Neville Longbottom sat on his trunk on Platform 9 ¾, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. So far, not very many students had arrived yet, but it was rather early still. He had arrived early so that he could find an empty compartment without running into too many people along the way. He wasn't quite sure if he was ready to face his new classmates.
He had thought briefly about transferring schools, but ultimately decided against it. He couldn't run away from what he'd done, nor did he want to. He wanted those who knew him to look at him with scorn, not be accepted by a group of strangers who had no idea what he had done. So let them stare and judge. Nothing they said or did could compare to the wretchedness he felt inside.
He had spent the better part of the year before at St. Mungo's, missing out on most of his sixth year. Even long after his physical scars had vanished (all except for the scar on his face that he kept as a reminder of what he'd done), they had kept him so he could heal inside. He didn't understand why they bothered. He could never go back to being the person he was before. He had killed 15 of his classmates, and there was no going back from that. What made things worse was that at times he had actually enjoyed it. And it was all unnecessary. All the time, there had been a way to escape. And even if there hadn't been, he shouldn't have killed them. He didn't deserve to live.
He wondered how long it would take for the train to arrive, and whether anyone would care if he threw himself in front of it or not.
"Neville?"
Neville looked up to see a smiling Luna Lovegood, who walked over to him. Even though he would rather be left alone to his thoughts, he supposed that he'd have to face his classmates eventually. And since they were in the same year now, he might as well get it over with.
"Hi, Luna."
She dragged her trunk over next to his and sat down. "You're rather early," she observed.
He shrugged. "I didn't want to run into anyone."
She raised an eyebrow. "Because of last year?" A melancholic look flashed across Neville's face, and she sighed. "It wasn't your fault, and blaming yourself won't bring them back."
He shrugged, a faraway look in his eyes. "It didn't have to happen."
"Maybe not, but no matter how bad you feel, nothing will change."
He didn't say anything, choosing to look at the big clock instead.
She contemplated him for a few seconds, then looked toward the clock as well. "I'm not going to lie to you." He turned to her, and she continued. "It won't be easy. Some people won't have forgiven you, while others will avoid you out of fear. Some will pity you, and some will understand. Others just won't know how to act around you." She glanced at him. "If it happened to us again this year, would you protect me?"
"It won't happen again."
"I know. But would you?"
He nodded. "I'd find a way out for all of us."
She looked toward the big clock. A few seconds later, she turned back to him. "Do you want to take a walk or something? Get some fresh air?"
He nodded, and they stood up. "Are you sure we should just leave our stuff? It might get stolen."
She shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to trust that people will do the right thing, right?"
"Yeah..."
Leaving their belongings behind, they left Platform 9 ¾ to go back into the Muggle part of King's Cross station.
When they returned, more students had entered the platform. Some of them were gathered into small groups, talking excitedly with friends they hadn't seen all summer long, while others were saying their yearly good-byes to their families. The Hogwarts Express was waiting for students to board.
Luna turned to Neville. "Things are starting to look busy now, huh?"
They walked towards their belongings. "Thirty-nine students are missing," he said numbly, casting a spell to lighten his trunk. He followed suit with Luna's trunk as well. He was 17 now, thus allowed to use magic outside of school. Dragging their considerably lighter trunks behind them, they walked to the train.
Before they could get there, a voice called out to Luna from behind them. They turned around, and Ginny Weasley came running up to them. One of her older brothers trailed behind her.
Ginny's face tightened as she looked to Neville, then she turned back to Luna. "Did you hear? That bitch Julia Carpenter... You know, the one who was always taking your stuff? I heard she's been expelled!" She glanced at Neville, then pulled Luna aside to continue their conversation.
Neville looked to them, then turned back to get on the train.
"Wait!" a voice called out from behind him. Neville turned around, and Ginny's older brother approached him. "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Charlie. The first survivor."
Neville's eye widened. He didn't know what to say.
Charlie continued. "I tried to visit you at St. Mungo's, but was told that you refused any visitors." He shrugged. "Can't really blame you. I felt like that at first, too."
Neville looked to the side, still unsure of what to say.
"I would say that it'll get easier over time, but that would be a lie. I still have nightmares from time to time." He sighed.
Neville looked to him. "So how do you cope?"
Charlie smiled. "I refuse to give up. If I just mope around and feel sorry for myself, or dwell on what might have been, then they would win. Instead, I fight." He paused. "Have you ever given any thought to what you'll be doing after you leave school?"
Neville shrugged. "I had thought about becoming a Healer, or an Auror, but..." He shook his head. "I don't know anymore."
Charlie put a hand on his shoulder. "You can always work with dragons. If you want to, that is. Even if you don't want to fight, we're more than willing to help you in any way we can." He removed his hand and looked to Ginny. "I should probably go before she comes back. I don't think she wants me talking to you." He looked back to Neville. "Keep in touch. I mean it. And don't be so hard on yourself. Nobody's ever really gone so long as you don't give up."
Neville's eyes widened, and the other boy left to meet up with his sister, who was holding a one-sided conversation with a bored looking Luna. As he watched the other boy leave, he felt rather confused about what had just transpired. But at the same time, it felt as though the heavy burden he carried with him was starting to lift.
