Every once in a blue moon, things went right for Neville Longbottom. Which is exactly why, on 1st September of 1995, Evelyn Bishop came marching into his compartment on the train, professing her absolute lack of skills in Herbology and her vivid des...
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one mimbulus mimbletonia
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For the first time in her entire Hogwarts career, Evelyn Bishop was wary of the first of September.
Well, it wasn't exactly the first time. When she was newly eleven and just starting school, she was weary of the changes it would bring her. That bought of anxiety had been squashed within twenty minutes of being on the train, when the Trolley Witch had brought along pumpkin pasties and boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
Then, there had been the time when she was thirteen, about to start her third year. That first of September had only been two months after her . . . well, for lack of better words, her incident. That year she had been weary of just about everything. She had spent the majority of that year with a rather large secret, one that she still hadn't told to anyone. And while the days had worn on from that year, unfortunately, she wasn't very sure if the third year anxiety had ever really worn off.
(However, that was a story for another time.)
But now, she was freshly fifteen and about to start her fifth year. She was no longer nervous of going to Hogwarts and only slightly hyper aware of her own secrets, but instead dealing with the large amount of panic when she realized that fifth year meant O.W.L.s year.
More specifically, it was the year that she would have to take the dreaded Herbology O.W.L.
If her years at Hogwarts had taught Evelyn anything, it was that she absolutely, one hundred and fifty percent hated Herbology. Wait, no ㅡ she loathed Herbology. Any other class, she managed to get by in. She had spectacular marks in Charms, Transfiguration, and Muggle Studies (she was a half-blood, so her father had already exposed her to everything Muggle before she even knew that she was a witch). She did average in Defense, History of Magic, and Divination (considering that all you really had to do was predict a few deaths for Trelawney to think you were actually having premonitions). And somehow she managed to scrape by in Potions despite the professor being the biggest git to walk the face of the Earth. But then, there was Herbology.
From the second she had begun the class, it appeared that the idea of passing every class was thrown out the window. The class, while taught by Professor Sprout, who was one of the nicest women that Evelyn had ever met, was just impossible to grasp. Understanding why Mandrakes screamed literal bloody fucking murder or why bubotubers oozed petrol-smelling pus was completely beyond her. She tried her absolute best, studying for hours on end, but nothing seemed to stick to her brain at all. It was just unfathomable.
