Archive of Our Own

Neville Longbottom was angry.  This was unusual enough that Harry Potter stopped walking.

Neville was sitting at one of the library's larger tables, surrounded by parchment, books, and several official-looking documents bearing the seal of the Ministry of Magic.  He was writing furiously.  Every few seconds, he stopped, scratched something out, consulted another document, and muttered under his breath.

Harry approached.  "All right, Neville?"

Neville didn't look up.  "Hello, Harry."

Harry glanced at the parchment. "That doesn't look like Herbology homework."

Neville laughed.  It wasn't a particularly happy laugh.  "No."

Harry pulled out a chair.  "What is it?"

Neville put down his quill.  "Paperwork."

Harry looked at the enormous pile.  "Blimey.  What for?"

Neville hesitated, then sighed.  "St.  Mungo's."

Harry's expression changed.  "Your parents?"

Neville nodded.  "Gran's trying to get their treatment authorization renewed."

Harry frowned.  "I thought they were already being treated."

"They are."  Neville rubbed his forehead.  "But the National Wizards Health Service changed the forms again.  Gran sent in the old ones, and they rejected them."

Harry stared.  "They rejected them?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because they're the wrong forms."

Harry blinked.  "But they were the right forms when she sent them."

Neville nodded.  "Yes."

Harry considered this.  "That's stupid."

Neville laughed bitterly.  "Tell me about it."

He picked up another sheet.  "Now we have to submit a new application for continued long-term restorative care.  They've suspended authorization for some of the specialist treatments until it's approved."

Harry stared.  "But your parents need those treatments."

"I know."  Neville's voice tightened.  "Gran's been trying to sort it out for weeks."

Harry looked at the paperwork.  There were dozens of pages.  Some had little boxes.  Some had enormous boxes.  Some seemed to require information that was already written on other forms.

One had been returned with a large red stamp:  INSUFFICIENT SUPPORTING DOCUMENTATION.

Harry frowned.  "What documentation?"

Neville pointed.  "That one."

Harry looked.  "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

Neville shook his head.  "They wanted the original."

Harry stared.  "Isn't that the original?"

"No.  That's the certified copy."

Harry blinked.  "What's the difference?"

Neville looked at him.  "Apparently, about six weeks and five galleons."

Harry sat down.  "Oh."

At the next table, Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy notes.  "Neville?"

He turned.  "Yes?"

"Surely your caseworker can help?"

Neville stared.

Hermione continued.  "St.  Mungo's must have someone assigned to your parents.  And your father was an Auror, wasn't he?  Surely the Ministry has some sort of service for injured Aurors."

Neville put down his quill, very carefully.  "You'd think so."

Hermione frowned.  "What?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"  His voice had become unusually sharp.

Harry looked at him.  Neville was almost never angry.  Not like this.  Neville took a slow, but sharp breath.  "The Ministry cut the Auror Rehabilitation Office's budget last year."

Hermione blinked.  "They did?"

Neville nodded.  "Gran says they reassigned half the staff."  He looked down. "Our caseworker has nearly five hundred former Aurors and their families to look after."

Harry stared.  "Five hundred?"

Neville nodded.  "Five hundred."

Hermione looked horrified.  "That's impossible."

Neville laughed.  "Apparently not."

He picked up a letter.  "His last owl took two months to answer."

Hermione frowned.  "Two months?"

"...and six days.  Yes."  Neville's voice began to shake.  "And when he finally answered, he said he'd be happy to help, but we'd have to submit the new forms first."

Harry stared.  "But that's what you need help with."

Neville looked at him.  "Yes!" His voice rose, exasperated.

Madam Pince glanced toward their table.

Neville lowered his voice.  "Yes, Harry.  That's exactly what we need help with."

He looked down at the parchment.  "Gran's getting older.  She's not very good with all this new paperwork.  And I thought..."  He swallowed.  "I thought I could help."

Hermione's expression softened.

"Neville..."

"But I don't understand half of it!"  His voice cracked.  He gestured toward the forms.  "Look at this!"

Harry leaned forward.  Neville pointed at a paragraph.

"‘Provide documentation establishing continuing eligibility under subsection seventeen of the Magical Health and Welfare Appropriations Act.'"

