Chapter One: Coming of Age

Neville woke up slowly, pulling himself out of a dream where he, Ginny, and Luna had been pulling weeds out of his Gran's garden. The details were fuzzy, but he had the impression that they weren't unhappy about the work, just enjoying spending time together. Of course, as the dream closed, one of the weeds had grown a head that looked like Professor Snape's, and had tried to eat them all. Still, all in all, Neville thought the dream mostly pleasant.

He kept his eyes shut, trying to go back to sleep, back into the dream so he could pull up the Snape weed and watch it wither, but it was hopeless. Now that he was awake, he could feel the sunlight streaming in from his bedroom skylight, and his body was telling him it was time to move, to get things done. After all, like his dream, the garden did need weeding, and though he would have preferred to have his friends there to help him, he understood why they couldn't make it today.

Slowly opening his eyes, he found he'd turned in the night towards his window, which looked out on the garden he'd just been dreaming about. One of the hills between which his Gran's home was nestled was just barely in view, casting a shadow over the large garden out front. The sun was just peaking over the mountain, and several of the plants had turned towards its light. A couple of the snapping dragons had uprooted themselves in the night and were chasing after one of the garden gnomes, but this was fairly normal for a summer's day.

The walls of Neville's room were painted a dull, earthy brown, and twining up and down them, and growing up to the ceiling, were vines, real green, living vines. The flowers on the vines were starting to open up as the sunlight hit them, revealing blooms that shifted, seemingly at random, between all the colors of the rainbow. It had taken Neville an entire summer to get the spells right to make sure the vines didn't overgrow and cause damage to his Gran's house, but he'd been determined to do it, and so he had, under his Gran's watchful eye. At first, he'd been concerned about using magic outside of Hogwarts before his seventeenth birthday, but when he'd asked Gran about doing it for him; she had insisted he do it himself.

"The law says you can't do magic unsupervised," she'd instructed, "and as I will be supervising, it's perfectly alright."

Secretly, Neville thought she was just relieved that he could do magic at all and wanted to encourage him to keep doing so at every possible turn. She even had him using his wand for weeding, but Neville quite enjoyed the feeling of his hands in the brown earth. When left to his own devices, he put his wand away and pulled and planted without magic.

Beside his bed, which was only barely big enough for him, stood a small nightstand, piled with several different copies of the Daily Prophet, as well as a reading lamp. A small, cactus-like plant in a pot rested beside the newspapers, occasionally quivering all on its own, leaning towards the light of the new day.

Neville slowly sat up, stretching the sleep from his body, letting the quilt that covered him slide back to the bed. His eyes wandered around the room before settling on the top copy of the Daily Prophet. The picture on the front page was of a boy Neville's age, wearing glasses, with messy black hair, and a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Occasionally, the boy lifted his hand to try and hide from the cameras, like he didn't want his picture taken at all.

Neville remembered when that picture had been taken, just after the fight in the Department of Mysteries, when Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and he fought a bunch of Death Eaters, including Bellatrix Lestrange.

Though he had read the article several times, Neville picked up the fading copy of the Prophet and started reading it from the middle of the page.

So far, the Ministry of Magic has been quite mum about The Boy Who Lived. What little information this reporter has been able to gather is sporadic at best. What can be confirmed is that he had been residing at the home of a Muggle relative for some time, a home that is now completely deserted. While Rufus Scrimgeour did confirm that Harry Potter had been moved, when asked about the boy's whereabouts, he would only say, "Mr. Potter is safely hidden away, beyond the grasp of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as well as his lackeys." Further questions about the whereabouts of You-Know-Who, and what is being done to counter him, were met only with, "No Comment"

Neville stopped reading, not even remotely interested in what the Minister had to say about the war. The crimp on any war information had not let up, so anything that came from the Ministry was automatically suspect. Instead, he focused on Harry being safe, wherever he was.

Setting the paper down, he stood up, and started dressing for the day. As he slid his pants on, he was surprised that one of the pockets had grown quite warm. Reaching inside, he found a single Galleon, magically connected to several others, bore a message for him. He took it out, and examined it closely.

