“Neville, hurry up, what are you doing?” called Gran up the stairs. “It’s gone ten o’clock already.” Neville came clumping down the stairs dragging his suitcase behind him and pulled it into the living room. “Heavens Neville, you’re only away for three days,” Gran said, looking at the bulging suitcase. “How much stuff have you got in there?”
“Just what I think I’ll need, Gran,” Neville replied. He’d always had a tendency to overpack when he went away anywhere. The two of them sat silently in armchairs; they were waiting for Arthur Weasley to arrive and pick up Neville for his trip to the Weasley family home. It was Saturday, and the Quidditch World Cup final was happening the next day. Gran had arranged with the Weasleys that Neville would stay with the Weasleys from Saturday through to Monday, returning home Monday evening.
After only a few minutes, Gran was already tapping her watch, and muttered, “He did say ten, didn’t he?” However just at that moment there was a flash of green flame from the large, old-fashioned fireplace, out of which stumbled a thin, balding, middle-aged man. He scrambled to his feet and brushed the soot off his green robes.
“Good morning, Mrs Longbottom,” he said brightly, offering his right hand. “Arthur Weasley.”
Gran took his hand. “A pleasure, Mr Weasley. We have met before, though I doubt you remember, you were very young at the time. I knew your father quite well from our days at the Ministry. How is he now?”
“Old and frail, but still full of life,” Mr Weasley replied with a smile. “Excuse me, I suggest you step back a bit.” He moved clear of the fireplace just in time as another gout of flame rose from the grate and disgorged a smaller figure onto the Longbottoms’ carpet. The figure, with a full head of red hair and a face covered in freckles, stood up and looked around.
“Hi Neville,” Ron said.
“He insisted on coming to see where you live,” explained Mr Weasley.
“Come on, show me around,” said Ron to Neville, dragging him out of the room. Neville noticed Ron seemed a lot taller than when he had last seen him; he must have had quite a growth spurt over the summer. Neville took him on a cursory tour of the farmhouse, an inquisitive Ron poking his head into every room. “I like it,” was his considered appraisal as they finished up in the wide back garden. “It’s a lot like our house, but a bit less cluttered. You’ll see. Especially as we’ve got everyone there at the moment. Harry arrived a few days ago, and Hermione’s coming this evening.”
“Ron, are you coming?” yelled Mr Weasley from inside the house. “Your mother will be wondering where we’ve got to.”
“Best go before Mum starts panicking,” said Ron. They returned to the front room, where Gran and Mr Weasley had been talking.
“You go first Ron,” Mr Weasley said, pointing to the small pot on the mantelpiece where Gran kept the Floo powder.
Ron took a pinch of the powder, crouched down into the fireplace and cried, “The Burrow!” dropping the powder. In a flash he was gone.
“You next, Neville,” indicated Mr Weasley.
Neville said goodbye to Gran, adding, “Don’t forget to feed Trevor while I’m gone,” before taking his Floo powder and his suitcase and stepping into the fireplace. Steeling himself, he yelled, “The Burrow!” and flung down the powder. Instantly he felt himself jerked forwards, propelled through the magical network. He had always hated the sensation, it made him nauseous, and he was glad when at last he collapsed onto a kitchen floor.
A short, dumpy kind-faced witch Neville recognised as Mrs Weasley helped him to his feet. “Welcome, Neville,” she said brightly. “Welcome to our humble home.” Neville looked about him. The kitchen was smaller than that in his own home, but had the same pleasant, rustic feel; in fact, even more so. It was bright and clean, but had a very much lived-in feeling. Neville didn’t know why, but somehow he instantly felt as home here as he did in Huddlesby.
While Mrs Weasley was distracted by Neville, Ron was a raiding a cupboard for a biscuit. Mr Weasley Flooed in behind Neville. “Mrs Longbottom sends her regards, Molly. Where is everyone?”
“Just a moment.” Mrs Weasley went to the door of the kitchen and yelled up the stairs, “Harry! Boys! Neville’s here!” At that moment there was a massive bang from above their heads. Neville went to dive under the table, but nobody else even flinched.
“What was that?” Neville exclaimed.
“Experiments,” Ron grinned. “The Marauders are branching out.”
“They’ve been at it all summer,” said Mr Weasley with a resigned tone. “Sometimes I wish I knew what they were doing up there, and other times I think it’s best not to know.” There was a pounding on the stairs and Harry, Fred and George entered the kitchen. Their faces and hands were covered in soot and they were grinning broadly.
“That wasn’t the best moment to disturb us, mother dear,” chided Fred. Mrs Weasley gave him one of her patented cold stares. Fred ignored her and turned to George. “Perhaps one less clockwise wand stir next time, eh Wormtail?”
“Exactly what I was thinking, Moony,” replied George. “And we’re going to need a couple of fresh cauldrons.”
