The Gift, Part 1 (Neville, G)
Title: The Gift, Part 1
Author: andy_star
CPE: Neville
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 100.1
Prompt: #13 Talent
Word Count: 1223
Summary: Eleven year old Neville discovers he has a special gift.
Notes: The first of a mini-series I'm planning. Warning: Awful, corny Latin. Suggestions appreciated.
Professor Sprout sighed happily. Eleven-year-old Neville Longbottom looked up at her. He really liked Professor Sprout. She knew everything - everything - about plants, and she was really clever. Best of all - she liked Neville. She let him help her in the greenhouses and the grounds outside of school time.
They were in the vegetable patch behind the greenhouses. It was a much neater and gentler patch than the pumpkin one kept by Hagrid the Gamekeeper - who, Neville had to admit he was rather frightened of. Neville was helping to harvest radishes. There were a lot more of them than there appeared at first glance.
“I do love this,” Professor Sprout said, smiling broadly. Neville thought it was an especially nice smile. She never did it in class. “I feel so… in tune.”
“Yes,” Neville agreed, carefully tugging out another radish.
The Professor looked at him a little guiltily. “Oh dear, I’m at it again, aren’t I. Don’t listen to me when I get like this, Neville. I go all gushy.”
“I don’t mind,” he said.
“Well,” Sprout said. “Perhaps we’d better call it a day in a bit. Are you tired?”
“No,” he said. “But we’ll have to stop soon, anyway, before it rains.”
Professor Sprout gave him an odd look, then tipped up the brim of her hat to look at the sky. “There’s not a cloud to be seen, Neville,” she said. “Why do you think it’s going to rain?”
Neville’s cheeks reddened. “Er… I don’t know. You’re probably right.”
Sprout gave him a puzzled look, but went back to her work. Five minutes later she felt the first cool drop hit her hand. She stared at it for a while before looking back up at the sky. A dark grey cloud was suddenly hovering overhead. “Where did that come from?” she wondered out loud. The rain began coming down in earnest, and she packed away all her tools and the radishes with expert precision.
“Come on!” she called to Neville, who was trying to make the hood of his robe stay up without much success. They half-walked, half-ran into the greenhouses, loading all the radishes onto a workbench.
“How did you know it was going to rain, Neville?” Professor Sprout asked him again.
He took a radish out of the sack and put it in the waiting wooden crate. “Dunno.”
She sat on a stool opposite him. “I think you do. You can tell me.”
“I really don’t know, Professor.” It wasn’t Neville’s fault that his nose went bright red when he lied.
“I don’t mind if it sounds silly,” she said. “I’d really like to know.”
He paused in his work. He turned to look at her. “You won’t laugh?”
“No, of course not.”
Neville plucked another radish from the sack and tossed it absent-mindedly. “The plants could tell,” he said, very quietly.
She nodded. “Go on.”
He stared at her. “That’s it?”
She smiled. “Not in the least. You were saying, the plants could tell it was going to rain?”
He nodded. “They know stuff like that. Weather stuff. They spread out their roots specially to suck up all the rain.”
She smiled. “Interestingly put. I’d advise against putting it in an essay.”
He swallowed. “You think I’m crazy.”
She stood up and put a plump hand on his shoulder. “Of course I don’t. Why do you say that?”
“My Gran thinks I’m crazy,” he said miserably. “I’m not supposed to talk about what plants say.”
“Neville,” she said, crouching to be level with him. “You are not crazy. You have a very special gift, that’s all.”
He stared at her. “I do?”
She smiled. “Yes. Have you ever heard of floridici?”
He shook his head in wonderment. “No, Professor.”
“Well, perhaps you wouldn’t have. They are extremely rare, as rare as Metamorphmagi and the animal speakers, the beludici.”
“I’ve heard of those,” he admitted. “My great-auntie Enid reckons she’s one, but I think she’s just had her horrid cats around for too long.”
She chuckled. “Floridici are people who… well, the translation is flower-speakers, but it’s not really like that, is it?”
He shook his head again.
“Exactly. They rather… feel out the needs of the plants, its wants, where it is in its life. And in return, the floridici share their feelings with the plants.”
Neville nodded slowly. He did feel better when he was around the plants. They always seemed so sympathetic. A thought occurred to him. “You know an awful lot about them,” he said suspiciously. “Are you a flora... flori…”
“Floridi? No. I wish I was. I’ve done plenty of research, though, and you seem to be quite the ideal study candidate.”
He wrinkled up his nose. “Are you gonna put me in a glass box?”