"Happy Birthday, Nev," the message began, "Gift next I see you. Gin."

Neville couldn't help but smile. It warmed his heart that Ginny had remembered his birthday, even if she couldn't be here to celebrate it with him. While the coins were limited by how much you could put on them, he'd been able to gather that Ginny was with Harry, along with Ron and Hermione, even if she couldn't tell him where.

For a moment, he wished he could be there too, helping the Order of the Phoenix out, protecting Harry, taking the fight to the Death Eaters. He was certain he could have helped if he'd been asked. A big part of him wanted to join the Order, like his parents had. Still, Neville was sure that if they really needed him, they'd have asked for his help, and he was determined to be there to give it.

After all, in the past two years, he'd already been on the front lines of the war, once standing right beside Harry, defying Death Eaters and holding them off until the Order had shown up, and then again, just a month or two ago, while Harry had been away on a mission with Professor Dumbledore. Ginny, Luna, and he were right in the thick of that battle, standing side by side with Ron, Hermione, and the Order in the fight.

He slid the magical coin back into his pants pocket, and pulled on a sturdy, greenish shirt that had seen better days. While the shirt was clean, it had stains that neither magic nor soap could get out, signs of constant work in Gran's garden. Over his clothes he slid a dragon hide apron. It had pockets for all his gardening tools, as well as one for his wand, enchanted to protect it against most gardening mishaps.

Checking out the window once again, Neville saw that the pair of snapdragons had gotten hold of the garden gnome, and were making merry sport of letting it go just to snap it back up again. Rather than have that mess to clean up, Neville decided it was time to hurry on with his morning work. He checked that he had everything, then opened the door, only to find Gran in front of him, about to knock.

After a brief start, Neville smiled wanly at his gran, who was dressed in similar clothes to his own. "Good, you're ready. We have to de-gnome the garden, and of course the snapping dragons are at it again," she said emphatically.

"I know, Gran," he said, "I saw them from the window. I'll handle the gnomes if you'll tackle the dragons," Neville replied, knowing that she wouldn't trust him with such a delicate job.

"Not today, boy," Gran said, with a slight smile, "Take your wand and deal with the dragons. I'll take care of the gnomes. I may not be able to fling them as far as you, but I guarantee they won't want to come back when I'm done with them."

Neville was too shocked to reply. Normally, Gran only trusted him with the most menial tasks in her garden, not with actually tending to her prized plants.

"You're of age today, Neville," Gran projected into the awkward silence, "It's high time you…well, high time I started treating you like…like the man you've become."

Rather than say anything, Neville simply hugged his Gran. She took his hug very stiffly, and hugged him back as if it was something she hadn't done in years.

"Yes, yes," she said after a few moments, pushing him firmly away, "there's work to be done, and we should get to it. First, however, I should give you your present."

Gran pulled a box from her pocket, and handed it to Neville carefully, like it contained something precious.

"Your fathers watch. He would've wanted you to have it. I had it fixed years ago."

Neville opened the thin box to reveal a gold plated pocket watch inscribed with a fanciful lion on the outside. He took it out gingerly, not sure how fragile it might be. When he clicked the fob, the out face swung open to reveal the watch inside. It had four hands, one for hours, minutes, and seconds, but also a fourth, longer hand that seemed to point at one of the symbols on the outer ring of the face. On the inside of the cover was a simple inscription:

They also serve who only stand and wait.

Neville looked up at his Gran, tears in his eyes, and whispered, "Thank you."

"You are most welcome, Neville. Now, go and put it away so we can get to work."

It took a good deal of the morning to pot the snapdragons back down, and the fact they could breathe a cloud of confusion dust at those they didn't like made the process a lot less simple. Neville, however, knew precisely what he was doing, and with patience and diligence coaxed the plants back to their appointed spot. He gave them some extra rabbit meat for being so cooperative, and by that time, there were no gnomes to be seen in the garden. Gran used her wand to fling them almost to the horizon after using a Confundus Charm on them. Neville had used the same process before, though he usually preferred to fling them out by hand. There was something more satisfying to him about spinning them around his head.

