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The forest surrounding the castle grounds was hardly Neville’s favorite place to be.
It would be, in a world where it wasn’t teeming with odd creatures that were dangerous at best and deadly at worst. There was truly interesting flora nearly everywhere you looked— sentient trees and mystical vines and flowers that would draw you in with siren pollen. It’d be nice to explore without the fear of giant creatures or centaurs or… literally anything else that crawled and bumped at night. But he felt a tad bit more secure walking behind Hagrid’s imposing frame.
“Just a bit farther now,” Hagrid grunted softly at the head of the line.
The class had been hiking through the woods for quite some time. Or, at least, it definitely felt like it. Neville swiped at his brow with the back of his hand. He wasn’t the most athletic person in his year, but a quick glance over at Harry and Ron told him even the quidditch players were looking a bit rough in the muggy air.
“The wisps like to play ‘round here. Funny little things, really. Some say they’ll lead you to fortune, or to your destiny— others’ll tell ya they’ll walk ya right off a cliff,” Hagrid glanced at the students over his shoulder, “just be careful now. Use your heads, and pick a buddy. Don’t let nothin’ happen to your buddy.”
The grass and leaves beneath their feet rustled as students doubled up with ease. Excited yet skeptical chatter cut through the music of birds and bugs surrounding them all.
Neville knew his fate already after Seamus idled up next to Dean. He was going to be picked last, left with whomever didn’t move fast enough to find their friend. He wasn’t exactly a hot ticket item when it came to group projects outside of the greenhouse.
His eyes wandered over to her, who laughed and smiled with a fellow Hufflepuff boy he often saw by her side. Disappointed, but not surprised, Neville swallowed and threw his gaze elsewhere before he could be caught staring.
“You don’t have a partner, Neville,” the soft and almost dreamy voice cropped up on his side, “but that’s okay. I wasn’t chosen, either.” Luna smiled up at him, and he smiled back. She was a strange girl indeed, but sweet, if a bit disarming.
Hagrid held up a hand, signaling for quiet. A hush fell over the class. “Listen,” he said, scanning the trees surrounding them, “if you listen, they’ll find ya. Go on now. And don’t wander too far!”
Twenty-five minutes and a whole lot of listening later, Neville let out a groan. His long limbs felt heavy as he trudged over exposed roots and ducked under hanging branches. “We’re not lost, are we, Luna?” He swiped his forehead.
She maneuvered much more gracefully through the woods, almost like she was a creature that belonged there. “Lost is subjective,” she said, stepping over a fallen tree. “If you don’t have a destination, you can’t get lost.”
“Right.” Neville sighed. He should’ve expected an answer like that. “Well, have you seen anything?”
“No wisps, no. Which is odd— they’re not usually this shy. Maybe they’re overwhelmed. I can understand that.”
How pointless. They’d been walking for ages, listening, looking, probably wandering further than needed into unknown territory… Neville paused in step, reaching up to grasp at a low branch for balance. It smelled like it would rain soon. He looked up at the graying sky, through the patchwork of leaves netted above, and sucked in a long breath. “Maybe we should—“ but when he looked back down, he was alone. Neville froze. “Luna?”
Nothing. Nothing but a distant bird, maybe a loon, and the buzz of summer insects surrounding him. Oh, Merlin.
“Luna?” He called out again, louder. Her name bounced around without anywhere to go. Neville noticed the muggy humidity that painted his forehead in sweat had seeped away, replaced by a unique cold, wedged under his skin. Everywhere he turned, he was met with more of the same— imposing trees stretching high above his head, bushes and tangles and boulders just big enough for something to hide behind. Maybe Luna, pulling some sort of prank. “This isn’t funny,” Neville breathed, itching to pull out his wand tucked in his pants pocket.
He took a few steps forward— at least, what he thought was forward. There was no way to tell which direction they’d come from just minutes ago. He couldn’t even hear the rest of his class.
But then, he saw it.
A bright blue bulb, floating between two round tree trunks, swathed in roiling energy, it seemed, though it was clear the sudden chill came from nothing else.
“Oh, of course,” Neville let out a terse breath.
He eyed the wisp, watching it rise and fall gently, almost like it was breathing.
“You’re not a bad omen, are you? Please don’t lead me to something bad. Please be a— a good wisp.” He took a few tentative steps toward the orb, his shoes crunching the leaves underfoot. The wisp didn’t reply— not that he expected one— but it trembled slightly as he got closer. Like a cork from a bottle, it took off, darting several yards away, only to wait in place again, a prick of light among the dark forest.
So, with a light groan, Neville followed it. He didn’t exactly have a better plan in his pocket anyways.
His legs ached. It felt like ages he’d been following the damn wisp. Over a creek just wide enough to soak his socks, through a suspiciously empty clearing featuring a strange circle of mushrooms, between a rock and a hard place (another huge rock, smashed together like a giant had been playing with them). Neville knew he was more than lost. But the only hope he had was following the glowing orb. It shimmered and buzzed with delight whenever he got close. Part of him wondered if this was some sort of endless game— would he be stuck chasing this thing forever? Going in circles, wandering, until something inevitably eats him?
His hand propped against a nearby tree for support. Neville tilted his head back, squinting up at the sky and the fading light between the leaves. It’d be dark soon, right? He had to have been out there for hours already.
“Oh, Merlin, I bloody hate the forest—“
“Hello?”
Neville froze, mid-gripe. His heart leapt into his throat and he threw his gaze around, trying to hold his labored breath to hear better.
“Hello? Ugh, I thought I heard something…” sniff.
It was almost embarrassing how quickly his legs shoved him forward, completely forgetting how heavy and tired they’d grown.
He called out her name, not because he could easily pick her voice out in a crowd or anything— of course not, why would you think that?— but because it stood out against the backdrop of nature he’d grown to quietly resent at the moment. He called her name again, and pushed through a group of knotty trees that’d grown together.
