Harry Potter: Dragon Whisperer

Presents For All

8:05am

Monday, 31 July 1995

Longbottom Manor, Birsay, England

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Neville Longbottom always thought that his sleeping habits were rather strange or at the very least, backward.

During the school term, at Hogwarts, he loved nothing more than sleeping in. Sure, he was never late to class and always managed to have breakfast, no matter how fast he had to cram it in, but, on the whole, he preferred to sleep. Especially on the weekends.

But during the holidays, when everyone else he knew slept as late as they could – some, like Seamus, even until midday – Neville found himself waking at dawn. The reason was simple enough: to work in his greenhouses. Leaving them all-but-unattended for ten months of the year meant that, once he returned home, there was simply so much work to be done to get them tidied up, ensure that the plants already there were healthy and then to begin the new work that he'd planned for himself during the school term.

Neville loved nothing more than working with his plants. And, to be quite honest, even if only to himself, he was quite proud of what he'd accomplished with his plants over the years.

Thus, while on holidays, he was always on time for breakfast, even if he did have to rush to get himself cleaned up and made spotless, just as his Gran expected, on some mornings.

Today was no exception.

He was there, waiting by the tea tray for his Gran's entry with but a bare minute to spare.

As always, she gave a slight nod and smile to him when she entered the room. Neville returned the smile and began pouring the tea, making sure to prepare it precisely the way she liked. Once it was done, he carefully walked across to the table and placed it at her right hand.

"Good morning, Gran," he said, bending down to give her a kiss on her cheek.

"Good morning, Neville," she replied. "My thanks."

The ritual complete, Neville slipped into his own seat. His Gran, he knew, wasn't really a morning person either; at least, not until after she'd taken her first cup of tea. Until then, it was best to be where he was supposed to be, doing what was expected to be doing and to not ask too many questions.

The silence, though, was broken by a tap at the window.

Placing his knife back down from where he'd just picked it up, Neville looked around and blinked at the owl that could be seen sitting on the outside ledge.

A glance at the clock confirmed the time; it was still half an hour early for the owl that brought the Daily Prophet and for the usual post owls to arrive.

"Neville? See what the owl wants, if you please," his Gran instructed.

"Yes, Gran," Neville replied, even as he was scrambling from his chair.

Within moments, he was unlatching the window and allowing the owl to jump inside onto a table placed just below the window. It took one careful look up at him before regally extending its leg. Neville's eyes widened at seeing his own name written on the envelope.

For him! But he never got mail when he was home on holidays. Well, that wasn't strictly true, he did get a handful of letters just the day before, but they were all the expected ones, from relatives who felt obligated to send him basically the same thing every year.

After taking the letter, Neville fed the bird an owl treat from the bowl that sat on the table and then watched it leave.

Then, having closed the window, he retook his seat, picked up his knife and slit open the envelope. The paper that fell out was different from the usual parchment; it felt smoother, thinner. Muggle, he decided. But that wasn't the only thing in the envelope. Shaking it upside down, a clear, plastic bag dropped into his palm. Lifting it up, Neville peered inside to see a couple dozen tiny seeds. He frowned at the lack of recognition that they generated for him.