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Ficlet: Graduation Day
A bit of Harry Potter fic, especially for Neville fans and people who are graduating this month. Totally compliant with interview!canon, for once.
For centuries, the University of Wittenberg had housed the only postgraduate programs in magical Europe, so it was traditional for graduates to wear the robes of the school where they had studied until the age of eighteen.
“It’s like plumage,” Luna announced, tugging at the russet hood that identified her as a brand-new Master of Cryptozoology and observing the professors in their colorful robes. “They should do a special dance. There could be a Beauxbatons dance, and a Durmstrang dance, and a Hogwarts dance...”
In spite of his nervousness, Neville laughed.
Hannah Abbot came running up to them. “Now that I’m done with this bloody thesis, I’m never going to do anything with History of Magic for the rest of my life. I’m going to work in a pub or something.”
“A historic one?” Neville asked.
Hannah hit him with her cap.
“That was a mating dance,” Luna commented when Hannah went off to get some water.
“It was?” said Neville.
Luna gave him a penetrating look. “You’re rather bad at recognizing mating dances, Neville. I remember.”
Neville blushed. “Er, I suppose so. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” said Luna. She waved to a girl wearing the blue hood and silver braid that indicated a law degree. “Hello, Hermione!”
Glad that Luna had found something to distract her, Neville hugged his old schoolmate. “How does it feel to be an Advocate?”
“Good!” said Hermione. “A whole lot better now that I’ve got away from Malfoy. Why he wanted a law degree when I’m sure he isn’t planning to work a day in his life, I don’t know.”
Neville looked across the hall to where Malfoy stood with his smug-looking parents and his simpering girlfriend. “I suppose I ought to congratulate him ... he’s a cousin of sorts...” He was suddenly, painfully aware that he had no one looking out for him in the rows of folding chairs that had been set up to welcome graduates’ families. His few living relatives were either too old or too incapacitated to travel.
He gave the girls a quick glance to see what they thought, but neither of them seemed to have an opinion. He swallowed, and walked across the hall.
“Congratulations, Malfoy.”
“Congratulations, Longbottom.”
That wasn’t so bad, Neville thought, except now they were staring at each other with absolutely nothing else to say. He became conscious that his cap was askew. “Er ... good luck and all that.”
A tall, white-bearded professor appeared, banging his cane against the floor to get the crowd’s attention. “Graduates, get in line,” he said in seventeen different languages. “Families and friends, sit down.”
Relieved, Neville scurried off to join Luna and the rest of his classmates from the Faculty of Natural Sciences.
The first strains of music began, and he watched Hannah and the rest of the Humanities graduates march slowly across the stage, accepting white candles from their supervisors that burst into flame as they took them in their hands. The candidates from the Faculties of Medicine and Law followed, and then it was time for Natural Sciences. Neville prodded Luna, who was absorbed in contemplating a statue of Prince Hamlet of Denmark.
“He really had quite a nice face,” she remarked. “It’s hard to believe he murdered five people.”
The stage that Neville had to cross seemed a mile long. He wondered why he was doing this. It wasn’t as if anyone had come to see him graduate. Even Professor Sprout had sent her regrets; she was at a conference in Botswana.
Professor Gephardt, his thesis supervisor, pressed a candle into his hands. “Go and light the way,” she said in Latin, “for those who will go after, and for those who went before.”
Neville had never quite understood the words of the wizarding graduation ceremony. Lighting the way for those who come after, yes, that made sense if one was going to be a teacher (and Neville was sure by now that he did want to be a teacher, quite badly). But what in the world was he supposed to do, now, for those who had gone before?
He thought of Dumbledore, and Lupin, and Charity Burbage, and even Snape – who certainly wouldn’t have wanted light from Neville, even if Neville had felt capable of giving it. Last of all he thought of his parents, lost in their own sort of darkness, even though they still lived and breathed.
A gust of wind blew through the damp hall and made his candle flicker, but it never, never went out. Slowly, he walked to the edge of the platform where Hermione and Hannah were waiting for him.
