"Neville Longbottom, wake up this instant!"
Neville heard a sharp voice from the doorway, then felt light penetrate his eyelids as the thick curtains shielding his room from the sun were pulled back. It was his grandmother.
"Up, boy, up! Stop being so lazy!" She snapped, staring angrily at Neville, who was lying groggily in bed.
Groaning softly, Neville climbed out of his warm, comfortable bed. He was a normal boy of eleven, with a round, slightly pudgy face and short brown hair, which was slightly rumpled from sleep. The only remarkable thing about him was the faint lightning scar on his forehead, the mark of a deadly curse that had rebounded off him years ago.
Neville padded softly down the hall of his grandmother's dusty old house, prepared for the relentless scolding he received every morning. Neville did love his grandmother, but she was quite a finicky woman, and constantly complained about Neville's mediocre appearance. He cautiously pushed open the kitchen door, not knowing what his grandmother would be angry about that day.
"There you are Neville, eat up, eat up. You should have been down here minutes ago, what did you do, crawl? Your Great Uncle Algie has come down with spattergroit again, but not to worry, your aunt and uncle will still be here for your birthday tonight. Make sure you wear something smart for them."
Neville merely nodded. Unlike most boys of his age, he did not look forward to his birthday. Neville did not have any friends to invite to a party, given that his grandmother refused any activities of which young boys are most fond, and certainly would not have agreed to host a party for them. Even Neville's own parents would not be present, for they had been tragically killed the night Neville had survived. He did not remember them, but often longed for them, and imagined the life he could have had, had they not been killed.
Neville spent his birthday puttering around the garden, attempting to finish all the work his grandmother had assigned to him before company came. At last she called him inside, yelled for quite a few minutes, then sent him upstairs to clean up, for he was quite covered in dirt. Neville did so, hurrying as he heard the sound of voices downstairs that meant his aunt and uncle had arrived through the fireplace. He took extra care to wear something without any wrinkles, and to brush his hair carefully, for he knew not even a birthday was enough of an excuse to stop his grandmother's harsh comments.
"Happy birthday, Neville," his aunt and uncle called as Neville walked slowly down the stairs, being careful not to thump. He thanked them heartily, and led them into the dining room, where his grandmother stood waiting, to eat.
The table had been set quite neatly for four people, with a spotless white tablecloth, sparkling silverware, and quite a few candles floating over the table. Neville was quite appreciative of his grandmother's efforts, and sat quietly, knowing she was going to speak.
"Today," she paused for dramatic effect, looking around the candlelit room, "is Neville's eleventh birthday. He has survived these many lovely yet trying years due to his parents, who-who-who…." Neville looked up, stunned and confused. He had not been listening to his grandmother quite as attentively as he was supposed to, for he knew this speech by heart. Neville was quite bewildered, for his grandmother had never forgotten a single word of her dramatic monologue before this evening.
The question in Neville's mind was answered as he followed his grandmother's wide-eyed gaze to the window, where an owl was coming closer and closer. Neville jumped up, anticipating what the letter was about, and opened the window clumsily, the latch slipping through his sweaty, nervous fingers. A magnificent tawny owl soared inside, then paused in a dignified manner as Neville hastily untied the letter attached to its foot, fumbling slightly with the tight knots. The owl then ruffled its long yellow feathers and flew off once more into the darkening sky. Neville turned the letter over to see the Hogwarts crest, a symbol he had always dreamed and hoped of finding on a letter come his eleventh birthday, embossed upon it.
Neville tore open the letter immediately, ignoring the unimpressed sniff from his grandmother for his undignified behavior, and drew out the crisp, cream colored paper inside. He read it quickly, his eyes skimming the writing-filled page in moments.
"I've been accepted," he said breathlessly, "to Hogwarts!" Excitement filled Neville's body. At last, he would be meeting other boys his age, and making friends! He would finally get to spend time as a normal boy, rather than a constantly-chastised one.
Words of congratulations filled Neville's ears, but did not penetrate the wall of excitement building in his head. He would not be lonely much longer! Finally, his life as a wizard would truly begin.
All thoughts of speechmaking forgotten, the four people returned to their dinner, though the conversation was much less tense than before. Neville's grandmother openly praised her grandson, forgetful and clumsy though he may be. Neville was slightly surprised by this change of events, and found himself blushing. Neville's aunt and uncle reminisced of their years at Hogwarts, telling entertaining stories about some of the teachers and lessons they had taken. Neville was fascinated by these tales, for they made him even more eager to experience the freedoms and joys of Hogwarts for himself.
Long last, after much eating and drinking all around, Neville was permitted to open his birthday presents. He received a spectacular wooden wizards chess set from his aunt and uncle ("I'll teach you to play later," his uncle promised), a striped sweater and a musty old book from his grandmother, and best of all, a very small vivid green frog from his uncle Algie. His grandmother pursed her lips at the sight of the new and surely messy animal, but refrained from complaining. Neville looked up, thrilled. "Blimey, th-thank you!" he said, emotional and overcome slightly by the spectacular events of that evening.
His grandmother and aunt began waving their wands and corralling the tableware toward the kitchen. Neville could hear the glasses and plates clanging and scraping against one another as they made their way into the kitchen. His uncle winked and told Neville to fetch up his new chess set, showing him how to arrange all the intricately carved little pieces on the board.
For the next ten minutes, they played. The silence was broken only by the erratic shouting of angry chessmen, attempting to influence the game so they would not be eliminated. Neville had been quite surprised the first time a piece yelled at him, for it had cursed quite loudly while being dragged off the board. His uncle had laughed at the shocked and bewildered expression upon Neville's face, and explained the queer attitudes of wizards' chessmen.
Not fifteen minutes later, Neville's uncle looked up, slightly disappointed, and said "Checkmate." He appeared reluctant to do so, as though he sincerely wished Neville had done better. Neville tried to grin good-naturedly, though secretly upset that he had not impressed his uncle.
"Never mind boy, never mind," he said, patronizing his nephew. Neville, however, could feel the judgment in his eyes, and the disappointment at his lack of apparent intelligence. Neville began to worry, for his uncle was clearly dissatisfied. What if he was not smart enough to go to Hogwarts? Neville sat sprawled in a large, stiff chair, brooding this, until his aunt returned from the now-quiet kitchen and announced it was time to leave. Neville gave each of his relatives a hug goodbye, attempting to put wordless apologies for the abysmal game into his uncle's embrace. He then trudged slowly up the stairs as his grandmother fetched their cloaks and fussed.
Neville lay on his bed, worrying whether or not he was ready to attend the most prestigious magic school after such a disappointing show of intelligence. He could hear his grandmother, aunt, and uncle exchanging last goodbyes, as was quite tempted to creep partially down the stairs, and attempt to listen to their conversation. Neville was quite curious whether or not they might perhaps be discussing him, and his future. However, he was quite nervous about being caught, for his grandmother despised sneaking around. Neville also though it might, perhaps, be better not to know. He did not want his relatives' opinions to tarnish his fantastic visions of his future at Hogwarts.
At last, Neville drifted off to sleep. Though filled with doubt, he thought only of the fantastic experiences he was sure to find waiting at Hogwarts. Perhaps, had Neville expected how fantastical they might be, he would not have wanted to go at all.