A/N This is, at the moment, a one shot although I might add further chapters following the rest of Neville's day depending on my inspiration after HBP. There are a number of lines which are quoted verbatim from the text, as I was trying to be as close to the text as possible just from Neville's point of view.
Chapter One
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. An owl, flying in from its time abroad, might swoop around the castle's many turrets and towers, buttresses and encircling walls, might glide past its domed roofs, pointed spires and leering gargoyles. If it were a particularly confused owl, or a new one, it might head for a tall tower near the west of the vast school instead of the Owlrey or the Great Hall. Near the top of this tower (the author having abandoned her hypothetical owl) stood a window that looked into a large room filled with five four-poster beds, their inhabitants, five teenage boys, and a layer of discarded possessions. One of the boys was The Boy Who Lived, as foretold by prophecy but he didn't know about that yet. Another was his best friends, the most loyal and trusted. There was a black Londoner and a sandy haired Irish lad. The final boy was The Boy Who Almost Lived. Here, chance had separated him from his neighbour two beds over. This boy's name was Neville Longbottom.
At the time our story begins, all five boys lay asleep, silent but for the snores, snorts and shifting that are unavoidable in a collection of boys. Slowly, however, that changed. The bed containing Harry Potter soon showed signs of more activity than the others. Its inhabitant was tossing and turning, sweating and mumbling. A heave of blankets from one of the other beds was Ron getting up to check on his friend. This was what woke Neville and he quickly joined Ron at the end of Harry's bed.
"Do you think we should wake him up?" Ron whispered.
"I don't know. What do you think's wrong with him?"
Their whispered conversation had awakened Seamus and Dean and now all four boys were crowded around Harry's wracked form.
"I'm going to," said Ron determinedly, "Harry! HARRY!"
Harry woke with a start. He stared around him as if blind. The room was dimly lit by the sky outside and Neville could see that Harry was pale and sweating.
"Harry!" Ron said again, as if to centre his friend. It seemed to work as Harry's eyes became slight more focused before he leaned over the bed and vomited profusely.
"He's really ill," Neville felt that sick feeling in his stomach of every Potions class, every taunt of Malfoy's, every clumsy mistake, "Should we call someone?"
Harry was still hanging over the side of the bed, breathing heavily. He didn't look as though he could hear what was going on or understand.
"Harry! Harry!"
Neville could hear the panic in Ron's voice that matched what seemed to be happening in his intestines. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he felt sympathy for Ron. It must be immeasurably worse for it to be your best friend being ill in the bed next to yours.
Harry pushed himself upright, his arms trembling, and looking like he was trying not to be ill again. "Your dad," he panted, his chest heaving, "Your dad's … been attacked …"
"What?" said Ron uncomprehendingly.
"Your dad! He's been bitten, it's serious, there was blood everywhere…"
Neville looked from Ron's confused face to Harry's disturbed one. "I'm going for help," he said in a slightly higher voice than usually. He ran out of the dorm, forgetting to grab his wand or robe, but noticing that Seamus and Dean had pulled away from Harry's bed and were muttering to each other and throwing distrustful looks at where Harry was telling Ron something. Then he was tripping down the dark stairs of the tower and emerging in the shadowy common room. There were no students studying around the fire; it was much too late and besides, there was no fire. Stumbling over ottomans and the abandoned debris of some eight dozen Gryffindors, Neville found the portrait hole and scrambled out. Once in the corridors however, he realized he hadn't the slightest idea how to someone to help. Trying to quell his rising panic, he thought about who would be the most helpful person in the castle. Madam Pomfrey no doubt. He decided to head towards the hospital wing in the hopes that Madam Pomfrey would somehow still be awake.
The castle was quiet, and cool breezes played around his ankles, making him shiver. He reached for his wand to shed some light and only then realized he had left in Gryffindor tower. Feeling more scared and alone than before, he continued in what he hoped was the direction of the hospital wing. He was rounding a corner near the Charms classroom when he caught sight of Mrs Norris. In desperation he stood stock still, willing her not to notice him, not to go and fetch Filch, not to get him in trouble. None of his prayers were answered when she whisked away after fixing him with her luminous glare. Neville stood rooted to the spot, unsure whether he should leave and risk being in more trouble but unwilling to be found at all. He found he had hesitated too long when Filch appeared from the same corner as Mrs Norris.
"Student out of bed at this hour!" he muttered. Despite his panic, Neville found himself wondering whether Filch ever slept or if he spent all twenty-four hours of the day patrolling the halls for rule breaking students. "Well, you'll be sorry. If only the strap were still allowed, I'd have you repentant in no time. Come along now."
He gestured for Neville to follow him, no doubt to his office where Neville would be sentenced to some horrible punishment for no more than trying to find Madam Pomfrey.
"I'm looking for Madam Pomfrey," he blurted out, "One of my dorm-mates … he's ill. I was looking for help."
Filch stopped and looked at his suspiciously. Neville waited with baited breath. "Hmmph," he snorted, "A likely story. Lies like that will end you up in front of you Head of House. In fact –" he smirked rather alarmingly, "Why don't I take you there?"