He looked at Harry.  "What does that mean?"

Harry stared.  "I haven't a clue."

"Neither do I!"  Neville looked miserable.  "And if we get it wrong again, they'll send it back again."

Hermione reached for the form.  "May I?"

Neville nodded.

She began reading.  Harry watched her expression change, from concentration, to confusion, to irritation, then finally to outright disbelief.

"This is dreadful."

Neville laughed.  "Yes."

Hermione looked up.  "Why are there three different places to list the same medical history?"

Neville shrugged.  "I don't know."

"And why does this require an attending Healer's signature when the next page requires a departmental certification of the same information?"

Neville looked at her.  "I don't know, Hermione."  he said, exasperated.

She frowned.  "And this section..."

"I DON'T KNOW!"  The library went silent.

Neville froze.  Hermione stared.  Harry looked at him.

Neville's face turned scarlet.  "I'm sorry."

Hermione shook her head.

"No, Neville, I'm sorry.  I wasn't..."

Neville looked down.  His hands were trembling.  "I'm just..."

He swallowed.  "I'm so tired of this.  I'm overwhelmed."

At the table behind them, Dracena Malfoy had been listening.  She hadn't intended to.  She was supposed to be working on a Transfiguration essay.  She had an open textbook, three sheets of parchment, and a half-finished explanation of the limitations of human-to-animal transformations.  Neville Longbottom had been getting progressively louder.  The conversation had become rather difficult to ignore.

Dracena looked over her shoulder.  "Longbottom?"

Neville stiffened.  Harry turned.

"Malfoy."

Dracena ignored him.  "Why doesn't your grandmother simply speak to someone at the Ministry?"

Neville stared.

Dracena continued.  "Surely she knows someone who can straighten this out."

Neville looked at her.  For several seconds, he said nothing, then he laughed.  It was a horrible laugh.

Dracena frowned.  "What?"

Neville shook his head.  "Of course."

Dracena blinked.  "Of course what?"

Neville looked at her.  "Of course you'd say that."

Dracena's expression hardened.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

Neville stood.  

Harry blinked.  "Neville?"

Neville ignored him.  He was looking directly at Dracena.  "Well, that's easy for you, isn't it?"

Dracena frowned.  "Excuse me?"

"'Just talk to someone at the Ministry!'"  Neville laughed again.  "Why didn't we think of that?"

Dracena stared.

Neville continued.

"'Just send an owl to someone important!  Have Father arrange a meeting!  Perhaps invite one of the Ministers to tea!'"

Dracena's cheeks warmed.  "Longbottom..."

"That's how it works for you, isn't it?"

She straightened.  "I beg your pardon?"

Neville's voice shook.  "You can just ask someone to fix things!"

Dracena stared.  "Well, if there's been an administrative mistake..."

"THERE HASN'T BEEN A MISTAKE!"

Madam Pince looked up sharply.

Neville lowered his voice, but only slightly.  "That's the problem!"

He pointed at the paperwork.  "This is how it's supposed to work!"

Dracena said nothing.

Neville continued.  "Gran and I have to fill out all these forms.  We have to wait for someone to read them.  We have to hope we haven't made a mistake.  And if we have, we start all over again!"

He swallowed.  "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Dracena's face tightened.  "Longbottom, I was only..."

"Of course not!"  Neville looked at her.  "You're Dracena Malfoy!"

Harry stood.  "Neville..."

"No, Harry."  Neville's eyes were wet.  "She should hear this."

Dracena went very still.

Neville continued.  "You might be able to walk into the Ministry and have someone fix everything for you, Your Highness."

Dracena flinched.  "But the rest of us..."  His voice broke.  "The rest of us ordinary people have to do things properly."

Dracena stared.

Neville laughed bitterly.  "There's no shortcut for us."

Dracena looked down at the paperwork.  She'd never really thought about it.  Of course Father knew people at the Ministry.  He knew everyone.  If there were ever a problem with something official, he sent an owl.  Sometimes he visited someone.  Occasionally someone came to the Manor, and then the problem went away, or got fixed.  That was simply how things worked.

Wasn't it?

Harry spoke quietly.  "She shouldn't have to."  Harry was looking at the forms.  "Neville's grandmother shouldn't have to know someone important."

