Winter at Hogwarts arrived sharp, hard and thoroughly unpleasant and by early December the castle and grounds were covered in heavy snow. Now, as they approached the Christmas break, Neville had taken to long periods of staring out of his window in his room at the world below. Unlike most of his schoolmates, Neville hated snow. It was cold and wet, it got into your shoes and soaked your socks, leaving you with freezing toes. He much preferred the warmth and comfort indoors.
Absently, he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his Remembrall. He tended to keep it in his pocket all the time now, because he was sure, ironically, that he’d forget where it was if he left it anywhere. Holding it up, he was crestfallen to see the smoke inside turn red. What had he forgotten this time? He was sure he hadn’t any schoolwork left to do, he’d been going over it with Hermione yesterday evening. Then he realised and looked down at his watch. Half past three. He was supposed to have met Hermione in the library at two. They were searching for information on Nicolas Flamel. Well, Hermione was searching. The library was literally a collection of closed books to Neville and he had in general been more a hindrance than a help.
Hermione on the other hand, was in her element. She’d spent nearly all her free time (which for Hermione and the amount of schoolwork she did wasn’t a lot) scouring old, dusty impenetrable tomes for clues. She loved a challenge and a mystery and though Neville was all for heeding Hagrid’s words and forgetting about it, Hermione wouldn’t let it go.
Neville left Gryffindor tower and made his way down to the library to apologise to her for not showing up. Entering the library, he found Hermione sitting at a table poring over a pile of books. “Hi Hermione,” he said. “Look er…”
“Oh, hi Neville,” said Hermione absently. “Did you want to see me for something?”
Neville picked up a book from the top of her pile and read the title: Counter-curses for the Perennially Harassed. “I thought we were trying to find out about Nicolas Flamel?” he asked.
“Well, I got bit distracted. For instance, did you know that…?”
“Probably not,” said Neville quickly. Hermione’s long discursions usually quickly lost him. “Look anyway, I’m sorry I’m late.”
“Oh, are you late?” Hermione looked up at the library’s clock. “Is that the time? Just flies by, doesn’t it?”
Neville smiled. “I don’t suppose you’ve found anything, have you?” he asked.
“No. Honestly I don’t know where to look next. I’ve checked all the biographies and reference volumes I can think of. Other than trying to get into the Restricted Section, I…” But at that moment Madam Pince came round the corner and told them to be quiet, so after tidying away Hermione’s books they left. Hermione took one out to read in her own time and after they’d chatted for a while outside the library and talked about their plans for the Christmas holidays, she left Neville to return the Gryffindor common room.
Neville, who was feeling a bit tired after a long week, and had endured another miserable Potions lesson with Snape that morning, decided to rest for a while outside the library. Since the Quidditch match Snape had definitely been acting oddly, or at least stranger than usual. He certainly seemed to be keeping a closer eye on Neville, and seemed to be following him about at times. At least that’s what Neville thought, though Hermione assured him he was just being paranoid.
This meant of course that his persecution in Potions had not let up, indeed it seemed to have intensified. Neville was close to being put into a state of complete terror that Snape would poison him at the first opportunity. But why? What was so important under that trapdoor that Snape would risk his life and curse Neville for it? And what was a teacher like Snape doing at Hogwarts anyway?
Pondering these questions as he sat leaning against an old statue, Neville suddenly heard footsteps coming down the corridor just off in front of him. Peering round the corner, he was afraid it would be Snape. It turned out to be the next worse thing. It was Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies Crabbe and Goyle. What are they doing here, thought Neville. The Slytherin common room was down in the basement (right place for it in Neville’s opinion) and he couldn’t see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle wanting to use the library. They were definitely up to no good.
At once he felt they’d spotted him. He scrambled to his feet as quick as he could and hared off down the corridor. Unfortunately that only seemed to genuinely alert the three of them to his presence, and they set off in pursuit. As he ran, behind him Neville heard Malfoy shout “Coward, Longbottom! Those fat legs of yours can’t run forever!” Neville dodged down another passageway as Malfoy aimed a curse at his back that missed.
Panting heavily, Neville was now horribly lost, but he dived into the nearest room and hid behind the door, listening to see if the three Slytherins would pass. He heard Malfoy yell “Hiding now, are you? So this is Gryffindor bravery. Skulking in corners and fleeing from trouble. No wonder you’re the Boy-Who-Lived. You ran away!” For a moment Neville almost leapt out and confronted Malfoy at that, but his fear kept him rooted to the spot. Eventually the Slytherins gave up and he heard their footsteps die away.
