Wizarding One Shots

N E V I L L E • L O N G B O T T O M

Neville Longbottom and the Haunting of Dover Castle

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Dedicated to
Avengerssoulmate
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2000 | DOVER CASTLE

Worry was sticking to his bones like old moss and rot.

Besides the undeniably creepy aura that filled the medieval estate, there was an ominous feeling that something bad was going to happen at any given moment.

It's dark, stoney countenance didn't help soothe the mind, either.

Neville had felt the darkness mere moments after he had stepped foot into the great castle that sat atop the face of the lonely hill.

Now, being a wizard that attended Hogwarts, he had encountered his fair share of ghosts over the years. But he would argue that it was nothing like this.

The ghosts of his school were all friendly and moved out and about without a care. Going about their deaths like normal.

The feeling that he got from these spirits was altogether different. They abided within the dark shadows and that they did not take kindly to newcomers in their halls. They did not inhabit the castle. No, they haunted it.

Being as it may, he still found himself unwanted in a place he had agreed to come to.

Why?

The dream he had been having for years now. Dreams about Dover Castle and a woman he couldn't reach even if he desperately tried to with the tips of his fingers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black mass moving from one corner only to dissappear behind a tapestry.

He instantly wished he hadn't told Luna about the dreams, and certainly wished that he had never followed her advice on the matter.

The apparition had reminded him too much of the Dementors that flocked Azkaban.

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1367 | MEDIEVAL LONDON

It was a bright, cloudless day when the Black Prince returned to London after another tiresome expidition to Calais.

It pleased him to be back, as he would be able to see his wife and son again.  He certainly looked forward to seeing many of his childhood companions as well.

Lord Neville being chief among them.

The man was skilled in the art if war, yet preferred to be master of his own garden. Yet, there was none as fiercely loyal and just. The prince need only ask, and his oldest friend would gladly follow him into the battlefield.

As klop klop klop of his horse's hooves finally reached the inner courtyard of his father's castle, he was greeted by none other than his devoted wife and his dearest friend.

The young lord must have come all the way from Dover Castle to greet him.

His father had wrote to him that a great feast would be held in his honor upon his arrival. He wrote back asking that his cousin (Y/N) would attend.

For as long as he could remember, he recalled the young Lord watching the Duchess with reverent eyes. This would be the night that he made sure that the two interacted more. There was no one more worthy of the sweet (Y/N) than his friend and he was sure of it.