“Well, they’ll have to be paid for out of your own pocket,” snapped Mrs Weasley. “We’re not made of money, you know.”
“What happened to the whole ‘secret society’ idea, then?” asked Neville.
“There was hardly much point keeping it secret any more,” Harry replied. “Besides, we’ve got Sirius’ blessing now. So we’ve gone into full-scale prank production, or at least we would be if we didn’t keep going through cauldrons. Fred and George have really got a flair for thinking up great ideas for joke magical items and tricks. We’re thinking of selling some of them at school once we’ve got the problems sorted out. Only trouble is, we can’t decide what to call ourselves. I like ‘Marauding Magic’, but they don’t.”
“I prefer ‘The Magnificent Marauders’ Merriments’” suggested George. That started off a succession of counter-suggestions and arguments between the four Marauders, and Neville left them to it. Mrs Weasley led him up the stairs to the second floor. Next to a room that appeared to have smoke leaking out of it was a door with the name ‘Percy’ proudly affixed to it.
“You’ll be staying here,” Mrs Weasley explained. “Percy doesn’t need it now, he’s starting his new job at the Ministry, and Harry’s bunking down with Ron upstairs. Make yourself at home.”
Percy’s bedroom was surprisingly stark and bare; either the ex-Head Boy had completely cleared out the room before he left or he had preferred a spartan look. Neville unpacked a few essentials from his bag. Footsteps on the stairs and then a series of bangs and fizzes from behind the wall of the room told Neville that the Marauders had returned to what must be Fred and George’s room, he assumed. Finishing unpacking, he left the room to explore the house.
Like his own home, Neville guessed the Burrow had once been a farmhouse, but it could certainly not now be mistaken for a Muggle abode. The house rose precariously into the sky in several storeys, defying conventional laws of architecture. Despite being larger than his house, which only had two floors and an attic, it felt more cramped and overrun. Of course, only Neville and Gran lived in their home since Granddad had died, and several rooms there were now unused.
Despite all this, the Burrow had a quality that Neville could only describe as ‘homeliness’. The house seemed as much a part of the Weasley family as any person in it, and there was an instant sense of being in a place of love. Neville envied Ron and wondered if he truly appreciated the home he had.
Back downstairs again he found Mr and Mrs Weasley busy tidying the house. To get out of their way he passed on through the kitchen to the back door, intending to have a look at the garden. But as he opened the door, he found himself face to face with Ginny Weasley, coming in the opposite direction.
Like Ron, she seemed a lot taller than Neville remembered, and a lot more grown up; prettier he supposed, though Neville was no judge of such things. She was out of breath, sweat glistened on her forehead and her long red hair was in a tangle. “Oh hello, Neville, I didn’t know you’d arrived yet,” she said, surprised. Neville let her past and she collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table and took a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair to try and smooth it out.
“Are you all right?” asked Neville politely.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she smiled. “Just been outside practising.”
“Practising?”
Ginny looked around to check if anyone else was listening. “Quidditch,” she explained. “I’ve been borrowing Fred’s broom and flying around above the field out back with an old Quaffle. They never let me play when they have a game,” she jabbed a finger at the ceiling, in the direction of the Marauders in Fred and George’s room, “so I have to learn by myself. They don’t know yet. One day I’ll show them.”
There was a crackle and a strange whining noise from above their heads. “Still at it, are they?” commented Ginny, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “All summer.” There was an exasperated tone in her voice.
“I guess it must be annoying,” Neville offered.
“That’s not the point. They lock themselves away in that room and don’t allow anyone else in. I hardly even see them, much less get involved. I hate being just the girl.”
Neville smiled, he was reminded of a time over a year before when Ginny had yelled similar sentiments into Harry’s face, at the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. “I suppose it’s hard being the younger sister. Not that I’d know.”
Ginny didn’t seem to hear him. “I mean, Harry’s been coming here since I was six, and not once have they paid me even the slightest bit of attention. It’s as if I don’t exist to them.”
Neville politely half-listened to Ginny continuing to complain, though he wasn’t really concentrating on what was being said. He got the feeling that actually there was something else going on, that there was more to Ginny’s frustration than what she was saying. But he had no idea what it could be. Girls’ minds were just as much a mystery to him as most things in the world. Still, it was good that Ginny appeared to feel comfortable talking to him now. There was a time back before the Chamber incident when she hardly seemed capable of stringing a sentence together in front of Neville, something Neville had put down to his undeserved fame and reputation as the Boy-Who-Lived. Now she had got to know Neville better, and they had faced danger together, that had faded away.
Eventually Mrs Weasley entered, continuing her cleaning of the house, and Ginny finished her rant. “Thanks, Neville. You’re a great listener,” she said, and headed upstairs to her room. Neville was surprised by the remark, given he had hardly paid much attention to Ginny. Maybe being a good listener was simply a matter of not saying anything, in which case Neville genuinely would be a natural.