The pair of them then went around the garden, harvesting various plants for sale to the Apothecary in Diagon Ally. Business was brisk but small, so while they never got much money in one go, it was a steady stream of income at the end of each week. The owner often commented that Gran's supplies tended to be of far better quality than his other sources for herbs and plant parts, though whether he did this merely for Gran's benefit or because it was true was never clear to Neville.

The work calmed him, allowing his mind to empty and be still. In fact, Neville was never happier than when he had a garden around him, his hands deep in brown earth, repotting plants or pulling up weeds. He really could not understand why so many of his fellow students at Hogwarts didn't like Herbology. Then again, he thought, Professor Snape could never understand why he was so bad at potions either.

No, he checked himself, not bad, just not brilliant at it. I got an A after all.

They put the day's harvest in the small storage shed on the outskirts of the garden, and headed inside. By this time, it was near noon, and the heat from the summer sun had drenched them both in sweat.

"You're Great Uncle and Aunt are coming over this evening," Gran said as they headed into the house, "So be sure to wear your nice clothes after your shower."

"Yes, Gran," Neville replied quietly, and made his way through the kitchen, using his wand to fix himself a sandwich as he quickly passed through. Normally he'd have fixed his lunch by hand, but he was in a hurry, and he was somewhat relishing the fact that he could use magic with impunity now. He was, however, cautious to also clean everything he'd used as he went. He knew if he didn't, Gran would not approve.

He took a long, lukewarm shower in the bathroom that adjoined his room, allowing the heat of the summer day to slide off him along with the water and soap. The dull ache from the day's work slowly left his limbs, and he felt more himself again. Dressed now in a smart robe of burgundy, and having used his wand to clean the bathroom, he headed downstairs to find the largest owl Neville had ever seen waiting on the dining room table.

"A package just arrived for you, Neville. Please see to it at once, so I can start setting out your birthday dinner," Gran's voice came from the den.

Normally Neville only received his copy of the Daily Prophet in the post, so he was curious what had arrived for him. The huge bird looked at him as if it knew exactly what he was thinking, which disconcerted Neville so much he almost forgot the package it had set down on the table. Stripes of brown and white ran down the length of the owl's body, and huge rims of feathers poked beyond its massive head, giving it the impression it had horns. Pulling his gaze away from the owl long enough to look at the package it had brought only confused him more, as it was wrapped in a bright orange paper that almost glowed on its own. It was tied with a sky blue ribbon, and bore a tag on which appeared writing in a small, loopy script. Happy Birthday, from Luna, the writing declared, and Neville understood immediately.

He looked back at the owl, and felt strangely as if the bird was about to speak to him, but instead it merely nodded, spread its wings, which filled half the span between the walls of the room, and flew out the largest window in the house, through which it could barely fit. Neville watched it in awe for a moment before it disappeared to the side. He shook himself, and turned back to the package, smiling. He tore open the paper before he could think about it, which dissolved in heatless sparks of red and gold as it tore. Then, clearly but quietly, a soft voice began to sing a birthday song to him. He was amazed both by the magic involved in doing something like this, and that he recognized the voice singing to him as Luna's. He'd never heard her sing before, and thought she had a rather pretty voice.

After the spectacular opening, the boring box behind the paper couldn't help but disappoint him. It was dull brown, with a leaf imprinted on the side. Opening it up, Neville found nothing more remarkable than a silvery spade inside, save for the fact that the handle was bright neon green. A card inside declared that this spade was glow-in-the-dark "for all your nighttime gardening needs". An envelope inside bore his name in the same loopy writing he now recognized as Luna's. Tearing it open, he found a letter inside, which read:

Neville,

I saw last year that your spade had broken, so I thought I'd give you a new one for your birthday. I've made this one unbreakable and rust proof, so you shouldn't have any more problems. Next time shake the wrackspurts away, so you don't lose your focus. Also remember, to get it to glow at night you have to leave it in the sun during the day. I hope you like it.

