Platform 9 ¾
Neville stood facing the rusted brick pillar between platforms 9 and 10. His back was straight, his head held high, and his face, though still rather boyish, had a sense of darkness lingering in his brows. These last few years had affected him to his very core; Dumbledore's Army, the death of the old headmaster, and the return of He-who-must-not-be-named were only a summary of his experiences at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His thoughts began to wander through Gryffindor Tower, the games of chess, the parties after having won Quidditch tournaments…
How many friends would he see back this year? Certainly not Harry, Ron, or Hermione. His friends of Muggle lineage would have to be completely insane to even step foot in London this year. How many teachers would still be present? Neville's thoughts remained upon this last question and as he mulled it over he came to the conclusion that even though most of his professors would be loathe to return to the castle for this season, his seventh and final year, that they would show up anyway for, if no better reason, to protect the students and that which they loved and lived for: Hogwarts.
An impatient sigh sounded from his right and Neville looked down upon his grandmother, Augusta, with a sudden smile and flame of eternal love and gratitude erupted in the depths of his eyes.
"Neville," she said looking up his tall frame to face him, "You take care of yourself this year, you hear? Don't let anyone tell you what is right and wrong. You know the truth in your heart. Stand up for what is right! It's what your parents would have done."
Neville gave a sad, sort of somber nod, kissed his grandmother on the cheek, narrowly avoiding her large vulture hat, and said in reply only, "I will, Gran."
He turned to face the pillar again. Settling his hands upon the trolley holding his trunk he began to push it as a sense of deep anxiety filled the very depths of his stomach.
"Wait, Neville!" cried his grandmother as she stooped down to pick something off of the floor, "You're leaving Trevor behind again!" Neville gave a chuckle and slipped the old frog into his pocket, "Thanks, Gran," he whispered.
The pillar was growing in size as Neville came charging at it, almost breaking into a run and then, he was through.