Neville Longbottom and the Traveling Wand
As some may have noticed, Harry has a strong case of ignorance when it comes to things he is “supposed to do.” And that’s exactly what came into play when he sat down next to Neville Longbottom. The poor boy had set his wand down to catch his toad. Harry didn’t look where he was going and sat down with a snap. The snap being Neville’s wand. The much picked upon boy looked like he was about to cry.
“I’m sorry!” Harry said, panicking. Harry never dealt well with people crying. Grabbing his wand of fireballs, he handed it to the fellow first year. “Here, it’s an extra. It shoots fireballs, but at least you’ll have something for class.”
Granted, the unexpected generosity was not normal for the abnormally raised boy, but Harry’s regret was genuine. He fully understood the connection these Wizarding people had with their little sticks and he was never any good when people started crying. However, he was never really told that wands have different effects for different people, that each one was matched to the user. Accidental magics, such as the wand throwing fireballs, were not something just anyone could do with the same wand. It was very likely to have a different effect for other people.
For his part, Neville took the wand and gave it a swish. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
He vanished without a sound, a flash or a smell. He simply wasn’t in the classroom anymore.
“Where is Longbottom?” Professor Flitwick asked.
“He just got involuntarily teleported,” Harry said as if it were completely normal. Flitwick looked at the young wizard and sighed audibly.
‘I knew this was a bad year to stop drinking,’ the diminutive wizard thought to himself.
== == == == ==
All in all, Neville took his appearance on a bridge made of rainbows quite calmly. That is to say he stood stock still and didn’t fall off.
“Whoa there!” commanded a powerful voice. “Be ye man or beast to have arrived in such a manner upon Bifrost, yon Rainbow Bridge that taketh one to Asgard?”
“Uh,” Neville said in surprise. He’d seen a few things most people would call strange, but a man dressed in skins and gold while carrying a massive horn was not one of them. “I’m a man, well boy. I’m only eleven.”
“Ah, a mortal man-child then,” the powerful figure said, glancing the young wizard over. “How come ye to be here upon the Bridge to Asgard? You have not the look of the Einherjar and no valkyrie accompany ye.”
“I don’t really know,” he admitted, too stunned by the experience to be afraid. “I was in class and then I was here.”
“Then ye are no warrior felled in battle?” the man asked.
“Uh, no. I-I think I’m still alive,” Neville said nodding.
“How are you called, mortal man-child?”
“uh, Neville, sir, Neville Longbottom,” he replied, admittedly a little intimidated by the raw power of the man.
“Come, tell me thy story as I guard yon gates,” the man commanded. He waved a hand and a chair appeared beside him. “I be HEIMDALL, Guardian of ASGARD, home of the AESIR!”
“I should really be getting back to class, Mr. Heimdall sir,” Neville said hesitantly.
“Nonsense,” dismissed the Aesir. “Come sit, drink. I have brought mead and bread. Tell thy story so I can better know how I may assist. But know, there is no keener eye than Heimdall, Guardian to Bifrost!”
“Yessir,” Neville said, quickly slipping into the chair. His first sip of mead was like drinking the finest of beverages, a true ambrosia. And then he began to speak. He told the Aesir of his family and growing up. He had to explain the four houses of Hogwarts and Heimdall seemed especially pleased to find Neville being from Gryffindor. (Heimdall decreed that this was a true “House of Valor” and should be honored in Valhalla.) He told Heimdall of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Then he told Him of Bellatrix and the unforgivable curse used on his parents causing Heimdall to cry piteously.
“Forsooth! ‘Tis a great tragedy that such a noble pair of valiant warriors should be laid low by such an evil spell,” Heimdall said with excessive drama. He wiped his eyes clean with one hand and unbuckled his sword in the other. He forced it into Neville’s hands. Neville, not knowing exactly what to do, held onto the long blade. The Aesir pointed Neville towards the massive gates of Asgard. “Go! I send thee to the All Father, for there is none wiser in Asgard. If any be Knowing of a cure it be him. Enter with my blessing Young Warrior. I hope that one day ye shall join us as an Einherjar, but may that day be long off. When next we meet, I hope that we shall have many tales to share.”
“Uh, okay,” Neville said edging towards the big gates. “Maybe the All Father can help me get home?”
== == == == ==
Meanwhile, a certain Latverian monarch was on the phone with his credit card company.
“YOU DARE TELL DOCTOR DOOM!!
THAT HE BOUGHT FOURTEEN MILLION KILOGRAMS OF SPAM?”
“Yes,” the customer service representative said on the other end. “You have our special Dictator Platinum Card with unlimited credit, so the card never maxed out. And you see Mr. Doom, after your major purchases in the past something like this didn’t raise any flags.”
“DOCTOR,” corrected the dictator absently. “WHERE WERE THESE SENT?”
“From our records, three million went to the Avenger’s Mansion,” the CSR reported dutifully. “There were ten million sent to a place called the Savage Land and the last one million were sent to your palace.”
“HMMM…THAT DOES EXPLAIN THE LAST FEW MEALS…” pondered the monarch. “REGARDLESS. I COMMAND YOU TO DISCOVER THE CULPRIT OF THIS ATROCITY SO THEY CAN FEEL THE WRATH OF DOOM!!!”
“We’re working on this as fast as we can, but you have to understand Mr. Doom-“
“Right,” she said with a tired voice. “You have to understand that these things take time. You’ll be the first person to know after we do.”
“SEE THAT IT IS SO,” commanded DOCTOR DOOM! with his usual capitalized voice. “NOW EXPLAIN THIS NEXT CHARGE….”
The CSR pressed the mute button briefly to let out a deep sigh. This was going to be a long night.
Far to the south, land locked in barren Antarctica, Ka-Zar, Lord of the Savage Land, was reading a letter that came with a very large delivery. Shanna was looking up at the tower of cans in horror.
Dear Mr. Ka-Zar and Shanna the She Devil,
Last time I was down there you said you’d never had Spam. So now you can. Hehe! That was a pun. I also included some classic recipes for this prepackaged wonder meat. These include, but aren’t limited to: Spam and Eggs; Spam, Eggs, Bacon and Spam; Cheese and Spam; Spam, Spam, Potatoes, Spam and Spam; and Spam, Spam, owls, apples and Spam. I hear veggies are good with it too.
It’s in cans so it won’t go bad and I don’t think the dinos will be able to smell it. Please send the dino eggs like you promised. I’d like a big one. Hank says he’s got an incubator to fit even the sauropods. He was grinning when he said it, so I don’t know if I can take him seriously.
I’m going to a new school now. It’s pretty boring. They claim to teach magic, but they won’t teach us the cool stuff or anything practical.
Have a nice day,
PS: I bet your cat would like some Spam too.
Hawkeye leaned back in his chair and grinned.
"I like Spam," he said between mouthfulls. The other Avengers looked at him like he was the worst kind of super villain ever.