Dragging his trunk behind him, he boarded the train.
September 1 -- 6:26 p.m.
The train ride back to Hogwarts had gone a lot smoother than Neville thought it would. As always, the incoming first years ran up and down the aisles, much to the chagrin of the Prefects, who were trying their hardest to maintain some semblance of order. Luna had somehow lost Ginny in the crowd to join with Neville, along with another boy who he hadn't known. Neville felt ashamed at his previous beliefs about Slytherins when he learned that Adrian Grant, the boy who shared a compartment with them, was from that house.
But he had yet to face his own housemates. True, he had seen Ginny back at the station, but she avoided him, and he avoided her. When he had entered the Great Hall, it had surprised him to see how empty the tables looked. The rock he had felt in his stomach was back, although he vowed not to let it get to him. That did nothing to abate the nervousness he felt as he walked to the Gryffindor table. What if all of his housemates treated him the same way Ginny had? It might be better to avoid them for now.
So there he sat, at the far end of the table where the seventh years should be seated. If only things had been different, then they would all be with him, grumbling about how hungry they were as they waited for the first years to enter and be sorted. But he remembered what Charlie had told him earlier, and tried not to dwell on it.
"Nobody's ever really gone so long as you don't give up."
Maybe... what Charlie said was true. After all, he had survived as well, so he would know what he was talking about.
Somebody sat down across from him, and he looked up, surprised.
"You really should sit with the rest of us," Colin Creevey said. "Some of the others might act like jerks, but not all of us think that way."
Neville shook his head. "I-- This is where I belong."
Colin quirked an eyebrow. "Isolated?"
"No. This is where the seventh years should be. Where they would be if it weren't... Even if they're gone, I'll still sit by them."
Colin nodded in understanding. "Mind if I join you guys as well?"
Before Neville could answer, the door to the Great Hall opened, and Professor McGonagall walked in with the first years in tow. Neville remembered how last year she had looked grim. In retrospect, he realized that the professors must have known beforehand about how his class was chosen to participate in that sick program. The unexplained absences, the looks on the faces of those that had remained, Dumbledore's speech... The professors had known.
He watched the staff table as the Sorting Hat debuted its new song. Just like it had last year and in fifth year, it sang about how the houses needed to unite. Neville had never given its songs much thought before, but now he paid the hat rapt attention.
The song finished, and the first years were called up to be sorted. He ignored the rumbling of his stomach as he watched the line slowly dwindle until the final student became a Ravenclaw.
The feast began, and students hungrily piled their plates high with food. Time passed, and gradually the noise of the Great Hall rose as the students finished their meals and began conversing with one another. Once the last student had finished eating and the food disappeared off the tables, Dumbledore stood up, and the hall fell silent.
"I'm sure you first years have noticed the large number of empty seats at the tables where the seventh years should be," he said. "More than anything else, I wish that they could be here to join us." He took a deep breath and continued. "But they're not. Last year, their class had been chosen by the Ministry to engage in a fight to the death."
There were a few murmurs from the first years.
"There are various appeals to have that law overturned, and I hope that someday, one of those appeals will succeed. I don't ever want to give a speech like this again, and I'm sure that nobody else would either. Until then, we must always remember those who had fallen, and not give up. Now, then, we have a few start-of-term notices to go over--"
Neville tuned out the rest of Dumbledore's speech, which was the same warnings about the forbidden forest being forbidden, and what items had made Filch's list of contraband. Soon, the students were dismissed, and he slowly walked out the Great Hall, thinking. No matter whether those around him forgave him, or treated him like a pariah, he wouldn't give up. Because if he did, only then would everyone truly be gone.
July 30, 1999 -- 11:33 p.m.
Neville leaned against the wall with a smile on his face as he surveyed the rest of the room. The others were laughing and drinking, celebrating the downfall of Voldemort. He was sure that wizards and witches all over the world were celebrating as well. If the fireworks he had seen earlier at Diagon Alley were any indication, they were.
That wasn't why he was smiling, though. Although it was a good reason, the piece of paper he held in his hand was the cause. He held it up as he caught Charlie Weasley's eye. Curious, the other man approached.
"A real cause to celebrate," Neville said as he was joined by his fellow Dragon. After leaving school, he had taken him up on his offer to join them. He handed him the paper.
Charlie's eyes widened as he read it, the smile on his face broadening. "It's over..." he said in a hushed tone. He turned to the rest of the room, who were still partying. "Can I have your attention, everyone?" he called out. Slowly, people turned to him. "I think our little party will have to go on longer than we thought, because I just got news that one of the appeals to overturn Program 12 has finally been successful! It's over!"
A mighty cheer resounded through the room. Someone set off some fireworks.
"Hey!" Charlie shouted. "I know you're excited, but do that outside! Outside!" He went off to admonish them.
Neville shook his head, laughing. Although the program's demise came too late for his classmates, or those of the Brazilian girl and Australian boy who came after him, at least nobody else would be subjected to the horror of Program 12.
Wherever they were, he was sure that the fallen were celebrating as well.
He peeled himself from the wall to join with the celebrations. Even though there were still many injustices within the Ministry, they wouldn't give up. Never.
Once again, "1 student remaining."
But that's really just a matter of perspective.