Neville closed his eyes. He was alone, again, in the dark. Gripping his knees, he wedged himself deeper against the corner of the staircase, hoping no one saw him. His toad sat at his feet grimacing at him, its chest puffed in and out slowly, its right foot spread out on Neville’s scuffed leather shoe. A tear rolled down his cheek and he squeezed his eyes tighter as he fought his panicked breaths from evolving into sobs. He counted backward from 500 to calm himself down and to ease his breathing into a natural rhythm. The toad leapt to Neville’s shoulder and placed its webbed foot on Neville’s cheek. This calmed him, he could breathe. His eyes relaxed, still closed, he counted his breaths—in and out three hundred ninety nine in and out.
"This feeling of being lost—all of the time—drove him insane and often left him helpless and alone."
“You can do this Neville. You just have to focus.” He placed his finger on the toad’s soft foot. That stupid toad. Neville wondered how something could cause him so much grief yet bring so much comfort. Being alone and feeling inadequate were two of Neville’s greatest causes for anxiety and panic. His memory was always a plague. He understood things, he really enjoyed learning, but things always seemed to get muddled up in his memory. He would get something really down and—snap, it would flitter in the wind and be gone. He never could really hold onto anything and really keep it. This feeling of being lost—all of the time—drove him insane and often left him helpless and alone. He thought of his grandmother. What advice would she give? He felt his eyes roll up behind his lids and he took a deep cleansing breath. A small floral breeze wafted past his face. It was warm and light, almost musical. He could hear her voice.
“Move Neville. Find yourself.”
Neville’s eyes burst wide open. He could only see darkness. A glimmer flashed across the staircase. He put his hand on his toad and placed it carefully on his shoulder and pulled himself clumsily up to a stand. He pushed his sweaty hand through his hair and brushed it off of his sticky forehead. He wiped the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand, allowing them to adjust to the darkness. Then, he moved. He found himself in new corners of the castle. He found himself delighted with wallpaper patterns and gilded frames, with smirking paintings of women and men, snoring balding wizards in overstuffed chairs. He found himself in a room that he didn’t realize he walked into. The room had the highest ceilings and sparkling windows that opened to the beauty of the night sky. He found himself dazzled by the celestial heavens and the grandness of the world. He sat down on the floor, his toad hopped off and nuzzled itself on top of some piled books. He found himself entranced by the glittering sky.
When Neville awoke, he saw the sun peeking up from the mountains in a pink and yellow sky. His toad was sleeping on his lap. He blinked lazily, realizing he had been here all night. The panic of being lost was missing. He was at peace here. He had woken up early enough to find himself and to figure out his plan for the day. He was already dressed since he never got to his room the night before. All he really needed to do was find a restroom and wash his face and find breakfast on time. The sky spoke to him. It eased his mind and gave him reassurance of his worth. Today was a clean slate and Neville could take anything on it seemed. As he got up to leave, he took in his surroundings. He needed this place. He had to find it again—so he could find himself. There were random items all around the large room: beautiful oak bookshelves with heavy carved designs, scattered velvety overstuffed furnishings, a large golden fireplace, and in the corner was the largest mirror Neville had ever seen. It reflected the room and all of its contents, including Neville and his toad. He took another glance and walked out of the large heavy door grasping the brass knob with a fear of losing something valuable.
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Neville found the room most days. Sometimes, like the Gryffindor password, the room was lost to him, but most days it was there right when he needed it most. The room was magical, perhaps not literally, but most definitely emotionally. This room gave Neville the peace and stability he needed in this big, loud place. He would lounge on the chaise and read novels. His homework made sense here. His toad bounced from shelf to shelf in pure delight. Neville could breathe here. Sometimes he would find himself lying in front of the massive mirror on his stomach just day dreaming. The toad used his head and shoulders as spring boards for his antics. Neville just watched it in the mirror and giggled at his gymnast toad. He waited there in the room for sunset, anticipating the beauty of the night sky.
This night was different. Just as the wispy clouds weaved in and out of the purple haze, Neville heard the door click. He glanced in the mirror to see who had found him but saw nothing. He rolled to his back and looked to the other side of the room. Dumbledore was sitting in the midnight blue arm chair. He had a glass in his hand and it looked like he was eating some sort of yellow candy. His eye twinkled as Neville caught his sight.