She looked shocked. “What on earth do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Some kids from year six took me to a Muggle movie once. It was all about this little girl from outer space, and they wanted to study her so they put her in a bed in a glass box.”
“Oh,” she said, rather taken aback.
“It was okay though,” he said. “She broke the glass and ran away. But then she ate people. That part was scary. I had to cover my eyes.”
“Ate people?” she muttered. “You don’t say.”
“Yes,” he said. There was silence for a moment
“Listen,” Professor Sprout said eventually. “I’m certainly not going to put you in a glass box. Perhaps, though, if you could tell me occasionally what it is you feel - what they feel?” She blushed suddenly. “Oh Neville, I’m sorry. I’m just so excited.”
“Sure,” he said. “I don’t mind. Do I still get to help you out in the garden?”
“Of course you can,” she said. “And more, if your schedule will allow it!”
He grinned. “I’m in!”
She grinned back. “Oh, wonderful! Oh dear me, I have a lot of reading to do before tomorrow! I may even pop into the library after it stops raining. Oh - I don’t suppose you know - ”
“About an hour,” he anticipated. “It’s only a very small cloud, really.”
“Oh, you gem,” she said. “And I’ll be giving you books to look at as well, don’t you worry. The sooner you understand more about your gift, the better you’ll be able to use it.”
“More homework?” he complained in a tone he wouldn’t have dared use with any Professor before now.
“You’ll thank me later,” she promised him. “Run along now. Dinner’s in five minutes.”
“Okay,” he said. He was halfway towards the door when he realised what was bothering him. “Professor Sprout?”
“Yes dear?”
“Do you suppose… I mean, is it okay if maybe we don’t tell anyone else about this floro thing?”
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Well, I suppose so, Neville, but why don’t you want to tell anyone?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged. “I guess I don’t want people thinking I’m different.”
“Ah,” she said. “Are you sure? People with your talents are often prized in the wizarding community…”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’d rather not be prized. I just want to be… well, me.”
She smiled. “Very well, Neville. It shall be our secret.”
When he had left, she picked up the radish he’d been holding. If she turned it slightly to the light, she could see where his hand had been. It left a shiny, healthy looking red sheen in the shape of five small fingers.
“Well,” she said to herself and the plants. “Won’t this be interesting.”
Author: andy_star
CPE: Neville
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 100.1
Prompt: #13 Talent
Word Count: 1223
Summary: Eleven year old Neville discovers he has a special gift.
Notes: The first of a mini-series I'm planning. Warning: Awful, corny Latin. Suggestions appreciated.
Professor Sprout sighed happily. Eleven-year-old Neville Longbottom looked up at her. He really liked Professor Sprout. She knew everything - everything - about plants, and she was really clever. Best of all - she liked Neville. She let him help her in the greenhouses and the grounds outside of school time.
They were in the vegetable patch behind the greenhouses. It was a much neater and gentler patch than the pumpkin one kept by Hagrid the Gamekeeper - who, Neville had to admit he was rather frightened of. Neville was helping to harvest radishes. There were a lot more of them than there appeared at first glance.
“I do love this,” Professor Sprout said, smiling broadly. Neville thought it was an especially nice smile. She never did it in class. “I feel so… in tune.”
“Yes,” Neville agreed, carefully tugging out another radish.
The Professor looked at him a little guiltily. “Oh dear, I’m at it again, aren’t I. Don’t listen to me when I get like this, Neville. I go all gushy.”
“I don’t mind,” he said.
“Well,” Sprout said. “Perhaps we’d better call it a day in a bit. Are you tired?”
“No,” he said. “But we’ll have to stop soon, anyway, before it rains.”
Professor Sprout gave him an odd look, then tipped up the brim of her hat to look at the sky. “There’s not a cloud to be seen, Neville,” she said. “Why do you think it’s going to rain?”
Neville’s cheeks reddened. “Er… I don’t know. You’re probably right.”
Sprout gave him a puzzled look, but went back to her work. Five minutes later she felt the first cool drop hit her hand. She stared at it for a while before looking back up at the sky. A dark grey cloud was suddenly hovering overhead. “Where did that come from?” she wondered out loud. The rain began coming down in earnest, and she packed away all her tools and the radishes with expert precision.
“Come on!” she called to Neville, who was trying to make the hood of his robe stay up without much success. They half-walked, half-ran into the greenhouses, loading all the radishes onto a workbench.
“How did you know it was going to rain, Neville?” Professor Sprout asked him again.
