Neville Longbottom stood on platform 9 ¾ looking down at his shoes, trying to hide his shaking hands. Today was the day he was heading to Hogwarts for the first time. Neville had grown up hearing tales of Hogwarts; for as long as he could remember, his Gran told stories about her and his father's time there. Neville knew that his Gran told him these stories in hope that he would turn out more like his father, a war hero, the heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom, a Gryffindor. His father, Frank Longbottom, a courageous and confident man; neither of which Neville was.

A hand being placed on his shoulder broke Neville from his thoughts. Looking up, Neville saw his Gran looking at him with a slight, disappointed frown on her stern face. Neville quickly straightened up his posture and shoved his hands farther down into his robe pockets. His Gran let out a little sigh and shook her head.

"Neville, you know that as the sole heir of the Longbottom family and fortune, you shouldn't be looking at your feet; you need to keep your head held high," she scolded, "And remove your hands from your pockets. I swear, I never had these problems with Frank," she muttered under her breath. Neville was pretty sure he was not supposed to hear that last part. "Go and get on the train, I'll see you at Yule holiday, and I expect a letter by the end of the week." After a quick nod from Neville, Augusta turned and left to floo back to the manor.

Neville took a deep breath, grabbed his trunk, and made his way onto the Hogwarts Express.