Fic: Patronus
Title: Patronus
Author: vegablack62
Characters and pairings: Neville, Luna
Rating and warnings, if any: G
Prompt, if any: Written for lyras, who asked what Neville was doing while Harry was learning about Horcruxes.
Summary: Neville tries to cast a Patronus
Author's Note: Written after the deadline, but I wanted to contribute anyway.
Neville sat on the ground behind the Whomping Willow. He had been trying to cast a Patronus for an hour; no the truth was he’d been trying to do it since school started; no, the real truth was he’d been trying since Harry had taught the class last year in Dumbledore’s Army. A year - he’d been trying for a year and he still hadn’t learned it. The thought was discouraging and didn’t lead him to think that he would. He found himself thinking about all the times he had finished up behind everyone else. It was so hard to figure out why, other than the obvious - he was stupid. He whispered that information to the Willow and what was its response? Rage and thrash and toss bits of itself around. Not the way to behave if you wanted to call up a purely happy memory.
His gran had told him that he had no excuses; if he couldn’t do as well as others then he just had to try harder than they did. That was easier to say than to do. It didn’t always work either, sometimes the more he worked the bigger the mess he made for himself until he thought he would have been better off dashing off the first thing that came to his head and walking away. He felt like that now. He certainly was in no fit mood to call up a purely happy thought or even a mildly contented one, but really that wasn’t an excuse either. If he couldn’t cast a Patronus when he was merely frustrated with himself, how could he do it when surrounded by Dementors?
He stood up and tried again, concentrating on a time when he was happy, when he had accomplished something, a moment without a hint of doubt or sadness. He closed his eyes and thought about getting his own wand, the one that had chosen him, the one in his hand. He thought of Gran looking serious, telling him that he had earned it, that he had broken his father’s wand on a laudable mission, one worthy of his father. He knew that she, who never gave a compliment unless it was real, truly believed what she said. He concentrated on the memory; what it felt like and without faltering or misgivings, he yelled EXPECTO PATRONUM. This time a bright dazzling silver bird burst from his wand and made a rocking, tottering, awkward, yet strangely exhilarating flight higher and higher and then swept to the ground below.
Shockingly his Patronus appeared to be a bird. He would never have expected a bird, which just seemed wrong for him, but still he saw what he saw. He stood dazed, shocked, staring at his wand and his own hand disbelieving that the Patronus had come from him. After all this time he’d done it now. How was that possible? He half thought he’d imagined the whole thing and so he repeated it. Again more clearly than before a silver bird flew out to soar in the sky and then land on the ground and limp along like a broken and injured creature. This was startling. How could a Patronus be injured? Suddenly Neville realized what it was he saw. He recognized that bird. He hadn’t spent time hunting plants in the Dales for nothing. He knew a lapwing when he saw one. Strange little birds that seemed as much at home digging and poking around in the dirt as they did flying in the sky, they were famous for feigning injury - a broken wing, an injured leg - to lure predators away from their young. He laughed sheepishly, his great-uncle Algie called them peewits. Well, so what that Patronus was his. He laughed again heartily, giddy with relief and happiness.
“A lapwing,” Luna called from behind him.
He had been so intent on his Patronus that he hadn’t noticed her walking up. He never heard her talk about a real animal before, only mad ones. He thought her world was made up entirely of Heliopaths and Wrackspurts, but now in front of him, she properly identified a wild bird. He was impressed.
He cast the Patronus again, enjoying himself, relishing the ability, showing off to Luna. The silver bird shot from his wand only this time it alighted immediately on to the ground and limped along with its fake broken wing and injured leg.
Luna laughed. “They are such fierce creatures, but you wouldn’t know it because they are liars. They hide their strength.” She waited a minute as if thinking and added. “They’re clumsy too.” She looked Neville up and down. “It’s perfect for you.”
Neville smiled. He liked his Patronus; there was something to admire in that awkward, clumsy, protective little bird.
On his next visit to his parents, Neville proudly cast his Patronus for them. He laughed happily as his parents stared at the bird with delighted wonder, watching its tottering flight to the ceiling and then smiling at its dance of feigned injury. The medi-witches were very angry with him, because only Healers were allowed to use wands in the ward. He had broken rules that he knew well, but Neville had no regrets. He wanted to show his parents what he could do and he knew that he had made them happy.
Neville didn’t find out that he and his mother shared a Patronus till much later, when Kingsley told him after the war. The news surprised Neville because he couldn’t see the connection; he hadn’t thought about his mother at all when he cast the spell and part of him would have rather have shared one with his dad. It would have seemed more manly. But he was pleased, and after when he visited his mother he felt closer to her than he ever had before, bound by this mysterious link.`
Author: vegablack62
Characters and pairings: Neville, Luna
Rating and warnings, if any: G
Prompt, if any: Written for lyras, who asked what Neville was doing while Harry was learning about Horcruxes.
