Title: Fear Not For I Am
The room was softly lit and filled mostly with rows of metal beds dressed in crisp white linens. Single pillows rested like hats at the head of their metal frames. Drawn back in an accordion fashion, curtains stood like sentinels between each of the empty beds. Silently they watched and waited for the arrival of the sick and injured.
A Medi-Witch placed her hand upon the young man's shoulder. She was similarly crisp and white in her uniform and hat; a pair of red wands embroidered on the latter.
"I am so sorry young man but you really do need to leave now. Your Grandmother is waiting for you in the corridor and not very patiently I might add."
As he looked up into her deep green eyes, panic leaped into his throat causing him to feel suddenly very flushed and clammy.
Running from the room the blur of white turned to grey; fog started swirling about as he reached the corridor…
Feeling his Uncle's hands wrap themselves around his ankles, his head wound up where his feet had been and he was promptly ejected out of an open window. Long gauzy curtains wrapped around his flailing arms as he hurtled into the blinding sunlight.
"Now, now, calm down. Stop wiggling you; it is a test, just a little bit of fun to see what you are really made of!"
His Uncle's voice seemed jovial but fear caused a loud ringing in his ears that almost blocked out all sound.
A woman's voice offered his uncle a slice of pie; was she coming to save him? Sudden release was followed by sheer panic; his insides flip flopped as he began what was now a free-fall. He closed his eyes as tightly as possible as the ground rushed towards him.
…"boy, you there, boy, get hold of that toad or I will have it put into a cauldron and stewed for your lunch. Do you hear me? I will not repeat myself young man. Get that creature of yours and get yourself on that train. I will not be the only Witch left standing with her charge as that train pulls out of the station. "
"Ye,ye,yes Gran." The sheepish boy whispered as he looked up at the stern faced witch.
Her craggy features looked as if they were carved out of a single block of grey granite. Hands thrust firmly upon her hips; she tapped the toe of her high-laced leather boot. The point of the boot caught his attention as a gush of steam engulfed him followed by the sudden blast of the trains whistle.
"Thump, thump, thump, thump." The beating of his heart was so palpable that it seemed as if it had moved all the way up into his throat and was about to burst from his open mouth
"Trevor, Trevor where are you?"
The floor shifted under his feet and the carpeted flooring of the corridor on the Hogwarts Express rushed toward his face, then he saw stars…
"Tre, Tre, Trevor"; the tip of his tongue caught a little trickle of blood as it made its way from the corner of his mouth. The iron taste was all too familiar, he thought. Then the pain set in.
A firm yet inquisitive voice breached his self-absorbed misery. "Are you all right? Here, take this; you have a bit of blood on your chin, did you know? Just there."
A soft white satin hankie dangled from a small hand. He took it readily as he sat upright.
The back and forth rocking of the train caused a bit of a sick feeling in his stomach as he dabbed at the corner of his mouth. Looking at the now stained hanky, the two embroidered letters, "HG", caught his attention.
"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville has lost one. Well if you do, please let us know." The young witch's voice repeated time and again as door after door slammed shut and howls of laughter filtered out into the corridor. Again a feeling of utter distress and loneliness settled in Neville's stomach.
"Oy, you, lard butt, maybe you ate the thing. You will figure it out when you belch it up as we pull into the station." The brash blonde wizard doubled over with laughter at his own attempt at humor.
"Yeah, belch it up," parroted the lump of a figure that sat opposite the young "comic".
Before they could attempt to move on, the door to the compartment slammed in their faces. This one, however, caught the edge of Neville's cloak; one tug and he was down again.
As he lifted his head up, the train lurched forward and then back violently. Many compartment doors slid open, their occupants rushing out into the corridor….
The foggy feeling in his head mingled with murmurs and laughter.
Cool yet fresh air burnt into his lungs as if he had breathed in the fire of a dragon. The darkness that surrounded him gave way to many rushing figures; lamp posts cast a scary play of light upon each and every face, all of which seemed to be laughing, snarling or leering at him.
…A cloak of self-consciousness started to engulf him when, suddenly, a feeling of great pressure upon his shoulder caused him to cast his eyes upward.
A hand the size of a huge ham had his shoulder in its grip. Panic caused him to stutter as a bit of spittle dribbled from his lip and ran down his chin.
"Therz, ther. Is this feller a fren of yers", a mighty yet gentle voice boomed in his ear.
Slowly Neville's vision focused on the grayish green object that had been placed just inches in front of him…
"TREVOR!"
His hand instinctively reached out.
"CROAK"
Sitting in the rocking boat made his stomach once again go jumpy. Leaning over the edge of the small vessel, in an attempt to steady him, only caused more nausea.
"Focus, focus, get a hold of yourself. It's not that bad. Who am I kidding? Yes it is; they are going to know that I don't belong here. I am nothing more than a fraud. They are going to see right through all of this and laugh at me. Maybe they will send me to Azkaban! Even worse, they might send me back to Gran with a letter pinned to my robes…"
"Bones, Susan,,,,,,,,,,,, Granger, Hermione,,,,,,,,,,,,,,Finneg,,,,,,,,,,,Longbrottom, Neville."
"LONGBOTTOM, NEVILLE." The echo was deafening. The pounding in his ears blocked everything out, UNTIL:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Mr. Longbottom, MR. LONGBOTTOM will you please return the sorting hat to the stool, at once?"
The cackling voice scared him to his very core. He looked toward the ceiling just as walking sticks began to pelt him. He stumbled and slipped on them, losing his footing on the stone stairway.
Sitting on the four-poster bed and surrounded by darkness, he was suddenly homesick. The feeling of being utterly alone engulfed him once again. Though he knew that others shared the room with him, he believed that they didn't even notice he existed.
"Croak."
"sssssshhhhhhhhhh, Trevor."
The glow of the Pot Bellied burner in the center of the room cast a bit of light through the heavily draped red curtains that hung from the bedpost.
Placing Trevor on his pillow, he reached into a rucksack that sat on the nightstand next to his bed.
Trying to be as quiet as he could, he held his breath as he rummaged through the bits and bobs that partially filled out the canvas bag. Finally, there it was. His fingertips felt the smooth surface then the fold of the crisp corner. He pulled it out as gently as he could.
The weak light that filtered through the curtain was barely enough for him to make out the beautiful writing on the piece of parchment.
Unfolding the paper, he looked at it as if it were the first time he had ever seen it. This was far from the case as he had read it over and over again; first with doubt, then with an almost giddy humor. Ultimately, humor was replaced by an utter and invasive fear.
Tears streamed down his cheeks and blurred his vision. Nonetheless, he strained to see clearly enough to read what he already knew by heart….
"Dear Mr. Longbottom,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall"