Neville Longbottom and the Boy Who Lived

Chapter 8 - Life at Hogwarts

The rest of the Sorting was a blur. Four more students were sorted into Gryffindor after Neville, and the largest cheer of the evening was given to Harry Potter. The hat took some time to decide with him. When it had finally sorted Harry, the delight at Neville's table couldn't have been more if Merlin himself had joined their ranks. Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil joined Neville, Harry, Hermione, Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnigan as first-year Gryffindors.

When the hat and stool were put away, Headmaster Dumbledore stood. He looked across the Great Hall, and greeted his charges. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" And with that he sat back down.

Neville's jaw dropped open. He could remember meeting the headmaster several years before at his granddad's funeral. Albus Dumbledore had given him his most prized possession, his father's book. But although he looked like the kind, gentle man he had met that day, something was different. This man was nutters. And Neville wasn't alone thinking this.

"Is he - a bit mad?" Harry asked Percy.

"Mad?" was Percy's reply. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes."

Neville suppressed a chuckle. He heard a loud clap from the head table and immediately the platters filled with food of every shape and sort. Neville had never seen a feast like this before. He couldn't remember a day where he'd gone to bed hungry, and recalled several celebrations and birthdays, but nothing compared to the repast now set before him. He piled many helpings of his favorite foods onto his plate, and ate contentedly.

The meal was over all too soon. During dinner, they met the ghost of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, or as Ron's twin brothers called him, Nearly Headless Nick. When Seamus asked how it was possible to be nearly headless, the entire table witnessed the demonstration. Neville dropped his fork he was so spooked.

All the first years except Hermione, who was too busy talking to Percy about classes, and Harry, who remained eerily quiet on the subject, started to introduce themselves. Neville was worried. He tried to think about how much he should tell of his familial situation. Maybe if I pretend my parents don't exist, people won't ask what happened to them. Before he knew it, it was his turn and Ron turned to him innocently, "What about you, Neville?"

"Well," Neville started. I'll tell how I grew up and leave them out of it. Sorry, Mum. Sorry, Dad. "My gran brought me up and she's a witch, but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages." Stupid. Why did I say family. Ooh. Talk about Algie and Enid. They're family. "My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me - he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned." Among other things. "But nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he 'accidentally' let go. But I bounced - all they way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased." Relieved was more like it. "Gran was crying she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here - they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased, he bought me my toad."

Neville quickly turned to the black boy seated next to him, "You, Dean?" Whew! I hope I don't have to watch everything I say that closely. As the group introduced themselves to each other, the remaining bits of dinner disappeared to be replaced by desert. Neville had a spot of pudding as he listened to Dean talk about his Muggle parents. Parvati wondered why her twin sister, Padma, had been sorted into Ravenclaw. Lavender talked about her pets, especially her favorite rabbit. Harry made some quick mention of living with Muggles, and Hermione broke away from her conversation with Percy to quickly tell the group her parents were dentists. Then it came round to Ron.

"Well," he started. "I'm the sixth child of seven, and the youngest boy. I have a sister a year behind. You all have met Percy, right? He's the fifth-year Prefect. And those two gits who look alike are two years behind Percy. They're a bit off, and they love their jokes, so be careful when you're around them. Bill and Charlie, my other brothers, left Hogwarts a while ago. They don't spend much time at home any more. Bill's in Egypt and Charlie's in Romania."

Neville could not imagine anything better then the family Ron described. He started to think about his mum and dad, and how many brothers or sisters he might have had if they had never been cursed. And as he thought about it, his eyes began to water, and a single tear fell.

Lavender noticed. "Are you all right, Neville?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got something in my eye is all."

Before Lavender could press the issue, Dumbledore stood and everyone became quiet.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Professor Dumbledore looked at the Gryffindor table, past the first years, and to Ron's twin brothers, each trying on a different 'Who, me?' expression. Neville swore he could here one whistling quietly.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors." Neville looked over at Mr. Filch. The man looked as if he hadn't shaved in about three days, and he was holding a long-haired tabby cat with red eyes. Neville made a mental note to avoid the caretaker at all costs.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term," Dumbledore continued. "Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch." Considering it was a sport played on brooms, in the air, Neville felt he could safely avoid the witch at the end of the table with the eyes of a hawk.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." Harry was one of only a couple of people in the hall who laughed. Neville failed to see what was so funny about dying, and particularly dying painfully.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Neville looked around. He didn't know any school song. But as he worried about it, the words to the song began to form in the air from smoke which was issuing from the headmaster's wand. "Everyone pick their favorite tune, " Dumbledore continued, "and off we go!"

