually deviating from testing each other on their knowledge of plants, and onto being awful at everything else.
“My worst subject was Charms,” Myrtle admitted as she glided ahead of him through a holly-bedecked archway.
“Mine’s Potions,” Neville replied a little moodily. He looked up as Myrtle gave a small “Ha!”
“What?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing. I was just wondering when we would find something we didn’t have in common.”
Neville laughed at that, and realized suddenly that Myrtle actually sounded like a normal human being. He found himself forgetting that Myrtle was a ghost at all, and soon found himself abandoning his walk towards Gryffindor Tower. Instead, he sat down on a cushioned bench near the East wing stairwell, just to prolong his conversation with her.
“Do you get made fun of a lot, Neville?” Myrtle asked when there had been a long silence. “I did. Actually, I still do”when anyone even bothers to come near my bathroom.”
Neville cleared his throat. “Yeah, I used to get picked on all the time. But it got better after I made some friends. It’s funny how people leave you alone when there’s someone to stand up for””
“Mistletoe,” Myrtle interrupted.
Thinking she was bored and had gone back to testing him on his Herbology expertise, Neville replied without hesitation. “Oh, there are a lot of different kinds, but I suppose the most common is the Phoradendron leucar””
“No, silly! Mistletoe…”
“I know, that’s what I’m saying! There are”” Suddenly it hit him and, dreading what he knew was coming, Neville chanced a glance above him. And there it hung”a great big branch of Phoradendron Leucarpum, looking innocent and picturesque in the moonlight.
Neville shut his eyes and waited for the kiss. He kept expecting to feel her warm breath on his skin, or a wisp of her glowing hair against his cheek, but nothing happened except for the appearance of a soft, blue light against his closed eyelids.
He didn’t even know it was over until Myrtle spoke and, suddenly, Neville realized that he must have missed the whole thing.
“Well?” Myrtle whispered.
Neville’s eyes snapped open and he found himself fighting a nervous laugh.
“Did you feel anything?” she asked with a slight quaver in her voice, a sound that Neville had never heard before.
He paused for a moment before answering, but the words seemed to come out of his mouth completely on their own. “Of course!” he said a little breathlessly. “Of course I did.”
There had been a hope in Myrtle’s voice that he didn’t dare crush, and there was even a part of Neville himself that wanted to believe he had felt something.
Myrtle, however, was not fooled.
She sat back on her hands and cast a crestfallen look at the floor. “Yeah, me neither,” she muttered gloomily. “Of course, I haven’t felt anything in ages, so I guess I should have known…”
Neville didn’t quite know what to do at this point. He wanted to comfort her somehow, but it was, after all, a very different thing consoling a person and consoling a ghost. It’s not like you could put your arm around them or tell them to at least be thankful they’re alive. It’s especially difficult when that ghost is a girl, and Neville had never been particularly articulate around girls.
“You want to know something else?” Myrtle asked quietly.
Neville pulled himself from his reverie to notice, with amazement, that Myrtle’s cheeks were blushing a faint silver.
“That would have been my first kiss,” she admitted softly, still looking at the floor.
There was an awkward silence after that, but finally, Neville worked up the courage to move his hand onto, (or rather into), Myrtle’s small transparent one, and this time he could feel a sort of cold tingling in his fingertips”a feeling that was not at all unpleasant.
Myrtle looked up and Neville smiled.
“Mine too,” he said.
And after a slight hesitation, Myrtle smiled back.
Finis
A/N: Once again I would like to applaud the efforts of my beta and even go as far as to say that SHE IS THE BEST IN THE WORLD. No question. Sorry if I offend, but it's the bitter truth.
Thank you so much for reading, and as this a rather odd pairing, if you are at all inclined, I would love to hear what you thought.