Chapter 3

Neville looked around as he ducked and stepped out of the fireplace. A moment later his grandmother appeared, brushing soot from her starched dress and large green hat.

"Neville! You are covered in soot! Clean yourself up this instant."

"Yes, Gran," Neville answered, wiping ashes from his face. He ran his fingers through his coarse, dark brown hair, sighing. His grandmother had been particularly harsh with him since he had gotten his O.W.L. results. He remembered what that day had been like...

"Neville!" his grandmother had yelled rather fiercely to him one day after breakfast.

"Yes, Gran?" he had asked, looking up from Magical Plants of the Arctic rather cautiously.

"Well, Neville. We were so happy when we found out that you weren't a squib, but after looking at your O.W.L. results, I'd say that you might as well be one."

"Er...what did I get?" Neville asked apprehensively.

"Do you know what your father got?" she yelled, ignoring his question.

"Yes," he answered, but she either did not hear him or chose not to.

"Three Outstandings, three Excellents, and one Acceptable! And your mother did just as well. What went wrong, Neville? Really?"

"I don't know, Gran. I'm sorry. What did I get? Can you please tell me?"

"A Dreadful in Divination! A Poor in Astronomy! Poor in Care of Magical Creatures! Poor in Transfiguration! That is failing, dear. Failing!"

"Oh," Neville said quietly to himself. "What about my other classes?" he asked.

"Well, you managed to pass four classes. Congratulations," she said coldly. "I'm surprised that they aren't failing you. You received an Acceptable in Charms and Potions, an Excellent in Defense against the Dark Arts, and Outstanding in Herbology. You will be in N.E.W.T. level for all the classes you passed except for Potions. You'll have some other sort of class for that. I received the book list today as well."

Neville reached for the book list in his pocket at the thought of it, and was glad to find it still there. He had happy memories of her though.

"Granny! Owww! Granny! I fell! Granny!"

"Oh, Neville, are you alright? What has happened to you?" Gran asked, looking at his bloody knee with a concerned expression.

"I was trying to fly. I want to be magic, just like you and Uncle Algie. I don't want to be a stupid squib!"

"Neville, what has your uncle been telling you? It's alright if you can't do magic. Now, let's fix up your knee."

Neville now realized that it would not be alright if he could not do magic. He sighed and looked towards his grandmother.

"Come along now, Neville," his grandmother called. He obediently followed behind her, feeling slightly like a trained dog. "First to Florish and Blotts, then we need to get you some new school robes and potion ingredients, and you ruined your dragon hide gloves last year...and you need something new for N.E.W.T. Herbology.

"Yes, some sort of special planter."

"Okay, we'll also need to buy that."

Neville trotted after her, and saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the distance. His mind raced back to his dreams and to the Department of Mysteries. Neville felt that Harry must be horribly sad about Sirius Black's death, although he did not know the entire story. Even with all of Harry's problems, Neville sometimes could not help but feel jealous of him, especially for his friendship with Ron and Hermione.

Neville did not have many friends. Sure, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and the others were nice to him, they were sort of his friends, but he thought that they were probably kind to him more out of pity than because they actually liked him as a person. Nevertheless, he waved to them when he got nearer, and would have talked a bit, but Gran looked sternly at him and said, "Come on, Neville," in a way that made him hurry up a bit.

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