Summary: Neville tries to cast a Patronus
Author's Note: Written after the deadline, but I wanted to contribute anyway.
Neville sat on the ground behind the Whomping Willow. He had been trying to cast a Patronus for an hour; no the truth was he’d been trying to do it since school started; no, the real truth was he’d been trying since Harry had taught the class last year in Dumbledore’s Army. A year - he’d been trying for a year and he still hadn’t learned it. The thought was discouraging and didn’t lead him to think that he would. He found himself thinking about all the times he had finished up behind everyone else. It was so hard to figure out why, other than the obvious - he was stupid. He whispered that information to the Willow and what was its response? Rage and thrash and toss bits of itself around. Not the way to behave if you wanted to call up a purely happy memory.
His gran had told him that he had no excuses; if he couldn’t do as well as others then he just had to try harder than they did. That was easier to say than to do. It didn’t always work either, sometimes the more he worked the bigger the mess he made for himself until he thought he would have been better off dashing off the first thing that came to his head and walking away. He felt like that now. He certainly was in no fit mood to call up a purely happy thought or even a mildly contented one, but really that wasn’t an excuse either. If he couldn’t cast a Patronus when he was merely frustrated with himself, how could he do it when surrounded by Dementors?
He stood up and tried again, concentrating on a time when he was happy, when he had accomplished something, a moment without a hint of doubt or sadness. He closed his eyes and thought about getting his own wand, the one that had chosen him, the one in his hand. He thought of Gran looking serious, telling him that he had earned it, that he had broken his father’s wand on a laudable mission, one worthy of his father. He knew that she, who never gave a compliment unless it was real, truly believed what she said. He concentrated on the memory; what it felt like and without faltering or misgivings, he yelled EXPECTO PATRONUM. This time a bright dazzling silver bird burst from his wand and made a rocking, tottering, awkward, yet strangely exhilarating flight higher and higher and then swept to the ground below.
Shockingly his Patronus appeared to be a bird. He would never have expected a bird, which just seemed wrong for him, but still he saw what he saw. He stood dazed, shocked, staring at his wand and his own hand disbelieving that the Patronus had come from him. After all this time he’d done it now. How was that possible? He half thought he’d imagined the whole thing and so he repeated it. Again more clearly than before a silver bird flew out to soar in the sky and then land on the ground and limp along like a broken and injured creature. This was startling. How could a Patronus be injured? Suddenly Neville realized what it was he saw. He recognized that bird. He hadn’t spent time hunting plants in the Dales for nothing. He knew a lapwing when he saw one. Strange little birds that seemed as much at home digging and poking around in the dirt as they did flying in the sky, they were famous for feigning injury - a broken wing, an injured leg - to lure predators away from their young. He laughed sheepishly, his great-uncle Algie called them peewits. Well, so what that Patronus was his. He laughed again heartily, giddy with relief and happiness.
“A lapwing,” Luna called from behind him.
He had been so intent on his Patronus that he hadn’t noticed her walking up. He never heard her talk about a real animal before, only mad ones. He thought her world was made up entirely of Heliopaths and Wrackspurts, but now in front of him, she properly identified a wild bird. He was impressed.
He cast the Patronus again, enjoying himself, relishing the ability, showing off to Luna. The silver bird shot from his wand only this time it alighted immediately on to the ground and limped along with its fake broken wing and injured leg.
Luna laughed. “They are such fierce creatures, but you wouldn’t know it because they are liars. They hide their strength.” She waited a minute as if thinking and added. “They’re clumsy too.” She looked Neville up and down. “It’s perfect for you.”
Neville smiled. He liked his Patronus; there was something to admire in that awkward, clumsy, protective little bird.
On his next visit to his parents, Neville proudly cast his Patronus for them. He laughed happily as his parents stared at the bird with delighted wonder, watching its tottering flight to the ceiling and then smiling at its dance of feigned injury. The medi-witches were very angry with him, because only Healers were allowed to use wands in the ward. He had broken rules that he knew well, but Neville had no regrets. He wanted to show his parents what he could do and he knew that he had made them happy.
Neville didn’t find out that he and his mother shared a Patronus till much later, when Kingsley told him after the war. The news surprised Neville because he couldn’t see the connection; he hadn’t thought about his mother at all when he cast the spell and part of him would have rather have shared one with his dad. It would have seemed more manly. But he was pleased, and after when he visited his mother he felt closer to her than he ever had before, bound by this mysterious link.`