The Three Brothers: The Cure

The Start of Something New

8th November 1991

"Communication Breakdown,

It's always the same

I'm having a nervous breakdown

Drive me insane!"

Neville rocked his head to the song as Mark shredded on his guitar. It would have been better if Mark wasn't singing in a terrible off-key voice; then again, the upturned cauldron that Neville was banging with a stirring spoon wasn't exactly a proper set of drums. It was doing its job—to provide a beat for Mark to play along, and allowing Neville to experience a freedom that he hadn't been able to experience before.

Growing up under the watchful eye of his Gran, Neville hadn't exactly had an opportunity to let loose.

Even when he had tried learning the piano at his Gran's insistence, there was the shadow of his father looming above him. Of how Frank Longbottom was a natural at it. Of how Frank Longbottom was the pinnacle of dignity and grace during his performances—as well as everything else. Of course, Neville hadn't been able to keep up—his clumsy fingers and apparent resistance to learning a delicate craft like playing the piano had crashed any dreams that his Gran had of him succeeding his father's legacy.

No, growing up as he had, Neville had only managed to find his freedom amongst the plants. It was there that he was left alone; to explore what he wanted to explore. To make mistakes without anyone looking over his shoulder, and be able to learn from them as per his will. To feel free.

It wasn't until he met Mark and Fred and George that Neville came to the realisation that he hadn't really experienced freedom. If the time he spent in his greenhouse was akin to roaming free on the mountainside, spending time with his friends was like jumping off from a cliff into a lake. That was what he had been missing—pure adrenaline. Even now, banging away with abandon on the cauldron in front of him was just that—full of adrenaline.

"Hey Gred, what's taking you so long ..."

Neville looked up at the interruption to see Fred standing gobsmacked at the door of their dormitory. George was standing just behind him, with a similarly awe-filled expression on his identical face. Their presence disturbed Neville's rhythm, and Mark—who had been jumping on his bed while holding his guitar—stopped to look at once. Following Neville's gaze, he too noticed the twins in the doorway.

"Hey mate," asked Mark, swiping off the sweat on his forehead. "What's up?"

"That was amazing," George said in an awe-filled whisper. Fred nodded his head in agreement.

"Right in one Forge. Bloody brilliant," said Fred. Neville saw that his eyes were twinkling—obviously thinking of something. As if struck by lightning, Fred turned back towards his twin.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Depends," answered George. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Neville watched in fascination as the twins managed to hold a silent conversation by their facial gestures alone.

"Cool," said George, finally breaking the silence. He offered a fist bump to Fred, who promptly replied before turning to face Mark.

"We want you to teach us," said Fred.

"Come again?" asked Mark, obviously confused.

"We," repeated Fred, pointing to himself and George, before pointing to Mark, "want you to teach us." Pointing towards Mark's guitar, he added, "to play like that."

Neville found a thrill of adrenaline spike within him at the very thought. Learn how to actually play?

"Very funny guys," said Mark, looking away shyly. He must have thought the twins were pulling his leg.