Neville Longbottom lay in bed, his round face scrunched up. He prayed, "Please come today, I'll do anything, anything, just come already."
"Neville!"
Neville stopped his concentrated wishing, blinked, and called back, "Coming, Gran," dressing quickly. Could it be today?
Over the last two weeks, Neville's anxiety had been increasing exponentially. His eleventh birthday was fast approaching, which also meant Hogwarts letters. Everyone knew that Hogwarts began issuing the letters after Midsummer's Day. A magically inept boy, Neville knew that his chance of acceptance was slim and worried that they would simply pass over him.

"Has the post come yet?" Neville shuffled downstairs and tripped over the last step with a yelp. An elderly lady in the kitchen walked briskly to him, tutting as she helped him up.
Three owls flew in. The largest promptly tossed a letter onto a table in the kitchen and hopped to a perch, by which hovered a dish of owl treats. He selected one and flew off. The smallest, a screech owl, neatly deposited an ivory envelope on top of the others, hooted importantly, and flew away as a business-like barn owl waited quietly with the morning newspaper in one talon and a little pouch of coins tied to the other.
Gran (for that was the elderly lady) noted the envelope and walked over to inspect it, ignoring the barn owl, which was now tapping its talon impatiently. Neville quickly paid the owl. It seemed relieved to go. Looking to Gran, he saw that she had frozen upon picking up the envelope.

"Gran?" Slowly, she smiled. Neville took the envelope from her with bated breath. He glimpsed a "Mr. N. Longbottom" in green lettering as he turned it over, revealing the purple seal.
"Congratulations, Neville."
There was no mistaking the letter and its purpose. Neville almost whooped. He forgot about breakfast entirely and dashed back to his room so quickly that he might have Apparated.
Back in his room, Neville's eager eyes drank in the Hogwarts coat of arms. It looked so official. He pinched himself and laughed. To think that he'd been afraid of ending up a Squib! He opened it while taking care not to leave unsightly rips, put his nose to his letter, his very own Hogwarts acceptance letter, and inhaled. So this was what freedom and acknowledgement smelled like.
"Mum and Dad would be so proud," he thought, feeling very warm inside.

That is not to say that Neville was usually an unhappy child—rather, one might say he lacked something. He felt it deep down, and usually attributed it to being inept.
Though Gran was often strict with Neville, he knew it was only because she cared. She was never horrible to him but whenever he didn't meet her expectations, which was very often, she didn't hide her disappointment. Other little witches and wizards revealed magical ability by things like changing their hair color or levitating small objects fairly early, by five or six at the latest. Neville hadn't displayed any trace of magic until age eight, and that was only because Great Uncle Algie accidentally dropped Neville from an upstairs window. Neville had bounced like a large piece of rubber and proved that he wasn't a Squib after all. Beside that time, however, Neville was simply a clumsy and forgetful boy with an almost uncanny knack for creating public embarrassments. Proud Gran struggled to deal with her grandson's shortcomings.

Neville went back downstairs with shining eyes. He shyly handed Gran the letter and envelope.
"I think I want to save the envelope." She understood.
"But first, breakfast!" She rapped him smartly on the head with her wand and he sat down to eat.

Right after breakfast, Great Auntie Enid visited with Gran, who was quick to inform her of Neville's Hogwarts letter.
"Our Neville. Who's all but a Muggle. He was accepted into Hogwarts? My dear Augusta, if I didn't know you any better I'd ask you to stop pulling my leg." Enid was incredulous to say the least.
"Neville is a Longbottom, just as his parents were. Why should you be surprised?" Gran drew herself up, exuding a do-not-question-me aura.
"Well, I must tell Algernon immediately, he'll want to know." Enid Disapparated with a bright pop!

Gran flicked her wand and a large roll of parchment flew over. A couple of jabbing motions and it opened and divided itself into small, separate sheets. "Just letting you know Neville received his Hogwarts letter. Augusta." Her words appeared on each sheet. She gathered up the sheets neatly and turned to Neville.
"I'm off to Owl Post. I'll be back in a bit."

That whole afternoon, owls flew in and out of the Longbottom dwelling. Some brought short notes like "I told you so" from bossy cousins while others carried pompous letters of expecting great things from encouraging but stuffy great-aunts. A while after the storm of feathers had cleared, an old, harried-looking eagle owl, bore a medium-sized box with a lot of holes poked in it. Neville opened it and and took out a note.

Words can't describe how pleased I was to hear that you've got yourself accepted to Hogwarts. I knew you could do it.
I'm nowhere near as verbose as your Great Aunt Enid can get to be, but I just had to get you a present as a token of congratulations.
Love,
Your Great Uncle Algie

Neville glanced into the box again with curiosity and spotted a grumpy-looking toad. It suddenly leaped out of the box and Neville barely caught it. There was another note where the toad had been sitting. It read:

P.S. – I know you've always wanted a little pet, although perhaps not desperately. Why don't you bring him to Hogwarts with you?

Neville grinned. "Great Uncle Algie sent me a toad!"
Gran eyed the brownish lump warily. "Hm."

"Right. We need to go to Diagon Alley to get your books anyway, so we'll stop by the Magical Menagerie to ask about toads. The shops close in a few hours, I believe." Gran checked the clock. "Ready, Neville?"
In response, he plopped the toad back in the box, carried to the fireplace, and handed Gran a little notepad labeled, "Floo Paper" that had been sitting on the mantelpiece. She tore off half a sheet, put the rest in her handbag, and tossed the half-sheet into the fire, which flared a brilliant hue of green. Grasping hands firmly, they shouted, "Diagon Alley!" and stepped in.