I don't own Harry Potter, or just about anything else. I do have pants though.

A/N Re-posted due to technical difficulties. A few errors have been corrected by my wonderful beta Erfa, though nothing too important

Chapter 1 Welcome Home

Neville stepped through the barrier at Platform 9 ¾ and into the muggle train station. He looked for his grandmother. Seeing no immediate sign of her he started to pace about platforms nine and ten. She's late again, Neville thought to himself. As he made his way though the crowd, he waved goodbye to Dean Thomas whose father was helping him put his trunk onto a cart. He caught a glimpse of the Potter/Weasley/Granger party, but decided to avoid it as it seemed to have a few too many members and they were all gathered around a rather purple man. He still hadn't spotted Gran. Where could she be?

The train had pulled into the station over a half-hour ago, and he still hadn't found her. 15 minutes and then I'll take the bus. He sat on his trunk and waited impatiently, watching the people go by and checking his watch every 30 seconds or so. The muggles that passed through the train station were all very interesting to Neville, but as he got more and more frustrated, the small amount of entertainment he got from them was vanishing.

He had left the train nearly an hour ago and was now thoroughly annoyed. He got up from his position on his trunk and grabbed hold of the cart handles. He wheeled it around and walked out of the station. He made his way to a nearby alley so as not to draw unwanted attention when he stuck out his left hand, and a violent purple triple-decker bus appeared out of nowhere. Neville boarded the bus, listening politely to a young man by the name of Stan tell him the various prices. He chose the cheapest way and gave Stan his destination. He then set about the task of digging through his trunk for the money. He came up with the last of his birthday money and handed over all but two knuts. Stan gave his thanks and paused for Neville to supply his name. When he gave it, Stan shot him a funny look, but as Neville had just turned around to take a seat he didn't pursue the topic any further.

There were six people who were getting off before Neville so the trip took a considerable amount of time. By the time the bus reached his home he had fallen asleep in his chair. Neville walked up to the house and stumbled into the entryway. He awkwardly dropped his trunk off to his side.

"Gran!" he shouted, heading up the stairs. "What are you doing home?" shouted a voice to his right. He turned and walked into the living room to find its owner. His grandmother was sitting in her rocking chair doing a crossword. "School let out today," he said calmly. "You were supposed to pick me up at the train station." "No. That's on the calendar for tomorrow," she said simply. "Well then, I'm home a day early I guess," his tone now a bit short. "Don't you get snippy with me!" she said angrily. Not wanting a row right now as he was extremely tired he simply gave her a defeated "I'm sorry," and turned to leave. "At least now we can go tomorrow instead of having to wait," she said to his retreating back.

He didn't even ask what she meant. He didn't have to. They were going to the hospital, where they always go. He started to ascend the stairs to his bedroom when her voice rang out again.

"Don't you dare leave that old trunk laying in my hallway either."

He trudged back down and grabbed his trunk. The trek up stairs was more difficult than it should have been due to his extreme desire to be asleep, and by the end he had dropped the trunk on his foot more than once.

Neville walked into his room shoving his trunk to the side for the moment. He flopped down on his bed, smiling contentedly now that he was back in his sanctuary.

Neville fell asleep quickly, and was woken up earlier than he would have liked on his first day home by his grandmother shouting up the stairs. "Neville!" He opened his bleary eyes, only to be bombarded with light, and shut them tight again. He hid his head beneath the pillow but could still hear her loud and clear. "Get up this instant! You need to make yourself look presentable!" He often wondered if it was a spell so that he couldn't say that he didn't hear her tell him to do something.

"Why? They don't even know its me." he grumbled under his breath. He knew he was exaggerating, but it was six in the morning, and no one could blame him for being a bit disgruntled.

Neville fell out of bed and onto the floor. He got to his feet, tripping on the blanket that had fallen to the floor with him. He sent the blanket a dirty look as though it had done it on purpose and set off for his bathroom.

He would stay in his room all summer if his grandmother would allow it. Of course she wouldn't. He had a fairly large room on the second floor of the house. The house wasn't spectacular by any means, but it was fairly large especially since it was just the two of them. His room was on the other side of the house from Gran's. She slept in the master bedroom downstairs. That was part of the reason that he liked it here, a decent distance form her.

He was showered, dressed, and ready to go well inside of twenty minutes. He was just heading down stairs, when his grandmother's voice filled the hallway once again." Are you even out of bed yet you lazy child?"

