Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin

Chapter 16: Meet the Longbottoms (pt 2)

When Neville Longbottom was eight...

"Hello, Neville."

Neville jumped up out of his chair at the sound of Algie's voice. "Oh... Uncle Algie! I... didn't know you were here today."

"It's your birthday, Neville. Surely you didn't think I would skip it. Here, I brought you a plate of meringues." Algie took one off the platter and bit into it. "They're delicious. Your cousin Enid made them."

Neville looked at the platter of meringues for a few seconds without touching them. "Gran says I shouldn't stay in a room alone with you," he finally said in a quiet voice.

"Why not?"

"She says you may try to hurt me in order to make me use my magic."

"Yes, Neville, I very well might. Tell me, Neville. What do you think will happen if it turns out you are a squib?"

"I dunno. I guess I won't go to Hogwarts."

"That's right. Hogwarts doesn't take squibs. But that's three years from now. Three years of not knowing. Of wondering every day if you're worthy of the name Longbottom. And even if you get a letter, it might be that you have just barely enough magic to get in, but not enough to pass your OWLS. And if you fail those, you'll be judged a squib just as surely as if you'd never gotten a letter at all. That's another five years of wondering and waiting and worrying. Eight years total - that's as long as you've been alive so far. Another eight years total of looking in the mirror every day and seeing a failure. Another eight years of visiting your parents every holiday wondering if you're unworthy to be their son."

Neville didn't answer at first, but he shivered and blinked his eyes furiously at Algie's words. "Why are you saying these things?" he asked finally.

"Because your parents were great wizards and heroes to our society, and I think that if I were in your shoes, I'd rather die than embarrass them by being a worthless squib. And for that reason, I've come to make this offer. If you let me test your magic one more time, I promise it will be the last, one way or another. If you succeed and show your magic, no one will be prouder than me and I will support you with everything I have. But if you refuse me this test and are later judged a squib after dragging things out for years and years, I will hold it against you. When I am Lord Longbottom, I will expel you from the family and leave you with nothing. Whether you're eleven or sixteen, you'll be out on the street, homeless with no prospects and no education. And not just you. I'll send your grandmother packing as well. If you're not a Longbottom, then she has no further right to this house. She'll get her dowry, of course. That will be enough for a small flat in some tiny magical village and basic living expenses, I suppose. But if you take my test, whatever the result, I promise you that she'll be taken care of in the manner to which she's become accustomed."

"What if I take the test and fail?"

"Well," said Algie kindly, "at least you won't have to live with shaming your parents anymore."

Neville swallowed and looked down at the floor. He wiped at his eyes and then looked back up at the man who was supposed to watch over and protect him. "What do you want me to do?"

"It's a simple test, Neville. We're on the fourth floor of the Manor. There's a window right behind you. Just step out of the window. If magic saves you, you're a wizard. If it doesn't, you're free of guilt and shame and worry, and your Gran gets taken care of. Nothing simpler."

Neville backed away from Algie and towards the open window. Honestly, it was true what Algie had said. People had been waiting on him to show magic for so long, and it never came. He heard the whispers of his cousins and their friends – "Squib." Even at the age of eight, he'd been taught that without magic, he was a blight on the Longbottom line and a disgrace to his parents. He looked down from the window and felt dizzy for a moment. It was a long way down to the cobblestones below.