Part III

[Time Frame]: At Algie Longbottom's place, early evening.

Neville took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. He imagined that his uncle was either dining or lounging about this time. It was nearly 7 o'clock. He prayed that Gran would forget about him. He'd grudgingly gone down to supper at five, but after that, retreated to his attic room and stayed there, without another word, ever since. Hopefully, she'd give him some space and not come to investigate.

With a groan, Neville rang the doorbell once more and accompanied it with a hammering fist upon the oak door. He heard the scuttling of feet behind the massive thing, along with whispers from what sounded like a young girl. The maid?, Neville hoped. Thankfully, it was a maid that opened the door a moment later and ushered Neville into the house quickly, heavily knocking the door after him.

"Mr. Neville, your uncle has been expecting you," she whispered, taking off his coat and smoothing his wrinkled dress shirt. Neville drew away from her, rolling up the sleeves of the shirt and un-tucking it, just to be rebellious. "Why's he expecting me? I sent no word of my arrival," he said in reply, wandering around the entry hall, looking at the pictures of Algie and his various wives. The maid, looking distressed at Neville's appearance, didn't answer the question. Instead, she came closer and licked a finger, brushing down the boy's hair with her saliva. Neville jumped away and messed up his hair with a smirk. The girl finally gave up with a sigh and said, "Your uncle has his ways, my dear. He's up in his study, if you would be so kind as to go up there."

Neville nodded and smiled at her, as if that would make amends for his behavior, and hurried up the stairs, with his shoes still on. He wasn't completely cured of the new-found attitude quite yet.

The door to Algie's study was, as usual, wide open. Privacy wasn't a need with him. He kept no secrets, and anyone who wished to know his business could. Of course, this meant that he figured everyone else's business should be his. Perhaps that's how he found out about my problem, by asking prying questions, thought Neville as he bounded up the last step and approached the door.

A knock on the open door or a peek into the room was not necessary. Algie Longbottom rushed out of the door and approached his nephew with open arms. "My dear Neville!" he exclaimed, and just as the poor child was pulled into the embrace, he noticed something was awry. His uncle's brow was wrinkled up, like he'd been thinking deeply about something. That was all wrong. Algie never thought! He lived life purely on instinct. It was apparent to Neville that something was troubling him greatly.

"Ah, dear nephew, won't you please come and sit down? I'll get you a glass of punch, yes, or a crumpet." Neville was maneuvered into the room and pushed into a rather comfy black armchair. While his scatterbrained uncle prepared the treats, quills scribbled letters or quick notes on the desk. A feather duster cleaned the window-sills and panes, music was playing somewhere behind him, and various important witches and wizards mulled about in the black and white photographs hanging all over the beige walls.

Algie delivered the crumpet and cup of punch to Neville and sat himself down on a spindly chair opposite the latter. He was munching on his own crumpet and looking around his study with an air of worry when his nephew asked, "Is there something wrong, uncle?"

The man smiled. "No, my boy, there's nothing out of the ordinary going on, if that's what you mean. But, you see, I've been thinking…" He trailed off, and Neville tried not to laugh. There's a shock, he thought to himself, but then he stopped the rudeness and flushed. He'd never acted this way before, and he must never do it again. Longbottoms were dignified people, and he must act as such.

Algie cleared his throat. "Well, I've actually been thinking about you, Neville, and your education. Seeing as your Grandmother pulled you out of term early and isn't planning on sending you back at all, I was wondering if you'd be rather interested in coming here. I could get you tutors, and you'd be able to study here! By Jove, I think we'd make up for your lack of learning this summer, and b y fall, you wouldn't need to return to Hogwarts at all. What do you say?"

Neville was speechless. Uncle Algie was offering to spend his money on what had originally thought of as a Squib! He wanted Neville to come to his glorious house and learn all he possibly could to make up for lost time. It was touching to see that he was truly cared about by this man, but no, Neville could not accept.

"Actually, uncle, I came here this evening to ask you…" Algie held up a hand to stop any further comments. "I know why you came, my dear boy. You want to go back to Hogwarts in the fall, and your Grandmother won't hear of it. Am I right?" Neville was speechless. "How did you know?" he asked in bewilderment.

"It's fairly obvious," his uncle replied. "You're not too hard to read, Neville. But the reason I'm offering you such a prize is because it's preposterous to send you back to that school, and I refuse to go behind that woman's back and send you there. It's for your own good that we keep you under our noses, at least for the time being. Now, what do you say, boy?"

Neville fumed. His uncle was only thinking of himself, wasn't he? The man didn't want Gran all over him when Neville was sent back to the blessed school. They were trying to control him, that's what, and the only way how they were to do so was if they kept him within reach.

"I'm afraid, Uncle Algie, that I'll have to refuse your offer. I'm sorry, but this isn't the life for me, being cooped up and caged like a common songbird. No, I've plans for my life, thank you. Furthermore, since you're obviously not going to consent to my plea, there's no reason to stay here another minute. Good day, uncle."

Neville placed the cup and untouched crumpet on the desk and walked out of the study, honestly feeling lighter in step. He was leaving Gran's this evening, and he'd go off and find his friends. Maybe he wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts, but he'd find a way to do something on his own, one way or another.

He ignored Algie's cries and the maid's warnings as he grabbed his jacket from the hanger and stormed out the front door. The air was light, and the stars were shining brightly ahead of him. He apparated back to Gran's house and began to pack immediately. First stop would be Ron's place. He knew Mrs. Weasley would help him out. She was everyone's mother, and no matter what you asked of her, she did her best to assist you. Neville knew she'd understand. She always did.

Hope this satisfies for now. I plan on adding the next part real soon :).