Luna

As he was reading, Gran walked stiffly into the room, now dressed in a set of green robes. She looked at Luna's present with some obvious distaste, but didn't say a word until Neville looked up at her.

"From Miss Lovegood, I assume?" she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Yeah! It's brilliant, isn't it? Glows in the dark, apparently."

This seemed to puzzle Gran, though she didn't say anything about it. "Well, put it away, Neville, while I prepare dinner. You may do as you like until 6, when your Great Aunt and Uncle are due to arrive."

He quickly cleared off the table, careful to throw the box in the bin. He heard the whooshing sound of the cardboard being magically torn to shreds and sent to a compost pile Gran kept outside for fertilizer. Once upstairs, he put the spade in its place on his gardening apron and pulled his Herbology textbook from last year out of a trunk in his closet. Taking the book, he went downstairs and out the front door into the garden, barely hearing the warnings from his Gran in the kitchen not to get his robes dirty.

He found an old stone bench near the middle of the garden, and sat down to while away his hours reading his favorite subject. He cast a cooling charm on himself so the sun wouldn't make him sweat through his robes, and before he realized it, the sun was sitting very low on the horizon, almost sinking behind the hills that surrounded Gran's home. His attention was so focused on the care and feeding of mandrakes that he failed to notice two strangers coming into the garden. One, a tall older gentleman who shared Neville's round face and soft features, had long white hair mixed with grey, and was dressed on a long, flowing black cloak, dark green robes, and a similarly colored top hat. He carried a cane in one hand, the head of which was a great lion's head.

The other visitor, a woman with dark heavy-lidded eyes and long, thin, shining black hair that cascaded down her back in waves, wore a flowing black robe made of satin. She held on to the gentleman's arm at the elbow with one hand, the other resting easily at her side. The bench that Neville was sitting on faced outward, away from the house, so when he looked up from his textbook, he couldn't help but see the pair walking up the small lane between the rows of plants. At first, he thought it was his Great Aunt and Uncle, but on a second look, his eyes grew wide.

He dropped his book to the ground, and was on his feet in an instant, his wand pulled out in the same fluid motion. "STUPIFY!" he almost screamed, and a jet of red light flew from his wand, aimed at the heart of the dark eyed woman. The gentleman barely got his own wand out in time to deflect the spell and place himself between Neville and the lady.

"Is that any way to greet a guest, Mister Longbottom?" The man said in a voice that oozed charm and fell into the ears like silk. Without another word, the older man waved his wand, and a white jet of light flew at the boy.

Neville, however, had taken the moment the other man gave him to quietly cast a Shielding Charm, so whatever spell that had been flung at him rebounded back on the old man, who dissipated the spell with another wave of his wand.

"Quite impressive-", the older man got out, but Neville did not give him the chance to finish whatever he was saying, as he pointed his wand at the man, shooting a spell at him without a word. He barely had time to put up his own Shielding Charm before the spell got to him, deflecting to the left and into the dirt.

By this time, Gran was out the front door of the house, her own wand out, running as fast as she dared into the fray. The other dark eyed woman pulled her own wand at this point, but kept it pointed away from anyone, seeming to prefer the older man to take the lead.

Neville, in the meantime, was preparing to fling another spell at the pair of intruders.

"Neville, what are you DOING?" his Gran nearly shouted.

"Taking Bellatrix Le..." he began, but stopped short as the other woman stepped a little closer. While her features were definitely shared by many members of the Black family, the woman standing in front of him had wrinkles around her eyes, as well as on the skin of her hands. She was obviously much older than the woman who had tortured Neville's parents into insanity.

"That's not…oh, I…I'm so sorry, miss. I thought…" Neville stammered.

"You just mistook me for a cousin who is 40 years my junior, young man. I'm sure I can forgive you for that," the woman said with a smile, in a kind voice that could not have come from Lestrange, "but I think introductions are in order," she finished with a look towards Gran.

Gran gave the pair of visitors a somewhat disapproving look before she spoke, "Neville, this is your grandfather's uncle, Harfang Longbottom, and his wife, Callidora."