Neville couldn't remember the last time he had sung, so he decided to sing to the tune of "Here We Come A-Wassailing." He'd sung it at Christmas time and he supposed he'd at least get the notes right, even if it didn't match the words. He finished singing in about half the time it took the Weasley twins, who appeared to be intent on dragging the song out as long as possible. When at last it was done, Dumbledore dismissed the hall, and Neville and his fellow first-years lined up behind Percy.

They marched up a marble staircase, and through several hidden doorways in columns of two. Neville was so taken with all of the portraits lining the corridors, he was unable to keep track of where they were going. He didn't look forward until a walking stick flew past him and hit the wall. He looked where it came from, and could only see a bundle of similar sticks floating in the air.

Percy turned to his charges. "Peeves, a poltergeist." Percy straightened up officiously and addressed the bundle of sticks. "Peeves - show yourself." The response from the sticks was a noise that sounded like a person blowing a raspberry. Neville thought it was quite rude. Percy spoke again. "Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

With a pop, the poltergeist became visible, and it was clear he was the one holding the canes. "Oooooooh!" he exclaimed. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!" He dove at the group causing them to duck in fear. Neville tried to hide behind the taller Ron.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it." Percy sounded like he did on the train when he'd scared away Crabbe and Goyle.

The poltergeist completed one more circuit of the room. Something about Neville made Peeves giggle, and as he passed above the students, he dropped his entire bundle on to Neville's head. Percy and Ron helped Neville back to his feet. "You want to watch out for Peeves," Percy told him. "The Bloody Baron is the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects." For the second time in the same day, Neville was glad he had met Percy.

The prefect led the students down another corridor, and stopped in front of a portrait of a fat woman wearing a pink dress. "Here we are," Percy said.

"Password?" the Pink Lady asked.

"Caput Draconis," Percy replied. The portrait swung to one side revealing a round hole. Neville was helped into the hole, and once on the other side, found himself in a large room with a fireplace, comfortable armchairs, and more corners then he ever thought were possible in a room. Percy pointed the girls up one staircase and the boys up another, but before Neville could proceed, Percy stopped him.

When the other first year students were out of the room, Percy started talking. "Professor Dumbledore told me you normally take a potion on Sunday nights. But the headmaster asked me to tell you, it won't be available until tomorrow. After dinner tomorrow, I will take you to the infirmary, and you can get what you need. If I can help with something tonight, wake me up. The fifth year dormitory is four floors below yours." Percy smiled at the boy. "Now go on up to the top floor and get some sleep."

"Thank you, Percy," Neville said, and up the stairs he raced. By the time he reached his room, the other boys were climbing into bed. Neville changed quickly into his pajamas and climbed into his four-poster. He released the curtains shutting out the rest of the world, and quickly fell asleep.

*****

He was standing in a room. He was frozen in place, and the only thing he could move was his eyes. He saw his mother lying on a bed, and his father standing above her. Both were in their hospital gowns. He looked to the left and saw four people in dark hooded robes start towards his parents. He tried to scream a warning, but no sound came out. The four pulled wands, and shot spells at the helpless couple. He couldn't hear the screaming, but could see his mum and dad were in agony. Then the screaming stopped, and he could hear again.

Two of the people reached up and removed their hoods. The ugly visages of Crabbe and Goyle stared back at him. While the other two robed figures hung back, the two youths approached the boy.

"What are you going to do now, Squib? Who's going to save you? Why don't you save us all the trouble and cry now. Go on. Cry!"

The boy held firm refusing to give in to the two bullies. Then a third figure removed her hood. It was her.

"I know a way to make him cry. Watch this. Crucio!"

But before the spell could hit him, he woke up.

*****

Neville jerked awake. As he had several times over the previous month, he was sweating profusely and was even a little sore from his tossing and turning. He peeked outside the curtains that hung from his four-poster to find dawn was indeed creeping over the landscape. Knowing a return to sleep was a near impossibility, Neville quietly got out of bed.

He didn't realize it the night before, but his clothes had been put away. He pulled out his book bag and started placing the items he would need for the day into it. The schedule for the first week was light for the new students, presumably to give them a chance to find their way around the castle. On this the first day, the only two classes they had were double Herbology, and History of Magic. He put his copies of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and A History of Magic into his bag along with several quills, an inkwell and parchment. He also put his father's book into his bag. Why not? It's a book about plants, he thought.

