July 30, 1997
Clumsy, spineless, Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom, stared horrified at the scene before him. His once chocolate brown eyes, now stained a brilliant blue, stared transfixed on his hands that were covered in a thin layer of blood. He didn't know what happened, one minute he was have a conversation with his uncle, then there was something said, then the uncontrollable rage, then everything was black, then this. What happened? Obviously he did something, or else his uncle wouldn't be lying on the living area's carpet, torn to shreds! He could feel the hot tears burn his eyes, he chocked on a shocked sob, eyes wide and unseeing as they stared at his hands. Neville's grandmother stood behind her grandson, a smile on her face. It was about time he came into his inheritance. And so young too, not even of age yet. He would be powerful.
"Neville dear, why don't you go wash your hands, while me and your aunt clean up this mess" she said airily like this was a regular occurrence and maybe it was. For sure she had seen it before, in her husband and her son. They were apart of a proud lineage of Celtic warriors that had long thought to be extinct, there family, the Longbottom's were the last of these great warriors. Neville didn't even answer to shocked and withdrawn into himself; all he could was nodding his head and head towards the bathroom. Augusta sighed, the boy may be in shock, but he will have to except his heritage. Augusta pulled her Cherry oak wand from her robes and pointed at him blundering idiot from Alice's side of the family.
Neville stared into the mirror aimlessly, his eyes unwavering. He had just killed his uncle, he had killed someone! What was going to happen now, where they going to throw him into Azkaban? Was he going to receive the dementor's kiss? He leaned against the white tile sink, his stomach churned with the image of his mangled uncle's image, skin barely hanging onto bone, blood everywhere. His hands shook and he grew pale. He breathed in slowly. He could feel it crawling up his throat like a snake; he quickly bent over the porcelain toilet, and let loose a torrent of this night's dinner. He heaved till there was nothing left in his stomach. Guilt ate at him. How could he go on, knowing that he killed someone, just for making him angry?
"Dear, are you okay?" called his grandmother from the other side of the door. All that he greeted her with was the sound of a running faucet. He slipped his hand beneath the cool water and watched as the water washed the blood from his hand and drained into the small black hole in soft red ribbons. It was like washing away his sins, he shook his head, and no it wasn't that easy. He cupped his hands and splashed what little water he was able to collect, he sighed as it landed on his warm face, cooling him. It fell in beads down his face.
Neville's eyes watch and every bead of water as it feel down his face, no longer did he look like the chubby little first year, he was a young man, with a clearly defined body and a strong jaw. He had barely notice this year all the attention he was getting. He closed his eyes; he could feel it churning beneath the surface, a terrifying power, one he knew he could never get rid of. Neville took one last look at the blue eyes in the mirror before turning and opening the lavatory door. His Grandmother stood before him, unconcerned about the incident before hand.
"Grandmother, what's happening to me?" he said in a small voice, for the first time he wasn't scared of Professor Snape, but of himself. For the first time in along time, Neville saw his grandmother stared at him with concern, and not glaring.
"Come to the sitting room, and I will explain everything" she said leading the 6'2'' teenager towards the living area.
A/N: well what to you think? This is kinda like a Harry Potter/ Tame a highland warrior crossover. Personally I think I will continue I like this so far. Please leave a review, see yha.
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