The Gentle Guidance

Sunday, the last day of Harry's detention and after a gruelling evening addressing letters and listening to his D.A.D.A. Professor discuss his books, interspaced with advice on how to woo Witches, especially a certain bushy-haired bookworm know-it-all, Harry heard a voice, a voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

§Come . . . come to me. Let me rip you . . . . Let me tear you . . . . Let me kill you . . . .§

"What?" the student said loudly.

"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!"

"No," said Harry frantically. "That voice!"

"Sorry?" said Lockhart, pretending to look puzzled. "What voice?"

"That — that voice that said — didn't you hear it?"

Lockhart looked at Harry in high astonishment.

"What are you talking about, Harry? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? Great Scott — look at the time! "We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it — the time's flown, hasn't it?"

Gilderoy sighed as the door closed behind Harry, rubbing the side of his face tiredly. Now the game began in earnest.

...

Breakfast Monday morning was another win for Lockhart. He hadn't planned to do this particular task until much later, but when opportunity appears . . . . And knowing he was helping Neville so early helped assuage his guilt at seeing the boy die defending a Muggle-born family and giving him time to escape after destroying the Hufflepuff Cup's Horcrux.

"Merlin, Hermione! This year is going to be awful," the human garbage disposal said. "What with all the extra work from that git D.A.D.A. professor, and in addition to all our other classes, I think that before the year ends I'll be in the magically exhausted section of the Infirmary," complained Ron as they entered the Great Hall ahead of several Slytherins.

 "Actually, it's not that difficult, Ron," Hermione admonished. "All Professor Lockhart told us to do was re-read a book we all read last year.

"We have a wonderful professor in Professor Lockhart. One with vast field experience, and more than willing to share that knowledge with us. You should watch and learn from Harry. He is doing quite brilliant and winning points for our House instead of losing them like you do." She missed the darkening expression on the redhead's face at that comparison as she turned to her other best friend. "By the way, Harry, you're doing very good. You should do that in our other subjects."

"Er, hmm," Harry said eloquently. "Thanks, Hermione. But D.A.D.A. is easy for me. Just like Herbology is for Neville. I can't compare to him, he is just ace in that subject," Harry said as they neared the Gryffindor table.

Harry wasn't used to being back at Hogwarts yet. If he had been then he would have noticed the Slytherins following them, listening closely. As well as who those Slytherins were.

"What did I just hear?" Malfoy said loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the Great Hall. "Potty thinks Neville is great? Surely, Potter, you know that Neville is a squib who cannot do even basic magic! To consider Longbottom good at anything is a serious insult. He is a bane to the name of Longbottoms." Draco's bookends, Crabbe and Goyle, chuckled at that, while Pansy Parkinson giggled behind her hand.

Gilderoy looked around for Neville. He had arrived before the other Gryffindors and was eating. Neville had his fork partway to his mouth. As Lockhart watched, and the rest of the hall laughed, Neville stood, clearly planning on leaving the hall.

"It would do you good to hold your tongue, young Mr. Malfoy," said Lockhart sternly, approaching from his position by the doors. He had been waiting for Harry and his friends to arrive before making his own entrance. He was overdressed for the occasion, as usual, wearing his mauve coordinated outfit. "Ten points for disrupting breakfast and ten more for spreading lies about a fellow student. Now go and sit at your table and eat your breakfast. Quickly."

"I object, Professor Lockhart," said the Slytherin Prefect Charlus Gamp. "It is Potter who is spreading lies about the magical prowess of Longbottom. Everybody knows he is little better than a squib. It is unfair to deduct points from our House. Mr. Potter is the one who should be disciplined for this."

This statement got a chorus of agreement from the Slytherin table and soon the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs joined in.

House points honestly earned through superior work should not be lost by simple acts, was the popular sentiment. It was bad enough that Professor Snape tended to pick on Gryffindor, they didn't want another professor skewing the system even more.

By this time, Neville had reached the table's end — his tears barely contained, with his head down in shame and back bent in defeat.

"One second, Mr. Longbottom." Lockhart moved towards Neville and caught him by his shoulder.

"Please sir, don't. I cannot take it," Neville pleaded.

Lockhart squeezed the Gryffindor's shoulder. "It's okay Neville," he said kindly. "They can think whatever they want. But it is not true."

"Not true? I am the most pathetic student the school has ever seen. I can do nothing." Neville cried. Nearby students all nodded in agreement. Malfoy smiled smugly.

"Neville, listen to me, you're wrong. You don't know your own strength." Lockhart gently guided the boy back towards the doors, subtly erecting a muffling enchantment. "Tell me Neville, How useful is a sapling?"

 "A sapling sir? It just sprouted from seed. Very few are useful at the stage, but when allowed to grow it might become an herb or shrub or a tree where it will be most useful," Neville replied tiredly.

"Exactly. All the pre-OWL students are in the sapling stage. Some grow faster than others might, others could be more useful, but all are just that, saplings. When allowed to grow, these saplings will grow into valuable plants, each unique but definitely useful. From what I see in you, Mr. Longbottom, you will grow into a huge tree that provides shade and shelter, fruits and flowers, and supports a great level of life. Don't take what others say about you to heart. You are much more capable than what you assume."

"Do you really think so, sir?" asked Neville, despair plain in his tone.

"Of course," Lockhart replied gently. He turned the child back into the Great Hall. "You would like a little demonstration? Close your eyes and imagine this. You, your father, and your mother on a picnic in a rose garden."

Neville immediately froze and looked up at him with an expression reminiscent of a deer unexpectedly caught in bright lights. "Relax my boy. I know this is hard for you, but a little imagination shan't hurt, will it?" Gilderoy/Harry said as confidently as he could. "Now imagine yourself laughing and playing tag with your father, and your mother's looking at you admiringly. Can you do that? Close your eyes, it might help."

Neville slowly nodded. Gently rubbing the boy's back, Harry/Gilderoy said softly, "Now carefully look at your mother. She loves you so very much. You can see it in her eyes, the way her hair swings in the breeze and the way her smile makes your tummy warm. The look in her eyes when she sees that her little boy is someone grown to be so strong, you are her wonder. Now look at her spread arms, which are inviting you to a hug. The happiness in her is like the warmth that radiates from the sun." Neville, eyes now closed, moved as if in a trance, imagining the whole thing while Gilderoy carefully guided him back towards the Gryffindor table, the boy barely noticing he was moving. The other students watched as they returned, wondering what the Professor was saying that they could not hear, the younger ones not realizing that Harry/Gilderoy had cast a mild muffling charm to hide his words.

.....

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