He took a radish out of the sack and put it in the waiting wooden crate. “Dunno.”
She sat on a stool opposite him. “I think you do. You can tell me.”
“I really don’t know, Professor.” It wasn’t Neville’s fault that his nose went bright red when he lied.
“I don’t mind if it sounds silly,” she said. “I’d really like to know.”
He paused in his work. He turned to look at her. “You won’t laugh?”
“No, of course not.”
Neville plucked another radish from the sack and tossed it absent-mindedly. “The plants could tell,” he said, very quietly.
She nodded. “Go on.”
He stared at her. “That’s it?”
She smiled. “Not in the least. You were saying, the plants could tell it was going to rain?”
He nodded. “They know stuff like that. Weather stuff. They spread out their roots specially to suck up all the rain.”
She smiled. “Interestingly put. I’d advise against putting it in an essay.”
He swallowed. “You think I’m crazy.”
She stood up and put a plump hand on his shoulder. “Of course I don’t. Why do you say that?”
“My Gran thinks I’m crazy,” he said miserably. “I’m not supposed to talk about what plants say.”
“Neville,” she said, crouching to be level with him. “You are not crazy. You have a very special gift, that’s all.”
He stared at her. “I do?”
She smiled. “Yes. Have you ever heard of floridici?”
He shook his head in wonderment. “No, Professor.”
“Well, perhaps you wouldn’t have. They are extremely rare, as rare as Metamorphmagi and the animal speakers, the beludici.”
“I’ve heard of those,” he admitted. “My great-auntie Enid reckons she’s one, but I think she’s just had her horrid cats around for too long.”
She chuckled. “Floridici are people who… well, the translation is flower-speakers, but it’s not really like that, is it?”
He shook his head again.
“Exactly. They rather… feel out the needs of the plants, its wants, where it is in its life. And in return, the floridici share their feelings with the plants.”
Neville nodded slowly. He did feel better when he was around the plants. They always seemed so sympathetic. A thought occurred to him. “You know an awful lot about them,” he said suspiciously. “Are you a flora... flori…”
“Floridi? No. I wish I was. I’ve done plenty of research, though, and you seem to be quite the ideal study candidate.”
He wrinkled up his nose. “Are you gonna put me in a glass box?”
She looked shocked. “What on earth do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Some kids from year six took me to a Muggle movie once. It was all about this little girl from outer space, and they wanted to study her so they put her in a bed in a glass box.”
“Oh,” she said, rather taken aback.
“It was okay though,” he said. “She broke the glass and ran away. But then she ate people. That part was scary. I had to cover my eyes.”
“Ate people?” she muttered. “You don’t say.”
“Yes,” he said. There was silence for a moment
“Listen,” Professor Sprout said eventually. “I’m certainly not going to put you in a glass box. Perhaps, though, if you could tell me occasionally what it is you feel - what they feel?” She blushed suddenly. “Oh Neville, I’m sorry. I’m just so excited.”
“Sure,” he said. “I don’t mind. Do I still get to help you out in the garden?”
“Of course you can,” she said. “And more, if your schedule will allow it!”
He grinned. “I’m in!”
She grinned back. “Oh, wonderful! Oh dear me, I have a lot of reading to do before tomorrow! I may even pop into the library after it stops raining. Oh - I don’t suppose you know - ”
“About an hour,” he anticipated. “It’s only a very small cloud, really.”
“Oh, you gem,” she said. “And I’ll be giving you books to look at as well, don’t you worry. The sooner you understand more about your gift, the better you’ll be able to use it.”
“More homework?” he complained in a tone he wouldn’t have dared use with any Professor before now.
“You’ll thank me later,” she promised him. “Run along now. Dinner’s in five minutes.”
“Okay,” he said. He was halfway towards the door when he realised what was bothering him. “Professor Sprout?”
“Yes dear?”
“Do you suppose… I mean, is it okay if maybe we don’t tell anyone else about this floro thing?”
“Oh,” she said, surprised. “Well, I suppose so, Neville, but why don’t you want to tell anyone?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged. “I guess I don’t want people thinking I’m different.”
“Ah,” she said. “Are you sure? People with your talents are often prized in the wizarding community…”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’d rather not be prized. I just want to be… well, me.”
She smiled. “Very well, Neville. It shall be our secret.”
When he had left, she picked up the radish he’d been holding. If she turned it slightly to the light, she could see where his hand had been. It left a shiny, healthy looking red sheen in the shape of five small fingers.
“Well,” she said to herself and the plants. “Won’t this be interesting.”