Seeing her knelt in the grass was a breath of fresh air. Relief washed over him as he trudged his way closer. The thick wood had given way to a meadow of sorts, lush with tall grass and pops of wildflowers. “Oh, Merlin, I’m so glad to see you…” he didn’t even care how pathetic he sounded, huffing as he drew closer— but the gleeful relief in his chest shuddered into uncertainty and made him stop just a few feet away from her.
She regarded Neville with a somber sort of look from the ground. Before her, in the grass, was a crumpled mass of fur. Neville couldn’t really tell what kind of creature it was, but it wasn’t moving, and she gave a great sniff, and wiped at her eyes with her sleeves. “I heard it crying out,” she said, looking down at the mangled little body. “The sound was awful, I couldn’t just ignore it. And I tried to help— I tried four different spells, and nothing was working. I didn’t want… I didn’t want it to be alone, you know? So I stayed with it, while it… died…” she sniffed again, her voice sounding more raw than he’d ever heard it before. Heavy, sharp, pointed, like she was trying and failing to even it out.
The only sound between them was Neville’s heavy breathing, and her soft sniffling. After a few beats, he wet his lips, and took a few steps closer.
“I’m sorry,” he said first, because it was the first thing on his mind.
He knelt down beside her and, maybe against his better judgement, took a closer look at the creature. It resembled something like a cat, or maybe a large weasel with long and sharp claws, though with the matted fur and the unnatural angles, he couldn’t quite make it out. “Um… what… is it?”
She sniffed again. “A callowby,” she said, “a young one, I think. It’s pretty small. Doesn’t even have its wings yet.”
Neville had just managed to get his breathing under control when he settled next to her, the long grass somehow managing to poke through his school slacks. He wasn’t quite sure what to say— he was never good at comforting people, especially when they were crying— but he wanted to say something. Wanted to do something. So, awkwardly, he laid his hand on her shoulder. Her body shook slightly, aftershocks from what he assumed to have been a bigger crying spell before he showed up.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, looking between her puffy face and the still callowby in the grass. “I know— erm— I know how much you care for animals. I think it was really kind of you to… you know… make sure it wasn’t alone.” Neville tried giving her shoulder a light squeeze. For a moment, he feared he’d made things worse, because she covered her face with both hands and sucked in a huge breath— but then she leaned against him, their shoulders touching.
“I know it’s silly,” she said, and there was almost a sense of bitterness to her tone, “to be upset over something like this. A wild animal. I just…”
“No, not silly.” Neville rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “I think it’s natural, actually. You’re just… a compassionate person. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
They sat like that for several moments, with her covering her face and catching an unsteady breath, and him gently rubbing her arm, squeezing her shoulder, unsure of how to help.
Then, finally, “we could bury it, if you want.”
So, they did.
While Neville dug through the dirt, she stood nearby, holding both of her arms as she watched him. “Where’s your buddy, anyway?” She asked.
Neville looked up immediately. “Oh, shite, Luna.” He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, “I forgot— we got separated, right before I saw the wisps.”
“You saw the wisps?”
“Yeah, a lot of bloody good they did me,” he went back to scooping handfuls of dirt. Irritation dripped from his words. “Walked around for what felt like hours, nearly lost my head, until they led me… here…” Neville paused, and looked up at her with a squint. The early evening glow from above encompassed her form in a halo from where he sat— ethereal, really, and it made his mouth dry.
She blinked down at him. “What?”
Neville shook his head and looked down at his task again. “How long you reckon we’ve been out here?” The hole he’d dug was just wide and deep enough for the little creature. He sat back and swiped the sweat off his forehead, smearing some of the dirt on his clammy skin.
“Hours, at least,” she said, watching as he stood to his full height again. A ginger wave of her wand, and the callowby was gently floated into the little grave.
Neville cleared his throat as she shifted the dirt over top. He peered anxiously at the sky between the treetops— there was still the threat of rain, with clumps of gray clouds overhead. “We should try to find Hagrid. I think it’s about to storm.”
The trek back toward the edge of the wood was mostly quiet. He was glad she seemed to know where to go— at least what direction to head in. It was more than he’d had all afternoon.
But as they walked, side by side, their hands brushing occasionally, his mind took a route of its own.
“How’re you feeling?” Neville asked, clearing his throat, and gave her a sidelong glance.
“I’m… alright, all things considered,” she replied, slightly hesitant. “I mean, we lost our buddies, got a bit lost ourselves, had a funeral… and I still haven’t seen a wisp.”
He couldn’t help the slight chuckle that slipped out under his breath as he watched his own feet step over roots and stones. “They’re tricky buggers, that’s for sure.”
A beat passed before she spoke up again. “Sorry you didn’t get to keep following them. You could’ve found something really interesting.”
Ahead, the trees started to thin out, giving way to more light, more open graces. Some distant chatter floated through— they weren’t far from where Hagrid had let them loose earlier.
Neville hadn’t found a treasure; no long-lost tome, an ancient relic, or some secret stash of coins. He wasn’t expecting to, really, but it was a nice thought. Even with all the illogical, impractical, wonderful things he knew existed in the magical world, he still found himself a bit mystified by things much closer to home. Real things, so real, though you can’t exactly hold them in your hands, but you can try.
He stepped over a fallen log, reaching out to help her as well. “Trust me, I don’t mind. Getting lost in the Forbidden Forest isn’t exactly something I do for fun,” he said. The voices of their classmates were getting clearer. He could even see Hagrid, his lumbering form, in the distance. Crunching through the underbrush, he noticed that she kept a hold of him still, their hands intertwined tentatively, and he cleared his throat, “I think they led me where I needed to go, anyways.”