Neville sat with the whole family around the kitchen table for lunch; he noticed that Ginny was glaring at Harry and Ron the whole time. In the afternoon, the Marauders temporarily abandoned their experimenting, and joined Neville out in the garden under the warm sunshine. Occasionally Neville would look up at the house and catch sight of Ginny watching them from an upstairs window, but she would disappear if she spotted Neville looking in her direction.
Neville asked Harry about Sirius, and Harry told him he was still busy looking for a new job, so wouldn’t be coming to the match. “Plus he’s got, er, his friend to look after,” said Harry, with a quick glance about him in the absurdly unlikely chance that someone was listening. They’d learned to be very careful when discussing Lupin between themselves, as he was still a wanted man.
“How is Moony?” Neville asked. They tended to use Lupin’s Marauder nickname for security, even if it did run the risk of confusing him with Fred.
“Well enough, or as well as can be expected,” Harry replied. “But it can’t be good for him cooped up in that miserable old house with only a demented house-elf for company. I wish he could stay with us, but Sirius says it isn’t safe and his old family home is the most secure place he knows.”
“How come you and Sirius don’t live in the house yourself?”
“Sirius hates even setting foot in the place. Too many bad memories. He loathed his family and the house just reminds him of that. I don’t think he’d been in there from when his parents died until this summer, and I’ve never been in. He wouldn’t even take on Kreacher, the house-elf, though he’s still technically his master. Kreacher just mopes about the old house apparently, and won’t listen to Moony.” The arrangement didn’t sound much like the freedom Neville had hoped for Lupin, but anything was better than Azkaban, he knew.
Late in the afternoon, Mrs Weasley cleared them from the garden so she could set up a table for dinner. There were too many people coming to fit in the kitchen, so they were moving outside. Fortunately Hermione arrived at that point and Neville took the opportunity to catch up with what she had been up to. He was surprised to find that she had arrived by Muggle means, taking a train to local Ottery St Catchpole station and then being picked up in a car by Mr Weasley. “Mr Weasley owns a Muggle car?” he asked, surprised.
“Yes, a little blue Ford Anglia. He’s really proud of it and kept asking me all sorts of complicated questions about how cars work, as if I’d know. I don’t think he understands not all Muggles and Muggle-borns are technological experts. Don’t tell him you do Muggle Studies or he’ll corner you too. Did you have a good summer?”
“Yes, thanks. A lot less dramatic than last summer.” Neville scratched the back of his head, then reached into his pocket and took out his Remembrall. The smoke inside was red.
“Forgotten something?” Hermione asked.
“Yes, I thought there was something I wanted to ask you. Trouble is, I haven’t got a clue what it was.” Neville absently scratched the scar on his forehead.
“Well, I’m sure if it was important you’ll remember eventually. Looking forward to the new term?”
“Yes, actually.” For the first time since he started at Hogwarts, Neville was truly enjoying the prospect of returning to his studies. The events of the end of the previous year had instilled in him a new-found confidence and he had promised himself he would put a more serious effort into his classes in his fourth year. Well, maybe not in Potions, but otherwise yes.
There were eleven people around the dinner table in the garden of the Burrow that evening: Neville, Hermione and Harry, Mr and Mrs Weasley, and six of their seven children. In addition to Ron, Ginny, Fred and George, the two eldest of the Weasley children had come home for the family gathering and the match the next day. Bill, the older, who worked for Gringotts, was an affable and easy-going wizard, effortless stylish in the sort of way that would normally make Neville incredibly jealous. But it was impossible to think badly of Bill.
Charlie, the second of the Weasley brothers, seemed a maverick, jokey sort who delighted in teasing his mother, telling only half-believable stories of his wild encounters with dragons where he worked in Romania. Mrs Weasley remained tight-lipped and how she really felt about Charlie’s stories was unclear, but they terrified Neville. He was grateful that he would never have to go anywhere near a dragon.
All in all, it was a very enjoyable evening, with everyone laughing and joking and comfortable in each other’s company. It felt to Neville more like the Gryffindor common room than the sort of home life he was used to. He realised he had never really known what it was like to have a real family. Sometimes it seemed that as he got older all he learned was how much he had missed out on in life.
Be grateful for what you have, that was always one of his Gran’s mottoes. But as he fell asleep that night, he wondered: was it enough? Was there more out there that he could have had, and more that he yet could have?
Neville Longbottom and the Goblet of Fire by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which Neville visits at the Weasley family home for the first time.
Chapter Endnotes: Suggestions for the alternate universe name of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes welcome! I don't think I'll be going with either of the ones the new Marauders came up with in this chapter in the end.