He looked at Hermione.  "Doesn't everyone pay into the Magical Health Service?"

Hermione nodded.  "Yes.  It's funded through Ministry revenues and the contributions taken from working witches and wizards."

Harry turned back to Neville.  "Then it should work."

Neville stared.

Harry continued.  "Your parents were Aurors.  They were hurt doing their jobs.  They need care."  He gestured toward the forms.  "Why should you have to spend your afternoon doing this?"

Neville looked down.

Harry's voice grew firmer.  "You should be doing your homework."

He looked toward Dracena.  "Or playing Quidditch.  Or doing whatever you want."

Dracena said nothing.

Harry continued.  "Nobody should have to spend weeks begging the Ministry for treatment they're already supposed to receive."

Hermione nodded.  "He's right."

Neville swallowed.

Dracena looked at him.  For the first time, she noticed something she'd never really considered before.  Neville Longbottom wasn't simply a clumsy boy who was bad at Potions.  He was a boy whose parents were in hospital.
Whose grandmother was raising him.
Who was spending his afternoon fighting a bureaucracy because nobody else had time to help.

She had just suggested he ask someone important to make the problem disappear as though it were obvious.
As though everyone could do that.

Dracena felt suddenly ashamed.  "Neville?"

He looked at her.

She hesitated.  "Perhaps I could..."

Neville's expression changed.  "Do what?"

Dracena blinked.  "I was only going to..."

"Do what, Princess?"

Harry frowned.  "Neville."

Neville ignored him. "Take pity on us?"

Dracena recoiled.  "No!"

Neville laughed.  "Why not?"

She stared.

Neville stepped closer.  "Why would you want to help my family?"

Dracena opened her mouth.  Nothing came out.

Neville's voice shook.  "My parents fought against yours."

Dracena went pale.  "Longbottom..."

"They fought Voldemort!"

Several students gasped.  Neville didn't care.

"And your family supported him!"

Dracena stared.

Neville continued.  "My parents were tortured until they couldn't even recognize their own son!"  His voice broke.  "And now I have to sit here filling out forms so they can keep getting treatment!"

Dracena looked horrified.

Neville's eyes filled.  "So what are you going to do?"  He laughed bitterly.  "Ask your father to put in a good word?"

Dracena swallowed.  "That's not..."

"Or perhaps he'll make a donation!"

Her face went white.

Neville continued.  "Maybe we can have a nice little plaque at St.  Mungo's thanking the Malfoys for their generosity!"

"Neville!"

Harry's voice cut through the room.

Neville stopped.

Harry was standing beside him.  He looked serious.  "That's enough."

Neville stared.

Harry continued.  "She's trying to help."

Neville looked at Dracena.  She was standing motionless.  Her eyes were bright.  She looked like a girl who'd just been slapped.

Neville swallowed,then looked away.

"I'm sorry."

Dracena said nothing.

Neville looked at Harry.  "I'm sorry."

He sat down, very slowly and covered his face.

"Neville?"

He looked up.

Hermione smiled gently.  "Let me help."

Neville shook his head.  "Hermione, you've got your own work."

She waved a hand.  "I've nearly finished."

Harry looked at her enormous stack of books.  He doubted that very much.

Hermione pulled the forms closer.  "Now.  Let's see what we can do."

Neville smiled weakly.  "Thanks."

Harry sat down.

"Anything I can do?"

Hermione looked at him.  "Actually, yes."

Harry blinked.  "What?"

She handed him a stack of documents.  "Put these in chronological order."

Harry stared.  "That's it?"

Hermione smiled.  "For now."

Harry grinned.  "Brilliant."

The three of them got to work.

The next morning, Neville got an anonymous Owl.

Longbottom,

Speak to Edmund Wetherby in Slytherin.

His father works in the Department of Magical Health, and his mother is a senior nurse at St.  Mungo's.  He knows how to get the correct forms and which offices to send them to.

He's expecting you at lunch tomorrow.

Don't be late.

–Anonymous.

Neville Longbottom was staring at the letter.

Harry sat down beside him. "Morning."

Neville didn't answer.

Harry glanced at the parchment.  "What's that?"

Neville handed it to him.  Harry read.  Then read it again.

He smiled.  "Oh."