Neville shook his head as he walked down the last few steps to face her. "No Gran. I decided to have a bit of a lie in just to annoy you," he was speaking very quietly, but the old woman seemed to hear him just fine.

"I ought to slap that smart mouth of yours right off!" Her eyes always seem about twice as large when she's scolding me, Neville mused. "If your father had ever heard you speak like that." Neville didn't listen to what exactly his father would have done. He had heard it all before. It had something to do with how much respect his father had had for insects or something equally as ludicrous. Instead he went over the contents of the greenhouse shelves in his head.

The lecture ended, and they eventually made their way up to the hospital. Gran stopped every few feet to speak to random members of the staff, who she knew on a first name basis, due to her frequent visits over the last 15 years. Neville followed behind her, smiling whenever he felt that the conversations had turned toward him. It must have been enough because Gran's eyes stayed their normal size until they reached the closed ward.

"Your father is talking to you young man. I think that you need a lesson in respect. This man." the lecture went on, and Neville went a little pink when one of the nurses sent him a sympathetic look. He cursed that reaction, but like his immense lack of coordination, it was something that he just couldn't help. He just got flustered too easy when people notice something like his grandmother's rant.

She eventually got distracted, and her target switched from him to the nurse. Apparently his grandmother was under the belief that the sheets on her son's bed hadn't been changed since she was last here, which was entirely possible considering she had been here only three days ago. He sent the nurse a sympathetic look and she grinned a bit, causing the woman who was scolding her to make a rather harsh comment about her level of intelligence if she thought that the conversation warranted such a giddy look.

Neville slipped away from Gran's overbearing presence, and made his way towards his parents' corner of the ward. He gave a simple greeting and took up a chair next to his mother's bed.

"Hello my beautiful baby," she said in a sweet little voice. A sad smile crossed Neville's face as she greeted the vase sitting next to her bed.

"I had a really interesting school year, Mom." Neville often compared it to talking to a chatty brick wall, but it made him feel better to talk to his parents. He told her all about his fifth year at Hogwarts, while she sat quietly rocking back and forth, staring at him as though she hadn't the faintest idea as to what he was talking about, or quite possibly what he was.

"I can't imagine what it was like for the others. It was weird enough for me, and I could see the thestrials," Neville was deeply immersed in his tale, and didn't notice his grandmother walk up behind him. She put her hand on his shoulder, and he jumped. When he turned around he was met with one of the sharpest looks he had ever seen his grandmother display, which was saying something.

"Just because she can't fully comprehend what you are saying, Neville, it does not give you the right to story to your parents," her voice was very soft, and it looked as though her lips refused to open properly. Her eyes kept darting around as though she was checking to see if anyone had seen her grandson committing this atrocious act.

"I wasn't 'storying' to her!" Neville cried, his disdain for the phrase showing in his voice. "I was telling her about my school year, because she actually listens to me!" Well that's more than I had planed on telling her. Neville steeled himself for the coming onslaught, but it never came. He looked up to find that Gran had gone to talk to the doctor who had just entered the ward.

Neville slumped back into his chair, and held his head in his hands. He ignored the world for a moment, though it was difficult with Lockhart ranting on something in a shrill voice at the other end of the ward. Neville drew his head up when he felt a soft touch against his knee, and looked up into the sparkling eyes of the woman who gave him life. She smiled sweetly and took his hand, leaving in it a wrapper from a piece of Droobles Blowing Gum.

"At least you're on my side," Neville said/sniffed/chuckled. She got up and began drawing on the tiny window with her nose.

"We need to go now," Gran said shortly. Neville got up and said goodbye to his mother who was swaying in rhythm to nonexistent music, and then to his father who writing in his journal.

"Did I spell this right child?"

Neville looked over his father's shoulder at the chicken scratch that filled the page of the leather bound book, "I think so. I have to go home now, Dad. I'll see you later, okay?" He didn't get a response though, as Mr. Longbottom had his nose once again buried deep in the journal, tongue between his teeth in concentration.

Neville followed his grandmother silently back through the hospital, and flewed home. He ascended the stairs, not even bothering to listen in on the flew call that his grandmother was making, which he would have more than likely done if his short day hadn't worn him out so. He fell onto his bed and sighed, fully intent on not moving for the rest of the summer.

A/N My second story! Part of it at least. I have an idea as to where this is going, but it may take a few chapters to get there. I hope you like it. I find myself growing quite fond of reviews. So if you want to be nice to me!