Another Quick Fic
This is for 30minutefics challenge #33 - page 394. Thought I'd post this in my own journal as well as in the community. It's from Neville Longbottom's POV, set shortly after OotP, and it's called Growing Up Scared.
When Professor Lupin asked me in my third year what thing in the world scared me the most, the answer was easy. From my very first Potions class, I’d never been so afraid of anything or anyone. I thought Gran was frightening when she was cross, but she doesn’t hold a candle to Professor Snape. Besides, I know that, despite how stern she is, and how disappointed she can be in me, my Gran loves me. That can hardly be said for Snape! I don’t think he hates me the way he hates Harry. I don’t think I could stand that, I don’t understand how Harry manages to sit in a class with that awful fury pouring across the room. But Snape despises me, really despises me like I’m some disgusting bug that’s crawled into his dungeon by mistake and now he has to put up with it making a smell and a mess. I suppose he has a point, given what a disaster I’ve been in the Potions Lab these last five years. Doesn’t he understand, though, that I’m only like that because of him? Okay, I’m not bright like Hermione, but I’m not stupid. Yes, I’m clumsy a lot of the time, but that’s because I’m nervous a lot of the time, and in Potions, I’m so terrified it’s a miracle I can stay on my feet, never mind stir a cauldron.
Since my first year, I’ve had the same nightmare. It’s a dismal, rainy afternoon and I’m in the dungeon for double Potions. Somehow, I’m aware it’s a really important thing we’re doing, not even important like an exam but like I’m making a potion that could save someone’s life or something. Professor Snape comes in, and he’s even more scary than real life, really tall with his robes trailing darkness, looming over us all without leaving the front of the room. Everyone gets out their cauldrons and stuff, they all seem to know what they’re doing but I haven’t got a clue. These huge black books appear on the desks in front of us. “Turn to page 394,” Snape says, so we all open our books and I guess the instructions for the potion are on that page because everyone starts to work. But when I open my book, page 394 is blank. Suddenly, I just KNOW that the reason it’s blank is because I’m too stupid and useless to understand, so the book won’t even let me start. Even worse, Professor Snape knows it too. He comes over to my desk and in that quiet voice that’s a thousand times worse than shouting, he says, “Longbottom, that potion could have cured your parents.”
I’ve never told anybody about the dream. I feel really foolish, because I know that nothing can cure my parents ever. When I was a little kid, I used to imagine that I’d find something that would make them better, but I’ve come to realise that they’re never coming back the way I want. Even with my new wand, I’m not going to be a miracle worker.
The thing is, the business in the Ministry of Magic made something change in me. I met Her. And I realised that there are things in this life more frightening than Professor Snape by worlds and worlds. I want to hurt her, but even thinking about it makes me shake. You see, Professor Snape is a nasty person, but he is just that. A nasty person. She isn’t a person at all. She is evil. She isn’t even human. There aren’t words in my head to describe what I feel about the woman who put my parents into that box in their minds. I’m still afraid of Professor Snape. I don’t think I’ll ever like him and I don’t think he’ll ever like me. But he can’t touch the cold well in my heart that she has created. What scares me most in all the world is how much I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.
I had the dream again last night, but this time when Professor Snape said, “Turn to page 394,” there were words on the page. Maybe in another few months, I’ll learn to read them.
When Professor Lupin asked me in my third year what thing in the world scared me the most, the answer was easy. From my very first Potions class, I’d never been so afraid of anything or anyone. I thought Gran was frightening when she was cross, but she doesn’t hold a candle to Professor Snape. Besides, I know that, despite how stern she is, and how disappointed she can be in me, my Gran loves me. That can hardly be said for Snape! I don’t think he hates me the way he hates Harry. I don’t think I could stand that, I don’t understand how Harry manages to sit in a class with that awful fury pouring across the room. But Snape despises me, really despises me like I’m some disgusting bug that’s crawled into his dungeon by mistake and now he has to put up with it making a smell and a mess. I suppose he has a point, given what a disaster I’ve been in the Potions Lab these last five years. Doesn’t he understand, though, that I’m only like that because of him? Okay, I’m not bright like Hermione, but I’m not stupid. Yes, I’m clumsy a lot of the time, but that’s because I’m nervous a lot of the time, and in Potions, I’m so terrified it’s a miracle I can stay on my feet, never mind stir a cauldron.
Since my first year, I’ve had the same nightmare. It’s a dismal, rainy afternoon and I’m in the dungeon for double Potions. Somehow, I’m aware it’s a really important thing we’re doing, not even important like an exam but like I’m making a potion that could save someone’s life or something. Professor Snape comes in, and he’s even more scary than real life, really tall with his robes trailing darkness, looming over us all without leaving the front of the room. Everyone gets out their cauldrons and stuff, they all seem to know what they’re doing but I haven’t got a clue. These huge black books appear on the desks in front of us. “Turn to page 394,” Snape says, so we all open our books and I guess the instructions for the potion are on that page because everyone starts to work. But when I open my book, page 394 is blank. Suddenly, I just KNOW that the reason it’s blank is because I’m too stupid and useless to understand, so the book won’t even let me start. Even worse, Professor Snape knows it too. He comes over to my desk and in that quiet voice that’s a thousand times worse than shouting, he says, “Longbottom, that potion could have cured your parents.”
I’ve never told anybody about the dream. I feel really foolish, because I know that nothing can cure my parents ever. When I was a little kid, I used to imagine that I’d find something that would make them better, but I’ve come to realise that they’re never coming back the way I want. Even with my new wand, I’m not going to be a miracle worker.
The thing is, the business in the Ministry of Magic made something change in me. I met Her. And I realised that there are things in this life more frightening than Professor Snape by worlds and worlds. I want to hurt her, but even thinking about it makes me shake. You see, Professor Snape is a nasty person, but he is just that. A nasty person. She isn’t a person at all. She is evil. She isn’t even human. There aren’t words in my head to describe what I feel about the woman who put my parents into that box in their minds. I’m still afraid of Professor Snape. I don’t think I’ll ever like him and I don’t think he’ll ever like me. But he can’t touch the cold well in my heart that she has created. What scares me most in all the world is how much I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.
I had the dream again last night, but this time when Professor Snape said, “Turn to page 394,” there were words on the page. Maybe in another few months, I’ll learn to read them.