Neville scowled.  "Don't."

Harry blinked.  "Don't what?"

"Don't smile like that."

Harry tried to stop smiling.  He wasn't particularly successful.

Hermione leaned over.  "What is it?"

Harry handed her the letter.  She read it.  Her eyebrows rose.

"Oh!"

Neville groaned.  "Not you too."

Hermione looked toward the Slytherin table.  Dracena Malfoy was eating breakfast.  She was chatting with Pansy Parkinson, looking perfectly unconcerned with the affairs of Neville Longbottom.

Hermione smiled.  "Well, that's rather nice of her."

Neville looked horrified.  "Nice?"

Hermione blinked.  "Yes."

Neville stared.  "She called me a pathetic excuse for a wizard last week!"

Harry shrugged.  "Well, you did call her Princess."

Neville glared.  "She deserved it!"

Harry considered this.  "Probably."

Neville blinked.

"But she was trying to help."

Neville looked down at the letter.  "That's what makes it worse."

Hermione frowned.  "Why?"

Neville stared at her.  "Because I need it!"  He looked toward Dracena.  "Because she's right!"

Harry stopped smiling.

"I've spent three weeks trying to get someone at the Ministry to answer my questions.  Three weeks!"  He gestured at the letter.  "And she just..."  He shook it.  "She just sends a note to someone!"

Hermione looked at him.

Neville's voice tightened.  "One conversation.  That's all it took."

Harry said nothing.

Neville looked down.  "She probably didn't even have to ask twice."

Hermione hesitated.  "Neville..."

"She probably just said, ‘Do this for me,' and he did!"

Harry considered that.  "Actually, that does sound like her."

Neville glared.

Harry raised his hands.  "Sorry."

Neville looked toward the Slytherin table again.  Dracena laughed at something Pansy had said.  She didn't look toward them.

Neville's expression softened slightly.  Then hardened again.  "I don't want to owe her anything."

Harry nodded.  "I know."

Neville looked at him.

"But you don't have to like her."

Neville frowned.  "What?"

"You don't have to like her to accept her help."

Neville looked down at the letter.

Harry shrugged.  "She doesn't like you much either."

Hermione shot him a look.  "Harry!"

"What?"

Neville almost smiled.

"And anyway, you're not doing it for her."

Neville looked at him.

"You're doing it for your parents."

Neville went quiet.  Harry watched him.  After a moment, Neville folded the letter very carefully, then slipped it into his pocket.  "I suppose."

Hermione smiled.  "Good."

Neville looked toward Dracena again.

"Stupid Malfoy." he muttered.

Harry grinned.  "Funny.  She says that about me all the time."

"Longbottom?"  Neville looked up.

A tall Slytherin boy stood beside him.  "Edmund Wetherby."

Neville nodded.  "Hello."

Edmund sat down.  "Malfoy says you need help with some forms."

Neville stiffened.  "She told you?"

Edmund shrugged.  "More or less."

Neville frowned.  "What exactly did she say?"

Edmund sighed.  "‘Wetherby, you remember those Transfiguration notes I let you copy last term?'"

Neville blinked.

"‘Well, now you can return the favor.'"

Neville stared.

Edmund shook his head.  "Honestly, I should've known better than to borrow anything from that girl."

Neville couldn't help it.  He laughed.

Edmund took out a folder.  "Ok, so let's see what you have here."

Later that week, Harry caught Dracena at lunch.  "Malfoy."

She looked up.  "Potter."

Harry sat down next to her.  "Neville got his paperwork sorted."

Dracena continued writing.  "How fascinating."

Harry smiled.  "He wanted me to thank you."

Dracena's quill stopped.  She looked up.  "Did he?"

Harry shrugged.  "Well, not exactly."

Dracena narrowed her eyes.

Harry grinned.  "He said you're an insufferable, arrogant, meddling little princess."

Dracena's face hardened.  "How charming."

"But he also said his grandmother cried when she got the approval letter."

Dracena went very still.

Harry watched her.

"Well."  She dipped her quill into the ink.  "Good."

Harry smiled.  "Yeah."

Dracena resumed writing.  "Now go away, Potter.  You're distracting me."

Harry stood.

"Thanks, Dracena."

She didn't look up.  "Stupid Potter."