Treeline.
It was different, the way the trees shifted in the wind. As if they were defying the directions they were given. Neville was sure he was seeing things, that his eyes were playing tricks on him. He stood on the hill, the all too familiar hill, that faced the forbidden forest. How many times in his life had he stood there, watching the forest? There was a glint, something shiny making its way through the brush he was sure of it. If only he could get closer…
“Professor Longbottom?” A quiet voice distracted him, a second year stood just behind him, bundled up as their eyes followed the rows of his garden.
“Ah yes?” He cleared his throat, the pull of the forest disappearing.
“McGonagall sent me to ask if the pumpkins were ready for the feast tonight. The kitchens need them.”
“Ah right, let her know they’ll be sent down.” The student nodded before taking off back toward the corridors. Neville took another glance back to the forest, noting nothing out of place this time. Perhaps it had all been in his head.