Neville looked back into his trunk. He desperately didn't want to forget anything on the first day of class, and he had something that would let him know if he was missing anything. He searched his trunk, and went through the wardrobe. He searched all the pockets of his trousers and robes. He reached inside his shoes, but found nothing but the lint from his socks. Nope, Neville had forgotten his Remembrall. Even now he could see it still sitting on top of his desk at home.

Neville changed into his robes and went downstairs. Due to the early hour, the common room was deserted, and he sat down in one of the plush chairs by the fire. He took out his special book and opened the cover. He looked into the picture of his granddad and Professor Dumbledore and his gramps smiled at him.

"Gramps, I don't know if I can do this," Neville said.

"Child, it is time you started to trust yourself." The picture seemed to appraise Neville. "Ah, good. You were sorted into Gryffindor. Just like your father and I were. You remember what the Sorting Hat said about Gryffindor?"

Neville nodded. "It said they were brave, daring and chivalrous. But am I really those things?"

"Child, if you can't trust yourself, trust the hat. That hat probes into the deepest recesses of your mind before it makes a decision. If it put you in Gryffindor, it was certain you would be able to succeed there."

"All right, Gramps. I'll remember that. I..."

"Neville, who are you talking to?"

Neville turned over his shoulder to see Percy Weasley at the foot of the stairs. The picture of his granddad gave him a knowing wink, and Neville quickly closed the book.

"Um, myself. I was reading out loud from my book."

Percy looked at him trying to gauge his truthfulness. "Very well. What are you doing up so early? Did you have a problem last night?"

"Sort of. But it wasn't a big deal and when it happened it was morning anyway. So I thought I'd come down here. That's all right, isn't it?"

"Fine, fine. This is your common room, and as long as you follow normal curfew hours, you can be in here whenever you like."

Neville felt much better. "Percy, can you help me with something?" The older boy nodded. "I need to send an owl to Gran. Can you show me where to go?"

"Of course, Neville. That's what I'm here for. Let me get my bag together and we'll stop by the Owlery before breakfast."

Neville hurriedly wrote a note to his gran telling her he arrived safely, and asking if she would please send him his Remembrall. He finished by telling her he'd write a proper letter soon. By the time he was finished, Percy had come back and he and his new friend the prefect were heading out the portrait hole.

*****

Neville sat down to dinner on Thursday night, going over the week's classes in his head. He had enjoyed himself in Professor Sprout's Herbology lesson. His time in the back garden had given him a head start on the rest of his year. Even Hermione, who knew technical terms from the book, didn't have the practical ability Neville had shown. He had also been pleased to see Justin and Hannah, his friends from Hufflepuff, in the class.

But after lunch that day things had been much different. Professor Binns' History of Magic class had put nearly everyone to sleep. In fact the only person who could stay with the teacher's lecture was Hermione. Even the Ravenclaws they took the class with, had struggled with the ghost's lecture style, and they were supposed to be the cleverest of students.

On Tuesday, Neville had got his first taste of both Charms and Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick had been full of energy even when calling out the roll. His voice had perked up when he mentioned Neville's name, and he'd toppled off his chair when he'd called out "Harry Potter."

Neville had noticed how Harry attracted a distant crowd without even trying. Just as his father had said in his letter, people were treating Harry differently, apparently because of his fame. Harry did nothing to encourage it, and even looked dismayed at times because of the attention. Neville was both sympathetic to Harry and jealous of him at the same time. But as much as Neville might crave the overnight popularity Harry had amassed, the attention would have been disconcerting. At his Transfiguration lesson, Professor McGonagall had borne no such outward distinction for Harry. Neville was right in assuming she was not one to be crossed.

His first introduction to Defense Against the Dark Arts seemed more of a joke than a class. Professor Quirrell looked afraid of his own shadow, and when Seamus asked about his exploits, the professor very quickly changed the subject. Professor Sinistra's Astronomy class had the downside of taking place at midnight, when most eleven and twelve year olds were fast asleep.

Friday morning was the class Neville was dreading. He had only gotten a few long-range looks at Professor Snape at various meals, and was not anxious to meet him up close and personal. And to make it worse, it was the only class where Gryffindor was paired with Slytherin.

