The Most Powerful Thing in the World Who: Neville & Frank (NPC) Where: GP What: Magic training When: Before and during Ginny's walk with Harry Notes: Yeah, I suck at writing Frank. I can't help it. But I've been thinking a lot about Neville's magic and how it works, and blah blah blah. So this is my attempt to explain some of it.
Neville had quite lost track of time by the time Frank put up his wand and called for a break. By now the carpet between them was burnt up completely, and the curtains on the far wall were a little singed.
"Getting better," Frank said as they sat down, rare encouragement, but Neville shook his head.
"If you say so. It still keeps getting away from me. Can't I just have a wand?"
"We've been over that. No, you can't. The level your wandless magic is at, a wand will just make things worse. And its getting away from you because you've never had to control it before." Frank poured water into two glasses from a jug. It was lukewarm, but Neville drank it gratefully.
"I'm trying, but its like it has a mind of its own. Its angry."
Frank paused, and put the jug down slowly. "Angry?"
Neville shrugged, miserably. "I don't know. That's the only way I can explain it."
Frank thought for a moment. "The first time you did a big spell," he said after a while. "You said you threw someone across a room. You were angry, then?"
Neville flushed, and swallowed hard. "Yes." And terrified, he added silently.
"And you were angry when you started the fire," Frank ruminated. This wasn't a question. Neville still hadn't given him all the details on that little incident, but he knew enough to make this observation. "Magic is based on will, and on strong emotion. That's why children use accidental magic when they are particularly frightened, or excited, or angry. Using a wand channels the magic and helps to control the emotional element. But it makes sense that wandless magic, born in anger, might also thrive in anger. Magic with personality. Interesting." He rubbed his forehead with his hand, in the area where his hairline was beginning to receed.
Neville grimaced. He didn't like that idea at all. "I thought you knew about this stuff," he sighed.
"I know a little, and more than most," Frank admitted. "But so few wizards practice it nowadays. Who we really need is Dumbledore. I've no doubt he would have more answers for us."
Neville drew his knees up to his chin. "But I can do things when I'm not angry," he argued. "At least... I used to be able to. But then when I got angry, it all sort of... spiralled. And now everything blows up, or sets on fire, or if I'm lucky, does nothing."
Frank tapped his wand on the arm of his chair. The sound set Neville's teeth on edge, but he knew it was the aftermath of his magic, and it would settle down eventually. It stopped, and he realised his father was staring at him. "What happened?" he asked, gently. Neville found he didn't much care for gentleness on that particular subject. A memory flashed, stabbing at him, and his hands flared hot.
"Hey," Frank said quickly, reaching for his shoulder. "Calm down."
"Sorry," Neville breathed, trying to calm his racing heartrate. "Sorry."
Frank shook his head. "This is why we're doing this, Nev. Someone could die, next time."
Neville swallowed. He suddenly felt very afraid, so overwhelming that for a moment he could hardly breathe. Then it all came out, in a rush. "Someone did die, Dad."
The hand was snatched back. "What?" The tone of voice was low and unreadable.
Neville blinked up at him, his vision slightly watery. "I killed someone. It... it was Rosier. He was there, and he was going to hurt Ginny... I... it just happened."
Frank hesitated a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was afraid it was something like that. Well, I can't say I'm sorry. I had plans to go after him and skin him myself, to tell you the truth."
Neville shook his head, unable to say anything else.
"Nev. Look at me." He obeyed, feeling sick to the stomach. "I know how you feel. No - listen. When I was an Auror, you don't think people got killed? The last few years, on the run, hell, the last few weeks, you don't think I've had to hurt - even kill people, to survive? And yeah, it sickens me, and I've had sleepless nights. But that's the world we live in now. It's us or them, or the people we love."
"He was going to hurt her," Neville repeated, his hands cooling as tears tracked unbidden down his cheeks. "And I know what he can do... I couldn't let him take her."
"Good man," said Frank.
"But she got hurt," he protested. "She got burned."
"She's alive," Frank pointed out. "And she doesn't blame you, does she? Don't think I haven't spotted you two sneaking off for a bit of quiet every now and then."
Neville flushed instantly, but he refused to apologise. Privacy was hard-earned in the house, and he felt they deserved every bit of it they could snatch. "No," he admitted. "But she's mad." He wiped his eyes furiously.
Frank chuckled. "All right then," he said. "Don't think about him anymore, that's clearly the path to disaster where your magic is concerned. We have to train your magic to react to different emotions, like happiness, or confidence, or love."
"Love," Neville repeated. His mind suddenly flashed back to the day Harry and Vera had come to the school, that night he and Ginny had spent sitting on the floor in the girl's bathroom. Warming that floor had been almost easy, and he hadn't really expected to be able to do it so... smoothly. Magic was easier when Ginny was around. He smiled, remembering the first time they had levitated a candle together - it seemed so long ago, now. Raising one hand, he remembered that candle, the cool air around them, the excitement of their first little bit of real magic. Ginny's hair shining coppery red in the dim, flickering candlelight.
He snapped his fingers, and a small, controlled, bright red flame appeared at his fingertips, burning with a steady, comfortable heat.
"Well done." His father's voice was soft, as though he didn't want to break the spell in celebration.
"That's it?" Neville stared at the flame, turning his hand over. The flame promptly slid across his fingers to lick at his palm, like a friendly sprite. "All I had to do... was think about love?"
"There's a probably a lot more to it than that," Frank admitted. "But its a good start."
Neville closed his hand, and the flame went out. "Oh hell, what time is it?" he said, looking around for a nonexistant clock. "We've been here for hours - I was supposed to be going for a walk with Ginny. I bet she bits my head off," he sighed, knowing she would think he had been deliberately avoiding the meeting with Harry.
Frank laughed. "Redheads. Don't let her get you fired up. Hah. Fired up. Get it?"
"Very funny Dad," Neville called back as he left the room.