Neville slumped to the ground, dejected. He was pathetic. He hadn’t fought, he hadn’t stood up to Malfoy, he’d just run away, like he always did. Malfoy was right. He didn’t belong in Gryffindor. All that stuff the Sorting Hat had said was just rubbish. He put his head in his hands and started to sob. That just made him feel even more of a pathetic cry-baby, but he carried on for some time.
Eventually he rubbed his eyes, got up and looked around him. He was in an empty, dusty room, which seemed as if no one had been in there for years. A few benches and chairs suggested this had once been a classroom, though long since abandoned. Except for one curious and out of place object. Propped up against a wall, and not as dust-covered as the rest of the room, was a large full-length mirror with a beautiful intricate golden frame. The gold still shone and sparkled brightly.
Curious, Neville wandered over to investigate. Written about the top of the mirror in carved letters was the strange inscription Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Neville had no idea what it meant. The glass of the mirror was perfectly clear and smooth but its reflection of the room seemed darker than Neville thought it should be. Cautiously Neville put out his hand around the edge of the mirror. A ghostly, half-translucent image of his hand waved back at him from out of the mirror, but otherwise nothing seemed strange.
Neville put down his hand and stepped in front of the mirror. At first, everything appeared normal. Neville regarded his podgy form and tear-streaked face miserably. He’d never liked his appearance and it was looking no better at this point in time. He made to turn away. But as he did so, he saw something change in the mirror. The tears disappeared from his face and he seemed to grow older and stronger-looking. A smile stretched across his face which Neville had never smiled.
Suddenly other figures faded into view around him in the mirror. There was Hermione, and Harry and Ron and Seamus and other Gryffindors. They were standing around him, chatting to him and patting him on the back as if congratulating him. Behind them, more people appeared. There was Gran, looking adorably on her grandchild, and Dumbledore, who shook his hand. And finally two more emerged from behind the others. Though he didn’t recognise them, Neville knew who they were immediately. They were his parents. He recognised much of himself in the image of his mother, except he had his father’s hair and smile. They gazed proudly on their son and knelt to share in the conversation.
No sound emerged from the mirror, however, and the room remained utterly quiet. Neville looked around and behind him but he was alone. Nothing in the room had changed. Yet in the mirror he had been lifted on Harry and Ron’s shoulders and was hugging his parents. Neville noticed one other strange thing in the reflection. His scar was gone. His hand instinctively rose to his forehead, but in reality it was still there.
What did all this mean?
* * *
Neville raced back into Gryffindor Tower into the common room. He saw a blond-haired girl with a cheesy grin on her face, talking to an Asian girl in the corner. Nervously he went over to her. She looked up and asked “Yes, Neville?” rather bluntly.
“Oh, er, hi Lavender,” said Neville breathlessly. “Could you see if Hermione is in your room? I need to talk to her.”
Lavender Brown looked across at Parvati Patil and both giggled briefly, but she went off to her room. Boys couldn’t go up the girl’s staircase, Neville had found that out painfully a few weeks ago. Soon Lavender came back down, and behind her Hermione, book in hand. “What is it?” she asked.
“Come on, come with me,” said Neville. “There’s something you have to see.” Reluctantly Hermione left her book behind and followed Neville back down to the fourth floor. It took a few minutes for Neville to remember which way to go but eventually he found his way back to the abandoned classroom. “Come here,” he said. “It’s a magic mirror. Look in it. Go on.”
Giving a curious sideways glance to Neville, Hermione stepped up and looked into the mirror. “What are you talking about, Neville?” she said. “It’s just me.” Then she gave a slight gasp. “That’s Professor Dumbledore!” she said, pointing. “And McGonagall’s there too! Hang on, I’m in the Great Hall. They’re presenting me with certificates and awards. Wow, I’m Head Girl! Everybody’s clapping! Even Snape there looks happy. Is this what you saw, Neville?”
“Not exactly,” said Neville, confused. He looked into the mirror himself again, but saw the same as he did before. He described it to Hermione. “You know everything,” he said. “Do you know what this mirror is? What does it do?”