Neville got down to the dungeons early by following Hermione. She hadn't been at the castle any longer than the rest of the students, but she already seemed to know her way around as if she had lived there for years. They settled into their desks and pulled out their supplies. The minutes leading up to the beginning of class ticked away, and then some. Three minutes after the class was supposed to start, a cloaked figure burst through the door, giving all the students a fright.

Professor Snape immediately set about intimidating the class, and when it came to Neville, he succeeded in spades. The way he looked at each student after he called their name from the roll, the way he glowered at Harry who had the temerity to be in his class, the calling them "dunderheads" before he could even see if any of them had the slightest natural ability, was all too much for Neville to handle. Even in his worst moments he had always been treated fairly. But now the potions master was showing Neville how unfair life could be.

Professor Snape antagonized Harry with questions only Hermione, who had memorized all of her first-year texts, would have been able to answer. Snape continued to bully Harry until he shot back a snide remark which allowed the teacher to take a point away from Gryffindor house. Finally achieving his goal, the teacher settled into his lecture, and paired up the students to work on the day's assignment, a medicinal potion for boils. Neville was teamed with Seamus.

Seamus set his cauldron over the flame and Neville began adding ingredients. Professor Snape didn't so much walk around the students as swoop down upon them. Neville paid more attention to the whereabouts of his teacher then he did his potion. Snape didn't stray too far away as he constantly looked to criticize Harry and Ron who were working further down the same table.

"No, Neville! We have to stew the horned slugs, not just boil them," said Seamus who was trying his best to work even with the distracted and scared Neville as his partner. "You start sorting the porcupine quills. I'll let you know when to add them."

Neville nodded and reached into his box of potions ingredients. He counted out twelve whole quills and set them to the side when Professor Snape's voice rang out from three tables down.

"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy. Five points for Slytherin for perfectly stewing your slugs."

Neville couldn't believe the favoritism. Slytherin gets five points for someone doing what they were supposed to and we get docked a point because Harry is provoked by the teacher. This isn't fair, Neville thought. He was so upset he picked up the quills and threw them in the cauldron.

"What are you doing?" cried Seamus. "Quick! Get them out! Get them out!" But even as Neville and Seamus tried to spoon out the quills, the cauldron began to twist. The liquid was bubbling wildly, the bottom glowed red, and then holes began to appear. Seamus jumped out of the way, but Neville was firmly in the path of the liquid and it drenched him as the cauldron gave way completely.

Neville was already upset and apologizing to Seamus when the pain began. He looked at his hands to see boils start to form, small at first, but quickly growing to where they made it difficult to move his hands. Snape took the opportunity to get his insults in.

"Idiot boy! I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville couldn't answer the question. He couldn't even see anymore as boils started to grow on his face and forced his eyes closed. The teacher told Seamus to take Neville to the hospital wing, and as they were leaving, he could hear Snape take another point away from Harry and Gryffindor.

When they reached the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey had Neville disrobe down to his undergarments and applied a salve to the boils on his hands and face. She sent Seamus to fetch new robes for Neville, and put the soiled robes into a bag for the house-elves to deal with. By the time Seamus returned, Neville could see again, and the pain had subsided.

"I'm sorry, Seamus," Neville started. "I have an extra cauldron you can have, and if it's not good enough I'll send a note to my grandmother to get you a new one.

"It's all right, mate," Seamus replied. "You know, it was sort of funny. At least until you started breaking out in boils."

When the pain was gone, and the boils shrunk, the two students made their way to their next class.

*****

"Flying lessons," Dean exclaimed. "Isn't that brilliant? We get to start flying on Thursday."

The thought made Neville's stomach ache. "Uh, yeah Dean. That's brilliant," he said. It seemed everyone in Neville's year was anxious to begin. Everyone, that is, except Hermione Granger. Hermione's fear of flying almost equaled Neville's. The fact the cleverest person in his year had the same phobia as Neville made him feel much better about himself.

But not any better about flying. Both Ron and Seamus continued to go on about the joys of flight. Neither Harry or Dean had ever been on a broom, having been raised by Muggles.

"So, Neville. You must have flown before, right? I mean you were raised in the wizarding world." Dean's friendly question deserved a response, but Neville didn't want his previous flying attempt known.

"Uh, no. I've never been on a broomstick before. Gran was always afraid I would hurt myself, and prohibited Great-Uncle Algie from showing me how. She never even kept a broom in the house." That answer seemed to satisfy Neville's roommates, and Harry commented about how wise Neville's grandmother must be.

