Harry Potter and the Berserker

Chapter 11

Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.

One, two, three, and a swish of his wand.

Nothing.

Another attempt. One, two, three, and a swish of his wand.

Again, nothing.

Time to try yet again. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Over and over Neville swished his wand with every attempt as he stared down into the goblet that held regular water. The transfiguration that he and the rest of the class were attempting to turn water into pumpkin juice. McGonagall wanted to start them off simple after the class had all managed to turn matchsticks into needles, and water transfiguration was the next step up.

Water was what McGonagall had referred to as a base liquid for them to work with since its properties made it viable to work with magically. She had properly demonstrated the spell and wand work at the beginning of class, and half the class had already succeeded after the third or fifth try. As usual, Neville had yet to get his water to even change color to an orange hue. It remained as crystal and clear as when McGonagall had first poured it into his goblet.

What was he doing wrong? He was saying the incantation the same as the rest of the class and following the wand movements, so why? He didn't even need to look over his shoulder to know that Malfoy was laughing with Crabbe and Goyle at his expense.

The only small comfort he derived from his multitude of failures was knowing that he hadn't made a complete fool of himself in front of the entire class. Seamus Finnegan had somehow caused a small combustion to occur, evaporating all of his water and covering his face in soot.

"Trouble, Mr. Longbottom?" The curt voice of Professor McGonagall spoke from over his shoulder.

"Just- trying to get a feel for it, professor," Neville explained as he went over the wand motion once more. McGonagall watched and waited to see if this trial would yield and other results. She pursued her lips in thought when nothing happened.

"Mr. Longbottom, what did Mr. Olivander say when you purchased your wand?" She inquired, eyeing his wand suspiciously.

Neville shook his head. "I didn't get mine from Olivander's," he truthfully replied. "My gran gave me my father's."

McGonagall nodded in understanding. "I thought it looked familiar. Stay behind after class, Mr. Longbottom."

"Oh, alright, professor," Neville gave a small nod himself. He gave the spell a few more tries, but those results fared about as well as all of his previous attempts, his mind wandering to what it was McGonagall wanted to speak with him about. Knowing his luck, he was likely to get removed from her class. Oh God, what would his gran say?!

"Neville! How could you let your parents down like that?! You were supposed to make them proud! Make them proud!"

He shuttered at the mental berating he had constructed for himself. For as long as he had known his gran, it was right up her alley to say something along those lines. As much as she did care for Neville, she did make it clear on more than one occasion that he wasn't living up to his full potential. It hurt even more that he knew that she was right.

The Hogwarts bell tolled its noise and one by one the class began to pack up their books, filing out to get to their next class. All except Neville of course.

"You wanted to speak with me, professor?" Neville asked as he tentatively walked up to McGonagall's desk.

"Yes." McGonagall waved her wand and a chair levitated over next to him. "Please have a seat for a moment." He did as was instructed. "You said this was your father's wand, correct?"