"To Professor McGonagall?" Neville squeaked. Filch shot him a look of disgust and began stumping up a flight of stairs. Neville followed nervously. After a few minutes however, when Filch did nothing more than glare balefully at him and mumble threats, Neville decided he probably wasn't faced with disembowelment. While McGonagall was perhaps less kindly than Madam Pomfrey, she certainly wouldn't punish him for looking for help when Harry was ill. Feeling slightly better, Neville followed Filch all the way to a recessed doorway, in which was set a magnificent mahogany door. Looking around, Neville realized they were in a part of the castle he didn't recognize.
Filch knocked on the door and a few moments later, Professor McGonagall appeared in a tartan dressing gown and holding her wand in one hand and her spectacles in the other.
"What is it, Argus?" she asked disapprovingly.
"Found this student wandering the halls professor. So late. Thought he should be brought to you for –" he coughed. Neville couldn't understand how it managed to sound like a cough of anticipation. "punishment," Filch finished.
"I see. Well, Mr Longbottom what do you have to say for yourself? I believe this is not the first time you have been out of bed after hours."
"I know Professor!" Neville broke in desperately, "But it's Harry! He's really ill and I was looking for Madam Pomfrey."
She looked at him closely for one agonizingly long moment and then said the thing Neville had least expected. "Very ill?"
He nodded earnestly, surprised. For a second he thought he had heard a hint of panic in McGonagall's brisk tones but a second later he was sure he had been mistaken.
"Very well. Argus, you may go. I will escorted Mr Longbottom back to Gryffindor Tower."
Filch looked sullen. "But –"
"Thank you Argus. I believe I have it under control. Come Mr Longbottom."
McGonagall swept quickly down the corridor and up the two flights of stairs to Gryffindor tower. Neville had to trot to keep up with her.
"Holly wreath" she snapped at the slumbering Fat Lady, who swung open without waking up. She crossed over the common room and up the spiral staircase and then they were entering the Fifth Year's dorm and Neville could see Harry lying in bed and Ron staring at him nervously.
"Over here, Professor." He showed McGonagall over to where Harry was staring at the ceiling.
"What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?" she asked sharply. Harry looked up with more relief than Neville had expected. Ron was also looking at McGonagall with gratitude although Dean and Seamus continued to stare at Harry.
"It's Ron's dad," he said, sitting up, "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious, I saw it happen."
"What do you mean, you saw it happen?" said Professor McGonagall, her dark eyebrows contracting.
"I don't know…I was asleep and then I was there…"
"You mean you dreamed this?"
"No!" said Harry, with more vehemence than Neville had ever heard him address a teacher. "I was having a dream at first about something completely different, something stupid… and then this interrupted it. It was real, I didn't imagine it. Mr Weasley was asleep on the floor and he was attacked by a gigantic snake, there was a load of blood, he collapsed, someone's got to find out where he is…"
For a moment no one said anything. Neville didn't understand what Harry had seen but it appeared Professor McGonagall did. And whatever it was seemed to frighten her.
"I'm not lying and I'm not mad!" Harry told her, his voice rising to a shout, "I tell you, I saw it happen!"
"I believe you, Potter," said Professor McGonagall curtly, "Put on your dressing gown – we're going to see the Headmaster.
Harry jumped out of bed eagerly. Professor McGonagall looked at Ron.
"Weasley, you ought to come too," she said finally.
Neville, Seamus and Dean watched in silence as the Ron, Harry and McGonagall left the dorm.
"Loony," said Seamus quietly. Neville pretended not to hear although a part of him wanted to confront Seamus and defend Harry. Seamus looked at the vomit next to Harry's bed.
"Disgusting," he added, "Scourgify." With a wave of his wand the vomit vanished.
"But why…" Dean didn't finish his sentence. He stared from Seamus' set face, to Harry's twisted sheets and decided not to continue.
As the three remaining Gryffindors re-entered their four-poster beds, Neville thought about Dean's question, for he was fairly certain he knew what it was. Why did Professor McGonagall believe Harry? And why did she seem to know what his talk of Mr Weasley and a giant snake meant? As he tried to sleep with those questions hanging over his head, his mind kept conjuring images to keep him awake. Mr Weasley (who he had never met but imagined as an older Ron with less freckles) lay bleeding and moaning in pain on the floor. Then he was lying blank-eyed in St. Mungo's while concerned medi-wizards surrounded him. Then Mr Weasley turned into his father who stared at him silently before offering him what looked like a plant. Dream-Neville, for he was dreaming now, reached for the plant, which unfurled into a long black snake that reared above him, hissing and spitting. His father, who was now Mr Weasley again, said, "Don't let it get away!" and Neville was forced to chase the snake down the long hallways of St. Mungo's. He heard his mother cry for him to come back but he couldn't because his father had told him to catch the snake – or had it been Mr Weasley? It didn't matter, Neville was running and running and running and would never catch the snake.