“Why hullo young Neville.”
Neville hung his head as he sat cross legged. He lifted his eyes and replied, “Hullo Sir Dumbledore.” A twinge of guilt panged his stomach.
“Quite a lovely sunset we have here. I did always like the candy colors of the sky this time of day. Speaking of candy, would you like a lemon drop? I’m afraid that’s all I have to offer. The butter beer is almost gone.”
“No thank you sir.” Neville’s eyes still gazed down at the woven carpet filled with house sigils and patterns. His fingers traced the lion.
“That mirror there is quite a bother sometimes. Finger prints and such. It’s hard to keep clean. You can’t see in it very well most the time.”
“Oh I can see in it just fine. I like to look out the windows in it.” He looked up, “backwards I know, it just makes me feel better to see the reflection of the sky—not so endless that way.”
“The sky. The sky is what you see?”
“Yes. Well, I mean I see myself, my toad, and the sky. I don’t really see any fingerprints. Funny though, it must not work on that part of the room. Strange, I can’t see you in it.”
“Ah, well, that’s because I’m magic. Or, just not quite in the right line of sight.” Dumbledore’s eyes, warm with kindness, smiled. He laughed a hardy laugh and stood. Neville took this as a cue to stand as well. “Well, Mister Longbottom, I enjoyed our chat. Perhaps we could do this more often. I rather like the solitude of this room myself, but wouldn’t mind sharing it a little. It’s quite a nice little refuge. Perhaps next time, I will bring a second butter beer?—or some chocolate?” His gentle voice and kind laughter put Neville at ease. Walking over, Neville tripped on the carpet. He caught his step and shook the headmaster’s hand. Dumbledore quietly slipped out and left Neville on his own. The sky had gone dark. The clouds were dense and heavy, leaving very little visibility.
He realized his toad was missing. He searched around the room. Stupid toad. A glimmer of light caught his eye—the mirror. He couldn’t figure out where the light was reflected from. He walked slowly to the corner where the thing stood. His eyes peered back at him in his reflection. They seemed darker and older. His freckles across his nose were more pronounced and his skin was smoother. His shoulders looked stronger. He turned his head slowly from side to side. He looked back into his own eyes and gazed for a while. He wondered if those eyes would ever be able to hold onto memories. He wondered if those eyes would ever fully grasp the information that floated around him. They seemed confident. He squinted. They were sharp and fierce. He surprised himself—almost caught himself off guard with their intensity. He smirked. Looking down, he saw his toad. Sitting on his shoe. Stupid mirror. Stupid room. His heart lifted. He left with a lightness to his step.
Walking down the hall, with his head high, he saw three figures huddled on the banister. One of them, well two of them—no three of them had ridiculous hair. He laughed. Hermione, Ron, and Harry must be up to something. Again. He wondered what mischief they had been planning this time. He thought back to the day at the quidditch match when he joined Ron in the blessed scuffle with Malfoy. That was the greatest day of his life. He would never forget the look of pure fear in Malfoy’s eyes as Ron jumped on him. Ron looked up and caught Neville’s gaze. He nudged the other two. Hermione waved him over.
“Where are you coming from Neville? We just finished a round of Wizard’s Chess in the common room. Ron beat Harry. It was brilliant.”
“I was just strolling through the castle. I like the windows and the architecture.”
“Ugh. I hate walking around. I always get lost on these bloody staircases.” Ron rolled his eyes as his mouth turned down at the corners.
“Oh, I don’t mind it. I quite like the air and the tapestries. There is a mirror in a room I like to look at. It’s carvings are remarkable. I wouldn’t mind a snack though. Would you all mind coming with? I may forget the pass word again and get locked out.”
Harry glanced at Ron, his forehead wrinkled, “A mirror?”
“Yeah. It’s nice. I look at the stars through it.”
“Hmm. The stars huh? Must be nice.” Harry seemed weird. They all agreed to get scones and some pumpkin juice from the kitchen. Neville felt good to be safe with friends and no fear of being locked out.
Neville really is the best.