"Your cousin?" Neville asked, barely registering the names.

"What are you doing here, Harfang?" Gran interjected crossly, before Callidora could answer.

"My business is with the young man, not with you, Augusta," Harfang replied dismissively, ignoring her and keeping his gaze on Neville. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. No one talked to Gran like that.

"What business could you possibly have with Neville?" Gran retorted, a dangerous edge in her tone.

"He is of age today, and the eldest male Longbottom, it is my duty to test him to see if he is fit," Harfang drawled in an even tone.

"That ridiculous tradition? You can't be serious!" Gran said, her wand still in her hand.

"Your father and his father before him were tested. Our family has been one of warriors and duelists for the past millennium," Harfang continued looking straight at Neville, seeming to ignore Gran, "and it is because of this tradition that we can still claim that honor today, despite the interference of those who would see it die."

Neville was about to speak up when Gran seemed to come to a decision, and spoke first, "Oh, very well. Neville, put this blow hard in his place for me, would you? I'll just make sure Callidora doesn't interfere."

Neville did not allow himself time to feel his shock at the turn of events, but instead cleared his mind of anything that might distract him. While officially Dumbledore's Army had been disbanded, he, Luna, and Ginny had decided that extra defense practice was well worth the effort, and they had spent many of their off hours last year in the Room of Requirement continuing to work on their skill. Most of the time, it had been just himself and Luna, as Ginny had Quidditch, but she joined them when she could. That extra work had definitely paid off at the end of the year. Now Neville intended to put it to good use once again.

"Your permission was not required," Harfang glowered, but kept his focus on Neville, "Are you ready to begin?"

The duel was short, but fierce. Harfang was a skilled and creative duelist, with years of experience, and it took all of Neville's concentration to keep up with him. However, it became apparent as the duel progressed that Harfang was somewhat out of practice, and that his speed and endurance had waned over the years. Further, Harfang wanted to talk and taunt while he fought, allowing Neville several openings he otherwise would not have had. Neville quickly pressed the small tactical advantage by increasing his own speed and ignoring Harfang's taunts, forcing the old man to react rather than attack. By the time it was finished, Neville had broken Harfang's shield and disarmed him with an Expelliarmus, flinging his wand well out of the old man's reach. Panting and exhausted, the old man raised his hands in defeat.

"I…have never…been beaten…by someone…so young," Harfang got out between panting breaths, "I knew this wasn't your first fight…but I was not prepared…for how skilled you actually are."

"You shouldn't try to talk to someone you're dueling," Neville replied, a little tired himself, but not nearly so much as Harfang, "It left you open. You would have won if you'd just focused on fighting."

"I'm not so sure," Callidora interjected, a broad smile on her face, "I've seen my share of duels as well, and to say that you are exceptional is something of an understatement. I have never seen my husband bested."

Harfang shot Callidora a skeptical look, but said nothing to her. Instead, he took a moment to catch his breath as he collected his wand. Still not trusting this pair of relatives, Neville did not put his wand away.

"Are you quite finished?" Gran said, not bothering to hide the amusement in her voice, "If so, I'd quite like you to leave my property."

Harfang narrowed his eyes at Gran, then turned on his heal and stalked off in a huff, but Callidora lingered for a moment.

"We do have a coming of age gift for you, Neville," she said, smiling sweetly as she carefully pulled a large sack from one of the pockets on her robe and held it out to Neville, "We didn't know what you'd like, so we thought a small gift of coin would suffice."

Looking to Gran first, who gave him a curt nod; he took the offered bag from the older woman's hands, but still did not put away his own wand.

"You'll have to forgive my husband; he's not used to losing. However, I would like to say that I'm very, very impressed, Neville. Well done."

With that parting word, she too turned and left the property, Disapparating away just beyond the range of the wards.

"Well, now that that's over with, shall we get ready for your birthday dinner? Your Great Uncle should be here soon." Gran said, smiling widely at her grandson.

Smiling back, he followed Gran into the house.