*****

Neville received a reprieve from worrying about his airborne doom when the post arrived during lunch on Thursday. A small box dropped from a barn owl, and although he was confident of its contents he was still excited when he opened it.

"It's a Remembrall," he said to the small crowd of Gryffindors gathered around. "Gran knows I forget things - this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do." He was the center of attention, everyone interested in what he was saying, and the small object he alone had at school. "Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red - oh...you've forgotten something."

The surrounding students were caught between amazement at the small glass marble, and laughter at Neville's expense. Neville didn't notice the snickers as he was concentrating so hard on what he had forgotten. Nor did he notice the Slytherin trio coming from behind. Before he knew it, Draco Malfoy, the self-appointed leader of Crabbe and Goyle, had grabbed the Remembrall from Neville's hand.

Ron and Harry had had problems with Draco before, and they were itching for a chance to put Malfoy in his place. But before things had a chance to get out of hand, Professor McGonagall intervened.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Draco dropped the ball and mumbled a half-hearted excuse for an apology as he quickly fled McGonagall's presence. The rest of the students dispersed as well, leaving Neville alone with the Gryffindor matriarch.

"Can I assume you are prepared for my class, or do you need to get something from your dormitory?" asked the Professor.

"No, Professor. I have everything for your class." Neville slid his Remembrall into the pocket of his robe.

"Good. Walk with me to class, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville stood up from the table and shouldered his bag. Teacher and student headed out of the Great Hall and headed towards the Transfiguration classroom.

"Mr. Longbottom, I am concerned about your having a Remembrall at school. Many times in the past these items have been used unscrupulously by their owners. If you are going to keep it here, I must ask you not to use it in class, and I must warn you using it on a test can get you expelled."

"I won't, Professor. I'll keep it in my trunk and not bring it to class. Well, after today."

"Good. Now I'd like to talk to you about your parents." Neville cringed. "No one needs to know about them if you don't want to tell them. That's your choice. But your grandmother has asked you be allowed to visit them at least once a month."

"I'd like that, Professor," Neville jumped in.

"Good. Then on the last Sunday of every month, come to my office at two in the afternoon. You will be allowed to Floo directly to St. Mungo's and return an hour later. I must ask you keep quiet about this arrangement. This is a special consideration granted by Professor Dumbledore, and others might consider this preferential treatment. We don't want to have to explain the reason to everyone, do we?"

Neville shook his head, the fewer people who knew about his parents' condition the better.

*****

When McGonagall dismissed the Transfiguration class, Neville and the other Gryffindors headed for the Quidditch pitch, where the flying lessons would take place. Neville's fear rose with every step. The only memory in his mind was of the fateful day in the meadow with Algie, and the howler that had ensued that evening.

When they reached the pitch, Neville found twenty brooms lined up in two neat rows. He also found the Slytherin first-years already claiming brooms. Madam Hooch also arrived and sent everyone to stand beside a broomstick. She gave the students the same instructions that Algie had given Neville, and many students, including Harry, had their brooms jump into their hands instantly.

Neville's, however, didn't move an inch. Neville looked around and found Hermione's had refused to jump as well. She looked at him, clearly embarrassed by the fact she hadn't succeeded, and Neville gave her a weak smile showing her she wasn't alone. On her fifth calling of the broom, it finally acceded to her wishes. Neville was the only one not holding his broom. He shut out every memory and focused on the picture of his grandfather. Make a connection between your heart and mind. "Up!" he called, and the broom was in his hand.

Madam Hooch went on. "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly." Neville was determined to do it this time. He was focusing on the connection that had caused the broom to jump to his hand. "On my whistle." Neville straddled the broom. "Three." Neville flexed his knees. "Two." Neville pushed off having anticipated the count of "one."

The broom shot into the air as Neville had hoped. For an instant he was in control, but when he opened his eyes, and saw himself hanging ten feet in the air, his fear consumed him. Like it had in his lesson with Algie, the broom reacted to his fear, and the magical connection he had created amplified the broom's reaction beyond Neville's control.

The broom shot upward, and soon it had risen over twenty-five feet in the air. Neville's palms were so sweaty he couldn't hold onto the handle, and once again, he slipped off the back end of the broom. Not again, he thought as he plummeted back to earth and landed in a heap.