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Chapter 636, Section 634: Longbottom's Meaning

The wheat field swayed in the mist, the golden ears of wheat rubbing against each other and making a rustling sound.

Neville lay on the ground, his breathing shallow and rapid from the pain.

He tried to prop himself up with his right hand, but an inexplicable pain shot through his arm, and he groaned as he fell back to the ground.

Blood seeped from the abrasions on my knees, and the blood droplets fell into the white mist, like drops into a white ocean, and soon disappeared from sight.

He wanted to rest for a while.

Lie down for a while, then stand up.

Neville closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

Just then, a gust of wind blew by.

He saw the flower again.

It was blown to within a foot of his nose, lying there quietly and sparkling.

Neville blinked.

Sweat blurred his vision for a moment, but the flower was still there.

Five petals, each a different color. The red one looks like the wrapper of a strawberry candy, the green one shimmers with a minty sheen, and the gold, purple, and blue ones are carefully folded and pinched together by an unseen hand, shining like a small, stubborn star in the lifeless white mist.

Neville reached out to grab it.

The moment his finger touched the petal, he heard a sound.

Gently, softly, with a smile, and a touch of patience that seemed all the more familiar from repeating it so many times: "—Come on, Neville, look at this. This is a candy wrapper, right? Let's fold it up, yes, like this—look, what does it become?"

Neville was stunned.

His fingers froze in mid-air, his pupils dilated slightly.

He had heard that voice before.

But—when did he hear it?

The repeated casting of the Oblivion Spell rendered him unable to recall any clues; all he could hear was a buzzing sound.

His palms started sweating again.

The candy wrapper suddenly moved.

It floated gently up from the ground, as if someone had lifted it up from above, swayed it in front of him, and then drifted leisurely forward.

Neville instinctively wanted to give chase, but the injury on his leg made him gasp. He gritted his teeth and said, "Don't—go—"

He actually got up, dragging his injured leg, and followed after them with a painful limp.

The candy wrapper floated slowly, as if it were intentionally waiting for him.

After walking for a while, Neville saw a second candy wrapper.

It was folded into the shape of a bird, with pointed wings and a raised tail, lying in the folds of mist.

As Neville bent down to pick it up, the sound rang out again—

"He's turned into a little bird, Neville, look!"

This time, there was laughter in his voice, the kind of laughter that couldn't be contained. It was as if the speaker himself knew that this game was childish, but he just couldn't help but play along.

Neville stared blankly.

His nose felt a little sore, and the hazy world seemed even more hazy.

"Who are you?"

His voice was timid, short, and soft.

The candy wrappers fluttered in the air, and Neville followed them without the slightest hesitation.

The third candy wrapper is a star.

The fourth picture is of a small boat.

The fifth picture is a crooked heart.

Each one lies on his inevitable path, and every time he picks one up, that sound will ring out.

It was as if someone was talking to him at the end of the road, using candy wrappers as road signs, nailing them one by one into the void, waiting for him to pick them up.

Neville's leg was getting more and more painful, but he was walking faster and faster.

He started running.

He ran with a limp and stumble.

He had more and more candy wrappers in his hand, and so did the sounds; they piled up together, like a broken song.

"Nawi—"

"My little Neville—"

"Look what Mom folded for you."

Neville stopped abruptly.

He stood in an open space, where the surrounding fog suddenly thinned out, as if someone had drawn back a transparent curtain.

He could see the edge of the wheat field, the black, white and red mist swirling in the distance, and the ground beneath his feet that was not nothingness, but something soft, like grass.

But he had no interest in looking at these things.

Because there were two people standing not far in front of him.

A woman was squatting on the ground, holding a candy wrapper that wasn't fully folded yet.

Her hair was dark brown, tied haphazardly at the back of her head, with a few strands escaping from the hairband and falling to the sides of her face. Her eyes were exactly like Neville's—not big, not bright, but they curved into two gentle arcs when she smiled.

She was looking up at him when she stopped what she was doing.

The man standing beside her stood ramrod straight, as if on guard duty. He had a square jaw, broad shoulders, and wore the same Auror robe as in the photograph Neville remembered. His hand rested on the woman's shoulder, his fingers slightly clenched.

Neville stood there, motionless.

