-Chapter Four-

Spit in This Cup


Seeing that Harry wasn't going to shake his hand, Neville let it fall to his side. His eyes lost the sparkle that had built up over the day and he visibly sagged. Professor McGonagall turned back to the boys, having been looking along the Alley, as though waiting for something. Grimacing, she squatted down so she was at the boys' eye level. She quickly clapped Neville on the upper arms and gave him a meaningful look before turning to Harry.

"What is it?" she asked, cupping Harry's face and looking into his eyes. She thought for a moment. "Is it about going home?" Harry's breath caught and his eyes flickered, focusing on the professor in front of him. He nodded. "Listen to me, Mr... Harry. I will not let you go back to those people. It's something I should have done a long time ago. I will do everything in my power to keep you away from them."

"As will I." Harry, Neville and the professor looked up to see Augusta Longbottom standing over them. Minerva flashed her a quick smile.

"How about we tell you the plan on the way?" the professor asked. Harry nodded again and consented to be led by the hand.

#

Harry coughed and spluttered, patting the ground around him. Quickly, his fingers closed around his glasses and he pressed them back onto his face. With those honed reflexes, he took in a rough layout of the room and those in it. He registered the wide staircase opposite a grand door flanked by high windows. Other doors led further into the building, most of which were wide open. An imposing woman stood a little way away with an eyebrow raised while a boy was approaching the spot where Harry was sprawled. Behind, Professor McGonagall was emerging from green flames in the marble fireplace.

Harry shuddered. What a horrible way to travel. As a hand was extended towards him, he drew back warily. Neville's eyebrows drew together and Harry mentally shook himself as he began to understand his position.

"Thanks," he said as he took Neville's hand. Neville pulled him to his feet and Harry brushed himself down. "Hey, I'm sorry about earlier." He extended his hand once more and Neville looked at it, smiling.

"No problem," Neville said, shaking Harry's hand. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. What the heck was that?"

"Floo powder," Neville explained. "It's the easiest way to get around. Was that your first time?" Harry nodded. "Yeah, my first time was awful. I fell into a table at the Leaky Cauldron and got covered in Gillywater. You're so much better than me already."

Professor McGonagall straightened as she left the fireplace and cast a quick cleaning charm over her robes. She looked over at Augusta, who seemed to have drawn herself up as Neville reassured Harry, pride burning in her eyes. The two women shared a look as Neville began to pull Harry towards the back of the house and Augusta motioned towards the drawing room. A steaming pot of tea and two cups were already in place when they sat down.

"Thank you for this, Augusta. I just had to do something." Augusta waved a hand at the professor.

"No thanks necessary," she said. "Goodness knows the two of them would have grown up together if Lily and James hadn't... if they were still here. Where's he been all this time?"

"His aunt and uncle," Professor McGonagall said, her lips curling in disgust.

"Whatshername - Petunia? Surely not. Lily would never have wanted that." Augusta paused halfway through pouring the professor a cup of tea. "Alice was... Is his godmother, you see."

"And Sirius Black is his godfather." Both women looked into their cups and sighed. "I can't believe they'd specify those awful people in their will."

"Me neither, but I wasn't there for the will reading. I'm sure you can understand."

"Of course," Professor McGonagall said. The pain in Augusta's eyes was clear, no matter how long she had practiced her stoic demeanour. "I'm sure we can find out later. His aunt and uncle certainly won't complain that he's not tainting their perfect lives with abnormality." Augusta raised her eyebrows at the change in the professor's tone for that last sentence, and even further when she realised the significance of her choice of words.

#

"You what?" Harry exclaimed.

"Spit in this cup," Neville repeated, waving the grubby vessel in front of Harry's face. The raven-haired boy looked confused and was beginning to perspire in the heat of the greenhouse.

"I thought I heard you say you were going to bite me if I didn't look where I was going." Neville raised an eyebrow at this.

"Alright, enough sarcasm," he said. "I know it's an odd request. Just do it."

Harry shrugged. Perhaps this is what friends did. He dutifully spat into Neville's cup and the round-faced boy did the same. Harry let his focus wander back to their surroundings, grateful for the slight breeze between the open door and the propped-open windows. A plant at the far end seemed to be chained to a pole embedded into the floor. It was clearly straining against its bindings and towards the nearest window. Another plant had small weights attached at regular points along its stems and a number of small fruits were pointing straight upwards, as though dangling towards the ceiling. None of the plants in this greenhouse were in the garden at Privet Drive.

Neville's interest in plants was certainly understandable. Indeed, gardening was Harry's favourite chore. It took him as far away from the Dursleys as possible, for one. If he was out of sight, they would usually forget about him for a while. Moreover, the plants had nothing against him. They didn't ask him to do anything, nor scold him when he did something wrong. No weed would beat him because he'd dug it up. No bush would bear a grudge from being pruned too heavily. A flower wouldn't shriek at the discomfort of being repotted. Still, Harry wasn't sure the same could be said for any of Neville's bizarre plants.

After Neville folded a piece of parchment and tucked it into his pocket, the two boys walked around the extensive gardens. Harry listened to his new friend talking about the various plants they passed and the places he liked to sit and be alone. Warmth filled Harry's chest as Neville let him into those secrets. He always had an appreciation of somewhere you could truly be alone and undisturbed. He heeded Neville's words when he was warned where not to go and what not to touch, realising at the same time why there had been a line painted halfway across the greenhouse. There were some places where even Neville wasn't allowed.

"Mistress would like young master Neville and his friend to know that dinner is ready." The two boys were sitting by a small pond, watching dragonflies skim across the surface, when a small creature suddenly appeared with this message. Harry had jumped at the creature's appearance and had scrambled back towards a gently fluttering bush.