For centuries, the University of Wittenberg had housed the only postgraduate programs in magical Europe, so it was traditional for graduates to wear the robes of the school where they had studied until the age of eighteen.
“It’s like plumage,” Luna announced, tugging at the russet hood that identified her as a brand-new Master of Cryptozoology and observing the professors in their colorful robes. “They should do a special dance. There could be a Beauxbatons dance, and a Durmstrang dance, and a Hogwarts dance...”
In spite of his nervousness, Neville laughed.
Hannah Abbot came running up to them. “Now that I’m done with this bloody thesis, I’m never going to do anything with History of Magic for the rest of my life. I’m going to work in a pub or something.”
“A historic one?” Neville asked.
Hannah hit him with her cap.
“That was a mating dance,” Luna commented when Hannah went off to get some water.
“It was?” said Neville.
Luna gave him a penetrating look. “You’re rather bad at recognizing mating dances, Neville. I remember.”
Neville blushed. “Er, I suppose so. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” said Luna. She waved to a girl wearing the blue hood and silver braid that indicated a law degree. “Hello, Hermione!”
Glad that Luna had found something to distract her, Neville hugged his old schoolmate. “How does it feel to be an Advocate?”
“Good!” said Hermione. “A whole lot better now that I’ve got away from Malfoy. Why he wanted a law degree when I’m sure he isn’t planning to work a day in his life, I don’t know.”
Neville looked across the hall to where Malfoy stood with his smug-looking parents and his simpering girlfriend. “I suppose I ought to congratulate him ... he’s a cousin of sorts...” He was suddenly, painfully aware that he had no one looking out for him in the rows of folding chairs that had been set up to welcome graduates’ families. His few living relatives were either too old or too incapacitated to travel.
He gave the girls a quick glance to see what they thought, but neither of them seemed to have an opinion. He swallowed, and walked across the hall.
“Congratulations, Malfoy.”
“Congratulations, Longbottom.”
That wasn’t so bad, Neville thought, except now they were staring at each other with absolutely nothing else to say. He became conscious that his cap was askew. “Er ... good luck and all that.”
A tall, white-bearded professor appeared, banging his cane against the floor to get the crowd’s attention. “Graduates, get in line,” he said in seventeen different languages. “Families and friends, sit down.”
Relieved, Neville scurried off to join Luna and the rest of his classmates from the Faculty of Natural Sciences.
The first strains of music began, and he watched Hannah and the rest of the Humanities graduates march slowly across the stage, accepting white candles from their supervisors that burst into flame as they took them in their hands. The candidates from the Faculties of Medicine and Law followed, and then it was time for Natural Sciences. Neville prodded Luna, who was absorbed in contemplating a statue of Prince Hamlet of Denmark.
“He really had quite a nice face,” she remarked. “It’s hard to believe he murdered five people.”
The stage that Neville had to cross seemed a mile long. He wondered why he was doing this. It wasn’t as if anyone had come to see him graduate. Even Professor Sprout had sent her regrets; she was at a conference in Botswana.
Professor Gephardt, his thesis supervisor, pressed a candle into his hands. “Go and light the way,” she said in Latin, “for those who will go after, and for those who went before.”
Neville had never quite understood the words of the wizarding graduation ceremony. Lighting the way for those who come after, yes, that made sense if one was going to be a teacher (and Neville was sure by now that he did want to be a teacher, quite badly). But what in the world was he supposed to do, now, for those who had gone before?
He thought of Dumbledore, and Lupin, and Charity Burbage, and even Snape – who certainly wouldn’t have wanted light from Neville, even if Neville had felt capable of giving it. Last of all he thought of his parents, lost in their own sort of darkness, even though they still lived and breathed.
A gust of wind blew through the damp hall and made his candle flicker, but it never, never went out. Slowly, he walked to the edge of the platform where Hermione and Hannah were waiting for him.
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And you really do need to write Luna reading Shakespeare. Although, where was Faustus? ;) I suppose he'd be persona non grata in Wittenberg these days.
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Your Luna is perfect. Neville, too, because he would still have doubts even after everything he had accomplished. But I think Luna is so much harder to write, so kudos to you.
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