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Chapter 2

"We should put on our robes, I think we're almost at Hogwarts," Hermione said. Neville had been staring out the window for quite a while now, watching the landscapes go by as if it were one of those slide shows from a vacation. He had just now noticed that it had grown dark.

"Oh, right," he said, jerking from his state. He began to stand up, but before he could, three others came into their compartment: a blond-haired boy, with two others that were big, bulky, and looked like they could beat up an elephant.

"You must be Longbottom. Neville, right?" the blond said. Neville nodded. "Well, isn't that interesting." The blond boy laughed and immediately, his two bodyguards starting laughing too, oblivious to what was funny. Neville shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Where was this conversation going? The blond boy held his hand out. "Draco, Draco Malfoy." Draco smiled at Neville and his eyes flickered to Hermione.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said. Draco looked as if he was trying to recognize the name and then the phase was gone.

"Pureblood or halfblood?" he asked. Hermione looked startled and surprised at the question, as was Neville. Who asked this when they first met someone?

"Neither, my parents are both Muggles," she replied. The side of Draco's mouth drew up in a smirk.

"Why is the great Neville Longbottom hanging around a silly Mudblood when he could be with me?" Draco asked, hand still set out.

Neville didn't know what to say. He felt his heart beat a little faster. If he ignored Draco, it might turn out badly. He didn't feel like getting beaten to a bloody pulp today. Yet if he ignored Hermione, he'd hurt her feelings, and he didn't feel like being an egotistical jerk today either.

"I...I just... er..." his face grew warm. Draco withdrew is hand.

"Not much of a hero, are we?" he asked, "But I suppose it's not all your fault. You probably got dropped on the head when your mother was being killed." The two others laughed. "Crabbe, Goyle..." Draco looked at them oddly, "Shut up." And there was no more laughter from them.

Neville's eyes grew wide, his palms sweaty. He felt so mad at Draco! How dare he say something like that! How could anyone be so mean? He stood there, frozen.

"Let's go." Draco left the compartment, obviously bored with Hermione and Neville.

Hermione just looked at Neville. "We should get on our robes..." she said.

Soon the train came to a stop. Neville opened the compartment door, still unsure about what had happened earlier with Draco. He followed Hermione and the others off the train. A giant man was calling out to them.

"Firs' years! Firs' years ov'r to me!" the man called.

Neville walked meekly over to the man, next to Hermione who was grinning broadly. Neville looked back at the older students and saw carriages... carriages pulled by things that looked like demons.

"D-do you see those?" Neville asked, tapping Hermione and pointing to the demon-horses. She smiled.

"Oh yes, those are the carriages that take the other students up to the castle. I read all about it in 'Hogwarts, A History'. Although, they didn't say anything about how they were floating like that; I suppose it's just magic, of course!" she said all of this very fast and Neville wasn't sure she was breathing the whole time.

"No, not the carriages! Those!" he said, jabbing his finger towards the things. Hermione just rose one eyebrow toward her hairline.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Neville, let's just go." She tugged him along after the other first years, his eyes being forced to peel away from the horses. He wanted to stare at them all day; they looked so – what was the word for it? – dark. Their skin was so tight you could see their ribs... and their eyes. Oh, their eyes...

Neville got into a boat with Hermione, the two boys they had met earlier – Harry and Ron, and a brown-haired boy that had a cowlick. The giant man had to have a boat to himself. As they approached the castle, Neville gaped at it.

Each window was glowing with a bright and cheery light, and there were thousands of windows. It was so tall and so old; it looked like a Haunted House from a child's fairy tale. It was horrid and terrifying, yet oddly comforting and welcoming. Neville couldn't shake away the feeling that he would like the place a lot.

They got up to the castle, the big man leading them inside. Neville walked beside the man, and saw something sticking from one of his many pockets. It looked like a package with the numbers "1476" written on it.

"What's that?" he asked. The big man looked down and almost jumped in horror.

"It's nothin', don' worry 'bout it," he protested, hiding the package deeper into his pocket. Neville thought this was suspicious, but shook his head, deciding it probably wasn't any of his business.

The man opened the giant doors – even more giant than he – and they stepped inside. He led them to two more doors and told them to wait for further instructions.

Soon after, a woman with her black haired pulled into a tight bun came in front of the doors.

"Welcome, first years," she greeted with a tight-lipped smile. Neville heard a small croak and saw a flash of green by her feet.

"Trevor!" he exclaimed, pushing through the small crowd and grabbing his toad. The woman looked at him sternly and the other kids laughed.

"S-sorry..." he murmured, patting his toad and placing him in his pocket. He felt his face grow hot as he walked to the back of the group, trying not to be noticed. He had embarrassed himself enough already, he didn't need to anymore.

"I am Professor McGonagall, and I welcome you all to your first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When you walk through these double doors, you will be at your sorting to see which house you are in. Be ready, and good luck." She gave them another one of her smiles.

Ron leaned over to Harry: "Fred and George told me we have to wrestle a troll.." he said, swallowing hard.

Neville felt himself grow nervous. Wrestle a troll? He couldn't do that in a million years. He'd end up knocking himself out. He bit his lip and hoped he wouldn't really have to wrestle anything. He was supposed to be the amazing Neville Longbottom, but he was actually just as clumsy as the next old fool, maybe even more.

The woman opened up the doors to the Great Hall. There were four tables, upon which older students from years 2-7 sat, staring at them all.

Neville grew more nervous: they'd all be looking at him while he wrestled a troll!

"Welcome, first years!" Albus Dumbledore said, in front of what looked like a staff table. Neville recognized this man; he had seen him so many times before. "And now, let's bring out the hat and let the sorting begin!"

Yes I am co-writing this with Saturn's Candlesticks to answer your question.