The Secret Life of Neville Longbottom – Part One
Beautiful silver eyes widened in terror over the gag as the dragon approached, the massive reptilian monster lumbering towards the appointed sacrifice with the stench of rotten meat on its rancid breath. With every footstep, the numerous bones that littered the tunnel mouth shattered, forming a perverse symphony upon which the creature made its march. The peasants in the valley below the mountain, fearful and superstitious, had seized the girl from her cot in the dead of an English night, bound her with thick ropes, and left her to writhe in horror at the mouth of the dragon’s cave. Only by the sacrifice of a virtuous maiden could the monster be appeased, the town elders decreed, and so, if the town’s herds of sheep were to be saved, Luna Lovegood would have to pay the price.
Luna groaned into her gag as she tried to struggle against her bonds, but while the villagers were unversed in such things as science and learning, their ropework was commendable. The girl flexed her wrists, hoping to break the strong coils that bound them, while her petite frame strained against the ropes that encircled her body above and beneath her bust. The rough hemp stayed strong, and no amount of struggling would force the ropes to relinquish their hold over her. Briefly, Luna considered running, but the ropes that bound her ankles and thighs effectively hobbled her, leaving escape impossible. “Mmmph! MMMMMPH!” she cried, vainly hoping that she could signal rescue, but the thick woolen cloth in her mouth denied her even this, and her attempts to spit it out were fruitless with the second cloth bound over her mouth. “MMMPH!” came another muffled scream as the dragon came ever closer, its great talons hammering on the floor of the tunnel. Another few steps, and the beast could gobble down the maiden at its horrible leisure. The slim blonde closed her eyes, giving a silent prayer to whatever deity might be watching that she might be spared. It was close now, close enough that she felt the heat emanating from its nostrils caress her flesh, and she relented, ceasing her struggles and waiting for the inevitable.
“Foresooth, foul beast!” came the voice of liberation, and Luna’s eyes opened up in astonishment. At the other end of the ridge stood a tall, proud knight, clad in glimmering steel plate and brandishing a mighty broadsword at the dragon, fire and iron in his voice. “Back away from that fair maiden, you villainous wyrm, or, verily, I shall strike thy head from thy neck and mount it upon my mantelpiece!”
The dragon snarled at this sudden interruption to its meal, and its red eyes burned with an arcane and terrible light as it glared at the knight, its gaze promising all manner of a horrid fate to the interloper as if the dragon was inwardly debating whether to boil him alive in his own armour or simply tear it apart to get at the soft bits. But the knight stayed firm, bringing the sword over his head into the guard of the hawk, as if mocking the beast to come and face him. “I do not fear a creature such as you! My blade is sharp, my will is strong and my cause is just! Withdraw or be slain!”
Another howl sounded from the dragon. It was afraid now. After so many years of devouring flocks of sheep, the odd villager that tried to face it, and of course the young maidens delivered to appease it, the arrival of a great and powerful warrior was most unexpected. True, some of the peasantry had tried to slay in the past, but they were frightened men with pitchforks, while this was seemingly a well-trained warrior equipped with the right weapons and armour for the job. The dragon relented, departing back to its lair with a final, frustrated snarl, leaving Luna quite bewildered. Who was it then, this mysterious stranger who could force a dragon to back down by sheer will alone? A soft moan escaped the gag as her rescuer approached, and the girl suddenly felt quite shabby and unremarkable in her stained white dress.
“Fear not, my beautiful lady, no harm shall come to you,” the knight assured her, quickly parting the ropes with a quick slash of his blade. “Are you hurt?” he asked, pulling the sodden gag from her mouth.
“Saints be praised, no, thanks to your intervention, sir knight,” Luna replied, giving herself a moment to let the circulation return to her limbs. Taking the opportunity to look up at her saviour, she noticed that he was indeed handsome, particularly with his warm brown eyes that made her feel like the world revolved around her. “May I ask your name, good knight, so that I may know to whom I owe my life?”
“You owe me nothing, damsel, for I consider it a duty and an honour to assist any woman as beautiful and lovely as yourself. But as for my name,” he said, cupping the girl’s cheek with a mailed hand, “You may call me Neville…”
“…are you there, Neville? Hello?”
Neville Longbottom was forcibly ejected from his sudden fantasy by Luna’s voice, as the slender blonde stood across from the table, her hands covered in potting soil. “How much soil should I use for the Flameroses, Neville?”
“Umm…”
“Did the Doopwhinkles get you?” the young Ravenclaw asked, dressed in the brown, light tunics often favoured by students working in the Greenhouses, the blue-and-bronze tie around her pale throat the only badge of House loyalty she current wore. Neville had been tutoring in Herbology when he began to drift off. “That’s alright, they affect me sometimes too.”
“I was just-”
“Daydreaming, I know. The Doopwhinkles do that, after all. I find that drinking a pint of water then standing on your head keeps them away for a time, but occasionally they will get inside your inner ear and cause havoc. What were you daydreaming about?” she asked guilelessly.
Neville Longbottom froze before the pretty young Ravenclaw, uncertain of where to begin. His thoughts turned back to the image of Luna, bound and gagged in his arms with an adoring look on her face, and his own turned beet-red in embarrassment. “Oh boy…”