With Neville and Moody Practicing Counter-Curses

Neville looked slightly pained as Moody asked him to think up a curse for you.
‘C’mon, son.’ Moody encouraged, sounding slightly impatient.
‘D-don’t wanna hurt y’er.’ Neville said in a small voice. Moody grunted, grimacing to himself. You smiled at him, slightly nervous that his spell might backfire somehow.
‘It’s fine, Nev.’ Neville began to raise his wand, and you squeezed your eyes shut, tensing up.
‘Floscircum!’
You heard a small fizz. It sounded as though nothing had happened; it certainly felt that way, too. As you opened your eyes, Neville started down at your feet, nervously. You look to Moody, worried he was going to tell him off. But Moody was looking at your feet as well. You powered down at them yourself; a dozen small flowers were sprouting up through the concrete beneath your feet, blue, pink and yellow ones, tickling your ankles. Even grass had started to appear, but only within ten centimetres of your feet. Then Moody spoke again.
‘I said curse, boy, that’s barely-‘ Moody was silenced by a distant crashing sound from out in the corridor.
‘Ruddy Finnegan; keep practicing. I want to see her head o’pside down when she walks back into the classru’m Mr Longbottom!’ Neville didn’t reply, but kept staring down at your feet. Moody hobbled out of the room, grunting and gasping. You breathed a sigh of relief at his disappearance.
‘Pr’uf’es’or Sprout tells me ye’ have an aptitude for Herb’alag’ee.’ You croaked, imitating Moody as best you could. You waited for Neville to laugh, or even smile, but he didn’t. Your expression dropped. Worried, you reached out an arm to try and comfort him, but he retreated quickly. He took one quick glance at your face, and then left quickly. Your eyes stayed fixed on the door, but Neville had left.

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