“I don’t know,” said Hermione. “I’ve never heard of anything like this before.” Neville’s face fell, but Hermione continued “Maybe we can work it out though.” She sat down and Neville saw her common “thinking expression” appear on her face. “It can’t show the future,” she said, “because you said you saw your parents, and they’re, well…” She paused uncomfortably. “It can’t exactly show something real either, because Snape would never look that happy at anything.” Neville smiled at that. “Maybe it shows what we want it to show.” She stood up again and looked in the mirror, but shook her head. “No, it just shows the same thing. I can’t change it.”
Hermione examined the mirror more closely and stared for a while at the inscription written over the top. Then all of a sudden she clapped her hands and gave out a “Yes!” She pointed to the inscription. “It’s backwards, look. Like in a mirror.” Neville looked confused at it for a while, and then he saw what Hermione meant. Backwards he read I show not your face but your heart’s desire.
“So it shows us our heart’s desire, then?” he said. “The thing we really, really want?”
“Yes, deep down,” said Hermione. “Obviously I want to be successful, and have all the teachers be proud of me.”
“I could have told you that without a mirror,” said Neville with a smile. “But what does it mean I want? Just to be happy?”
“There are worse things to want,” observed Hermione, but Neville looked puzzled. “It’s nearly supper time,” Hermione said. “Come on, we should go. We shouldn’t really be here anyway.”
“You go ahead. I’ll catch you up,” said Neville. As Hermione left, with furrowed brow he looked into the mirror again.
* * *
Neville never did go down to supper that evening, and Hermione didn’t see him all Saturday either, except at meals, where he was quiet and rushed away early. The next day was the last before the Hogwarts Express left for the Christmas holiday on Monday and Hermione spent it mainly packing and making sure she had everything she needed to work on while at home.
But Neville, as he had for most of the day before, was to be found in the abandoned classroom, staring into the mirror, trying to understand what it was telling him. Was he so pathetic that all he wanted was people fussing around him? He didn’t even like Ron and Harry, he knew nothing about his parents, and he was more scared of Gran than anything. Maybe there was something else going on that he couldn’t see. He strained to look at the background to see where the figures were, but he couldn’t see anything. Yet he kept looking. Perhaps eventually his brain would kick in and he could work out what it meant.
He was so engrossed that he never heard the gentle footsteps walking into the room, nor the quiet rustle of robes. He only reacted when a wrinkled hand was laid softly on his shoulder. Turning in alarm, he discovered it was none other than Professor Dumbledore, with a kind smile. “Don’t worry Neville,” he said. “I thought I might find you here. I see you have been pondering the Mirror of Erised, like so many before you. Something concerns you, I can tell. Would it help to tell me what you see?”
Carefully, Neville described his vision in the mirror. “I don’t understand it, Professor. It seems just so simple, so normal. Shouldn’t my desire be something bigger? Or is there something I’m missing?”
“Perhaps, Neville, perhaps. No, I do not think your desire is small. Indeed I think it is the biggest thing anyone can desire.”
“What is it?”
“Love, Neville. Just love. The love of friends, or of a close family, or the appreciation of your peers. You see Neville, I think you have always looked down on yourself, felt yourself weak or unworthy, and indeed unloved. And I suspect there may be one thing more. Tell me, can you see your scar in the mirror?”
“No, how did you know?”
“Because, although you try to hide away from others, you are well aware that people notice you, that they know who you are, that they even look up to you or appear as if they like you on account of your history. I think it is an admirable thing that you want others to appreciate you for yourself and not that scar. It greatly reassures me. You have nothing to worry about, Neville.”
Neville nodded silently, but his face was still glum. “Cheer up, Neville,” said Dumbledore kindly. “I will say only this. You are far more loved than you think you are. In fact, perhaps more than you can imagine.” Neville looked up into the headmaster’s face and there was a twinkle in the eyes he hadn’t seen before. “Now run along, it’s late and you need to get ready for returning home tomorrow.”
Neville nodded and made to go. But as he got to the door, Dumbledore called out to him “Neville, just to warn you, the mirror will not be here when you return in January. It is a dangerous object for those who seek too keenly to look inside themselves. It will be moved to… a safer place. Merry Christmas, Neville.”
“Merry Christmas, Professor,” said Neville, and left.
Neville Longbottom and the Philosopher's Stone by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which Neville encounters the Mirror of Erised and talks with Dumbledore.