His palms were sweaty, the candy wrapper he was clutching was soaked with sweat, and the color spread across the lines of his palms. He wanted to speak, but his mouth opened and closed, and only a muffled syllable, as if he were being choked, could be uttered from his throat.

"----Mother?"

Hearing the words "that woman's mother," he swayed slightly.

Then she laughed.

That smile was so bright that Neville felt the surrounding fog was about to be dispelled.

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she didn't cry. She just held up the candy wrapper and held it up to Neville.

That was a new flower.

He hadn't finished folding it yet; he'd only folded three petals. Neville saw his hands trembling, and he saw the candy wrappers he'd picked up slip through his fingers, scattering in the air like a flock of colorful butterflies.

"I----"

Neville found himself speechless, his voice completely blank.

"Nawi".

Alice's voice was soft.

Neville tried to move forward, but his legs suddenly gave way. He fell to his knees with a thud, and the wound on his knee, which had already dried up, reopened, and blood seeped out.

Frank moved instantly.

The man who had been silent and stood like a tree strode over and scooped Neville up from the ground.

His movements were rough, like lifting a wounded comrade on the battlefield, but his hand suddenly softened when it touched Neville's arm.

"Does it hurt?"

Frank asked.

There are only three words.

Neville had never heard Frank's voice before.

He had heard the story told to him countless times, heard the name "the Longbottoms" mentioned countless times, and heard people speak of the valiant Aurors with reverence, pity, and emotion. But he had never heard his father's voice.

Oh I see.

Heavy and coarse.

"—There are some."

Nawi said.

He didn't know why he had to be honest. He always lied to his grandmother, saying "it doesn't hurt" every time he fell, and saying "I just woke up because I was hot" every time he had a nightmare.

"They've grown so big."

Alice said, moving her hand to Neville's face, cupping his cheeks, and wiping the dust off his face with her thumb. "Better than I imagined. A million times better than I imagined."

Neville's tears finally fell.

He cried without any dignity, his face covered in snot and tears, his shoulders shaking.

He wanted to speak, he thought of many things to say, he wanted to say "I've been looking for you all", he wanted to say "Grandma always misses you all", he wanted to say "I don't know what Longbottom means".

"You are very muscular."

Frank looked at him and said.

Suddenly, darkness fell, and dark clouds obscured vast areas. The border trembled, and lightning flashed in the distance, its rumbling sound carrying far and wide.

"Time is running out."

Old Auror said.

He looked at Alice, who suddenly hugged Neville.

Neville stood there, stunned.

"You should go now."

Alice hugged him tightly and said.

"I'm not leaving."

Neville sobbed, his voice so loud it startled even himself, "I'm not leaving! I just found you!"

"You have never lost us."

Frank said, "Do you know what Longbottom means?"

"I have no idea----"

Neville was unwilling to reveal his shameful thoughts.

Always at the bottom, always below —

You'll find out.

Alice smiled, and tears finally rolled down her cheeks, tracing the lines of her smile and running down her lips. "My dear Neville, you don't belong here yet. You have a long way to go, my little Neville. You have a very, very long way to go."

She slipped the candy wrapper into Neville's hand.

Three petals, not yet fully folded.

"This is not a dream."

She said it. Her tone was firm.

Neville had heard such a determined tone before; it came from Mr. Castle Cat, who said he would definitely find this place.

Neville looked down at the candy wrapper.

It was wrinkled and half-dampened by his sweat and his mother's tears, but it still shone brightly.

A cat's meow rang out, very close.

Frank stood up, resuming his ramrod straight posture, as if on guard duty. He looked at Neville, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something long-winded, but in the end he only managed to squeeze out three words.

"It needs to be sturdy."

Neville stood up, clutching the candy wrapper.

His legs still hurt, he couldn't lift his hands, his eyes were still sore, and his palms were still sweating.

But he stood up.

He walked backwards, his eyes stinging, but he dared not blink.

Mom was still squatting there, waving at him. Dad stood beside her and nodded.

As Neville took his fifth step, the fog rolled in.

He turned around.

The world spun around.

He returned to his Gryffindor dormitory.

He lay upright on the bed, breathing heavily.

His gaze unconsciously drifted to his palm.