Chapter Text
Takes place hours after Neville Longbottom has faced his Boggart in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Remus Lupin...
Neville: *sitting by himself in the Entrance Hall which divides the Dungeons from the other areas of Hogwarts*
Neville: *chewing his thumb, contemplating, eyeing the dark entrance to the dungeons*
Neville: *Makes a decision - heart beating he heads down into the dungeons to Snape's office - at the door he hesitates, then knocks*
Snape: *curtly and with irritation* Come!
Neville: *opens the door, enters, and closes it slowly behind him*
Snape: *scowls at the Gryffindor* Dinner is just about to start, Longbottom. Why are you not there with your pewling friends?
Neville: *speaks but his voice is too whispery*
Snape: Speak clearly, Longbottom, before I eject your presence from my office, and you lose 20 points from Gryffindor for wasting my time rasping at me.
Neville: *swallows, and inwardly curses his dry throat - he is surprised to discover that a glass of water is floating in front of him - he grasps the glass, drinks the water, and when the glass vanishes, he speaks* Th-thank you, Sir.
Snape: *nods sharply and then indicates a chair for the boy to sit in*
Neville: *sits gingerly* Professor Snape, I know you've heard about my Boggart. Malfoy and his lot all ready bothered me about it with your reaction. *he gulps against the scowl growing on his teacher's face but stiffens as he gathers his courage* I-I can deal with the Boggart in such a silly manner but I figured out that that isn't going to make things better for me in your class.
Snape: Indeed, Longbottom. Am I to surmise you have a solution to our... differences in class?
Neville: *glances down at his clenched hands and gathers another bout of courage* I have a confession, Professor. *Breathes in and out, then blurts* I'm having trouble reading because the words just aren't acting right!
Snape: *regards the boy before him, and briefly admires the courage he finally dredged up to face his greatest fear -- Professor Snape* Describe what you mean, Mr. Longbottom. *leans back in his chair behind his desk*
Neville: *still nervous but not entirely afraid* The words in the book... they aren't where they are supposed to be... I mean... *furrows his brow in frustration*
Snape: *summons a quill and a blank piece of parchment and then he writes a sentence on it - he turns the parchment to face the boy* Do not read it but write for me exactly what you see, Mr. Longbottom.
Neville: *takes the quill that is floated over to him and then studies the sentence* I always have to figure out what's written, and then try to write the correct sentence but... *he begins to slowly and painfully writes what he sees - then he turns the parchment back towards his teacher*
Snape: *studies what the boy wrote - his sentence was different - he reads it aloud* The fibres of the mallow cotton provide the needed stickiness to Mending Plaster Potion. You wrote, Mr. Longbottom - The fibs of Cotton Mather need sticky to mend plaster potent. *he pulls the parchment closer and writes down a series of numbers*
Neville: *watches his teacher and then without either of them speaking he re-writes what his teacher wrote*
Snape: *takes the parchment and then reads aloud* I wrote 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 and you wrote I - 2 - E - 9 - 5 - 6 - and an upside-down and backwards L. *lowers the parchment and studies the small third year that still has not gotten rid of his baby fat*
Neville: Sir? *wrings his hands nervously* What's wrong with me?
Snape: Dyslexia, Mr. Longbottom. *the boy frowns in confusion* Known as a Muggle condition as it is extremely rare in our world; wizards and witches are susceptible, though. *the student continues to frown* To put it plainly dyslexia wreaks havoc with words and numbers making it nigh on impossible to read. *sighs and leans forward with his hands clasped upon the surface of his desk* You have not been purposefully blowing up cauldrons and creating sludge out of costly ingredients in my class...
Neville: *shakes his head and sniffles but does not cry*
Snape: *floats a handkerchief to the boy and finishes what he was saying* ... you were guessing and making my classroom into a warzone with your ignorance.
Neville: *sniffles again but uses the handkerchief* I never meant to, Professor Snape. Hermione would read the next day's lesson and although I took notes... well, they didn't make much sense after I saw what was written on the 'board in class.
Snape: So you chose to lose points and say nothing to me of your trouble, Longbottom.
Neville: *winces at the disappointment in his teacher's voice* I was... *his body shudders as he admits his folly* You scared me, Sir. And everyone in Gryffindor was mad at you and were sympathetic with me... it just... it's getting harder and I feel stupider everyday.
Snape: And, you are. *Neville's jaw drops as outrage rises in his bones but Snape holds up one hand* Peace, Mr. Longbottom. I am of the opinion that you should have come to me, or your Head of House with this problem in your first year. You have allowed fear to overtake your common sense, and thus your grades and your performance in your classes have suffered.
Neville: What do I do, Sir?
Snape: *rises from his chair and retrieves a small book on a shelf near the door of his office* You are fortunate you are a wizard, Mr. Longbottom, and that our world is magical. Whereas Muggles must learn to cope with their disability of Dyslexia it will only take you a few visits to an Ocular Healer with a specialty in the "Malformations & Distresses of the Wizarding Eye". *he shows the book to the boy*
Neville: *takes the book and eyes it, then his teacher, hopefully*
Snape: *speaks decisively* I shall notify your Head of House and in turn I shall send a letter to Healer Ommus Dietz of Geneva. Professor McGonagall will notify your grandmother what is required and we shall both effect the time you need in Geneva so that all of your teachers will be duly cognizant of your absence, and why.
Neville: *his voice in awe and just the tiniest bit of nerves* How long will I be gone from Hogwarts, Sir?
Snape: *re-seats himself at his desk, Summons parchment, and then the book Neville holds* A week, perhaps, but we shall err on the side of providence and make it two weeks. I shall also suggest a new wand as it is likely that your wand has been overcompensating for your disability. *he then glares mildly at the boy* You are dismissed for dinner, Mr. Longbottom.
Neville: *stands & smiles* Thank you, Professor Snape! *nearly runs to the door and opens it*
Snape: *loudly and firmly* MR. LONGBOTTOM! *Neville skids to halt and turns his full attention to the Potions Master* When you return from Geneva I expect your first potion brewed to be no less than perfect. Is that understood?
Neville: Yes, Sir! It will, Sir! Thank you! Bye! *runs out the door and Snape scowls in satisfaction as the brave boy's footsteps sound down the corridor until they fade* 15 points to Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom, for growing a backbone. *with a sharp wave of his hand the door to his office slams shut*
END