Neville awoke to his grandmother's voice. "Neville, wake up. We need to get
to Diagon Alley early. You know that I can't abide crowds!"
"It's practically still dark," mumbled Neville.
"What's that?" asked his grandmother.
"Yes Gran. I'll be down shortly."
"All right. Don't take too long but be sure that you look decent. Appearances are very important you know. Even if you're only shopping for schoolbooks. Very important. Wear those nice new robes that your uncle gave you."
"Yes Gran. I'll be down shortly," Neville repeated, with a trace of a sigh. He knew that his grandmother cared for him but he wished that she were more like his classmates' parents. Of course, she was a generation older, but still he could wish. While he was wishing, he wished that his parents were more normal. Then he thought of Harry and felt bad for complaining, even if it was only in his thoughts. Harry's relatives didn't care for him at all. Neville suddenly felt that he was lucky to have a grandmother that cared for him, even if she had a hard time showing it.
He climbed out of bed, pulling on a pair of dark green slippers. The floor of his large bedroom was chilly, even in the middle of August. He quickly dressed in the dark red robes that his Great Uncle Algie had sent him. He felt rather silly wearing them, as they were really dress robes, but he knew better than to argue with his grandmother. They weren't really especially different from school robes anyway; the color was the main variation. He brushed his hair and put on a pair of shoes, and then walked down the stairs and into the sunny dining room.
"Here is your breakfast, Neville," said his grandmother briskly, as she set a glass of milk and a plate of whole grain toast and fruit in front of him. "I have already eaten. Eat quickly, you know that I hate crowds."
"Thank you, Gran," Neville said as he began to shovel the food into his mouth.
"Eat politely. When I said quickly I did not mean for you to put your manners to the wind."
"Sorry, Gran," said Neville. He tried to please his grandmother by combining polite eating and speed eating, but he wasn't sure that it worked. She looked at him rather sternly from across the table. He suddenly realized that in his haste he had dropped a piece of toast-buttered side down on his robes. So that was what the look was for.
"Now look what you've done. Scourgify!" she cried as she pointed her wand at Neville's robes.
"I'm sorry, Gran," Neville said meekly.
"It's alright. Now go and brush your teeth and get your school list. I'll take care of the dishes," said Neville's grandmother with a hint of exasperation in her voice.
Neville hurried up the steep stairs, cursing his clumsiness for the thousandth time. A few minutes later, he rushed down the stairs.
"Do you have your supply list?" asked his grandmother.
"Umm...no. Sorry, I'll just nip upstairs really quickly and get it," Neville said hastily as his grandmother tsked.
Neville scurried up the stairs again, this time cursing his forgetfulness. "How can I ever be good at anything if all I ever do is break and forget things?" he thought angrily. "Why me? Is it not bad enough that my parents are insane? Do I have to be a horrible wizard, too? A horrible everything, actually." He grabbed his supply list and raced down the stairs, this time tripping over his own feet and falling down the stairs.
"Are you alright, Neville? You're a good deal clumsier today than I've seen you be in years!" exclaimed Neville's grandmother.
"I'm fine. My mind was wandering. Sorry," Neville said, apologizing for the umpteenth time that day.
"Well be careful. You could have really injured yourself and you know that I'm no mediwizard." She took an elaborate jar from the mantel and looked at Neville. "Are you ready to go?" she asked him.
"Yes, Gran," answered Neville, taking a pinch of Floo powder. He threw it into the crackling fire and stepped in. "Diagon Alley," he said clearly, and he soon found himself in London's secret wizarding community.
"It's practically still dark," mumbled Neville.
"What's that?" asked his grandmother.
"Yes Gran. I'll be down shortly."
"All right. Don't take too long but be sure that you look decent. Appearances are very important you know. Even if you're only shopping for schoolbooks. Very important. Wear those nice new robes that your uncle gave you."
"Yes Gran. I'll be down shortly," Neville repeated, with a trace of a sigh. He knew that his grandmother cared for him but he wished that she were more like his classmates' parents. Of course, she was a generation older, but still he could wish. While he was wishing, he wished that his parents were more normal. Then he thought of Harry and felt bad for complaining, even if it was only in his thoughts. Harry's relatives didn't care for him at all. Neville suddenly felt that he was lucky to have a grandmother that cared for him, even if she had a hard time showing it.
He climbed out of bed, pulling on a pair of dark green slippers. The floor of his large bedroom was chilly, even in the middle of August. He quickly dressed in the dark red robes that his Great Uncle Algie had sent him. He felt rather silly wearing them, as they were really dress robes, but he knew better than to argue with his grandmother. They weren't really especially different from school robes anyway; the color was the main variation. He brushed his hair and put on a pair of shoes, and then walked down the stairs and into the sunny dining room.
"Here is your breakfast, Neville," said his grandmother briskly, as she set a glass of milk and a plate of whole grain toast and fruit in front of him. "I have already eaten. Eat quickly, you know that I hate crowds."
"Thank you, Gran," Neville said as he began to shovel the food into his mouth.
"Eat politely. When I said quickly I did not mean for you to put your manners to the wind."
"Sorry, Gran," said Neville. He tried to please his grandmother by combining polite eating and speed eating, but he wasn't sure that it worked. She looked at him rather sternly from across the table. He suddenly realized that in his haste he had dropped a piece of toast-buttered side down on his robes. So that was what the look was for.
"Now look what you've done. Scourgify!" she cried as she pointed her wand at Neville's robes.
"I'm sorry, Gran," Neville said meekly.
"It's alright. Now go and brush your teeth and get your school list. I'll take care of the dishes," said Neville's grandmother with a hint of exasperation in her voice.
Neville hurried up the steep stairs, cursing his clumsiness for the thousandth time. A few minutes later, he rushed down the stairs.
"Do you have your supply list?" asked his grandmother.
"Umm...no. Sorry, I'll just nip upstairs really quickly and get it," Neville said hastily as his grandmother tsked.
Neville scurried up the stairs again, this time cursing his forgetfulness. "How can I ever be good at anything if all I ever do is break and forget things?" he thought angrily. "Why me? Is it not bad enough that my parents are insane? Do I have to be a horrible wizard, too? A horrible everything, actually." He grabbed his supply list and raced down the stairs, this time tripping over his own feet and falling down the stairs.
"Are you alright, Neville? You're a good deal clumsier today than I've seen you be in years!" exclaimed Neville's grandmother.
"I'm fine. My mind was wandering. Sorry," Neville said, apologizing for the umpteenth time that day.
"Well be careful. You could have really injured yourself and you know that I'm no mediwizard." She took an elaborate jar from the mantel and looked at Neville. "Are you ready to go?" she asked him.
"Yes, Gran," answered Neville, taking a pinch of Floo powder. He threw it into the crackling fire and stepped in. "Diagon Alley," he said clearly, and he soon found himself in London's secret wizarding community.