Neville unfolded the pamphlet yet again. He had opened and closed it so many times that the once-stiff folds flopped open easily.
The oldest and most prestigious of Britain’s herbology exhibitions, the Annual Magical Plants and Herbs Faire of Great Britain is attended by thousands every year. Every wizard, witch and child in attendance greatly enjoys the spectacular Floral Display, the Flesh-Eating PlantLife Contest, the Rarities Exhibit, and much, much more!
It was not until the age of eleven that Neville had discovered a highly unexpected talent for Herbology. Upon return from his first year at Hogwarts, to his grandmother’s surprise, he had made a beeline for the ancient greenhouse behind the Longbottom family home.
One of the first Longbottoms, an only daughter, had been given a large, beautiful greenhouse for her fifteenth birthday. In the several generations since, there had usually been one or two people who cared for its contents. The herbology gene, according to Gran, had skipped at least one generation before returning with a vengeance in Neville. It had taken him that whole first summer to acquire a few common, hardy plants, and to fix what he could about the greenhouse.
At first, Gran had tolerated the new obsession, but she became slightly alarmed as Neville appeared in the house less and less. She highly approved of the near-perfect grades he earned for the subject in school, but couldn’t see “what use plants will be when you need a good job.” (This comment was inevitably followed by, “Your father was an Auror. That’s a prestigious, well-paying career. Dangerous, but it has its compensations.”)
In the summer after his third year Neville discovered, with something resembling bewildered delight, that he mastered spells better when he used them to do anything with plants or with the greenhouse. He managed, in fact, to entirely repair the glass roof, as well as the walls. For this accomplishment, Gran bought him a new cage for Trevor and (better yet) stopped nagging him about spending so much time with the plants.
Now, in the summer before his final year at Hogwarts, Neville had a huge collection of plants, a fully up-to-date greenhouse, a special section of rare plants given to him by his extended family, and a subscription to Magical Herbology of the World. It was from the latest of these magazines that the flier for the Faire had fallen.
He had avidly read about the Faire for a few years, but this year, it had suddenly struck him that he might be able to go “ better yet, to enter.
To Enter a Plant or Herb in Competition:
- You must be at least sixteen years of age; if younger, you must have signed permission from a parent or guardian
- It must fall into any of these categories: Rare, Flesh-Eating, or Floral
- Each plant or herb must be registered in only one category....
Neville had never wanted to do anything quite so badly in his life (unless it was to sink through the floor in some of Professor Snape’s lessons). Last time, Gran had still been in a tizzy over the Ministry of Magic uproar, so Neville hadn’t asked. This time, though…his mimbulus mimbletonia was certainly rare “ Professor Sprout had never seen a live one before “ and it was thriving. And it was the most affectionate plant he had come across. He rather felt that he owed it something for doing so well (though he hadn’t dared mention it to anyone).
But more than any of that, he dreamed of being surrounded by thousands of people who were as passionate about plants as he was. A place where his “plant quirks” would be accepted, nurtured “ maybe even rewarded by some sort of Honourable Mention prize.
He flicked to the part about transportation.
An Apparition Point will be....
There will be a small landing field for those travelling by broomstick....
There it was.
Portkeys are available for purchase. Send your address along with two Galleons, and an owl will bring you a small Portkey, which will activate on Friday....
He had two Galleons. He had been dropping them from hand to hand for the past hour, when he wasn’t flipping through the pamphlet.
If he asked Gran, she might say no. He could probably talk her around to it; after all, he had gotten an “O” on his O.W.L.s. The problem was that she didn’t see it as a useful pursuit and therefore did not endorse it.
But he was close to seventeen; only a month away, actually, and he would be able to make decisions for himself. Shouldn’t he make decisions? He would have to be able to sometime; it might as well be now. The Faire was a worthy, harmless time, and highly prestigious.
His father had not cared for Herbology.
That was the first thing Gran had said when she saw his marks for his first year at Hogwarts. “Transfiguration, passable; Potions “ Neville, that’s abysmal! What have you been doing, melting your cauldrons? Charms, decent; Herbology “ well. Well. Your father was quite terrible at Herbology, killed half the plants he had to handle, you know….”
Neville wondered if his eagerness to pursue Herbology was pride in knowing that he was someone besides his father, or if it was desperation to get away from his legacy. Maybe both.
He stood abruptly and rooted under his bed, pulling out a small photograph album. He sat, leaned against his bed, and opened it.
He studied it for a few moments, the worry lines smoothing themselves out. After a time, he put the album carefully away and reached for the reply parchment.
Neville Longbottom
107 Greenhill Road.…