"What was that?" he asked when the creature had vanished, just as suddenly as it had appeared.

"That was Bolly," Neville said. Seeing Harry's continued confusion, he continued to explain. "She's a house-elf. She helps around the house with all the cleaning and cooking and gardening and fixing things and stuff. Sometimes she lets me help her plant things out here."

"But she looked so happy," Harry murmured, furrowing his brow.

"Of course she is," Neville said, pulling Harry to his feet. "House-elves love to help and, to us, she's part of the family. Gran always taught me to treat house-elves with respect, but I never understood why anyone wouldn't." Harry sighed wistfully. Before today, he would have given anything to be like the house-elf, especially as he had been serving the same purpose since he was six.

#

"Has Neville shown you around the whole house?" Augusta asked when Harry had finished putting food onto his plate.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied. "You have a lovely home and your garden is amazing." Neville blushed and beamed at his plate.

"You're kind to say so. I do hope you will find it an adequate place to stay until you go to Hogwarts." Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Have you decided on anything you might like to do while you're here?"

"If you'll let me," Harry said, "I'd like to spend some time in your library and learn about magic."

Indeed, Harry spent much of August in the Longbottom library reading about his parents' world. Neville often accompanied him when he read through the Hogwarts first year textbooks. He occasionally read through One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi while Harry was reading more general texts about the wizarding world, drinking in the images of plants and accompanying information over and over again. Harry smirked when he imagined Neville sleeping with the book on his pillow each night.

When Neville had shown Harry to his room after dinner on the first night, Harry had stopped at the door. The walls were painted a deep, mossy green and, along with the dark brown wood of the furniture, made Harry feel as though he was looking into a tree. The room was about the size of Dudley's room back at Privet Drive and even had a similar bed.

"I'm sorry it's not much," Neville began, his face falling at Harry's reaction.

"A bed..." Harry whispered. Neville spun around to look at him, eyebrows quirked in an unspoken question. Harry blushed; he hadn't realised he'd said that out loud. It would have been even more embarrassing if he had noticed, at that moment, the perfectly Harry-sized clothes carefully arranged in the furniture, but it was all thankfully closed. "It's lovely," he reassured Neville loudly. He bounced over to the window to look at the view. The garden looked different from higher up and more of the underlying pattern to its layout could be seen. The greenhouse seemed to be the only straight lines in a world of sinuous and looping curves.

#

Often, when Neville went to tend to some of the plants outside and in the greenhouse, Augusta would invite Harry into the drawing room. He enjoyed the discussions they had as they often centred around his parents. The tea and biscuits were also a treat, only getting better when Bolly the house-elf learned that his favourite sweet treat was treacle tart. This simple fare was a welcome change from the food at dinner, which tended to be a bit rich and heavy for the diet he was used to.

"I understand you were introduced to your vault for the first time when we met in Gringotts," Augusta began. Throughout their conversations, Harry had come to understand that Madam Longbottom began with an observation, where she would gauge the direction of their chat by the response he gave to this opening.

"Yes, ma'am. I've never seen so much money in my life," Harry replied.

"The biggest fortune often diminishes fastest," Augusta said wisely.

"I don't know what I could possibly spend all that money on."

"You'd be surprised," Augusta said as she took a sip of her tea. "But equally, you'd be surprised at how much it can grow. As much as you could live your entire life just on that money in your vault, you're going to want to earn money somehow. It was a challenge passed down the generations of Potters that you should leave the vault with more money than it started with. Do you think you could do that?" Harry nodded, determined to live up to the expectations of his ancestors.

"I certainly want to try," Harry promised. Augusta gave him a wide, genuine smile. Harry blushed and covered his embarrassment by taking a large gulp of tea.

"Did you see anything in the vault besides the money?"

"No, ma'am. We only had time to get some money and I couldn't see behind it all."

"Remember to have a look the next time you go to Gringotts. They don't just store money and I'd hate for you to go through your life not seeing what else might be in your vault." Harry nodded in agreement.

Harry enjoyed his conversations with Augusta, even when he felt he was being x-rayed by her stern and calculating gaze. The topics ranged from basic theories of magic and the different subjects taught at Hogwarts to wizarding history and politics. He didn't enjoy their conversations about his past, but feeling indebted to the Longbottoms helped the earlier conversations about the Dursleys and, eventually, Harry found it easier to talk about them.

Quite often, he would start reading books in the library based on their chats and, sometimes, they were guided by what Harry had read previously. Neville didn't always understand Harry's interest in the wide-ranging topics of the books he read, and he certainly didn't know how Harry kept himself from being bored, but the boys spent enough time together to form a strong friendship. They were both relatively quiet boys, which both Augusta and Bolly appreciated, so neither one dominated in their interactions.

"Umm, Harry," Neville said as he approached the guest in the library. Harry looked up and smiled at his host. "Gran says we should get ready for school. We'll be going early in the morning." Harry thought back to the letters they had received a couple of days ago, containing only tickets to the Hogwarts Express. Augusta had noted that they wouldn't need to bring the tickets with them; they were meant to be kept as mementos of their entry into the school, as well as a reminder for Muggle-raised students. A lot of magical families had homes in and around London due to their proximity to Kings Cross station, but the Longbottom house was still quite a way out.

"How are we getting there?" Harry asked. His forehead creased at the thought of having to take the Floo again.

"Gran's arranged a car with the Ministry." Harry knew all about Madam Longbottom's influence within the Ministry from his time in the drawing room. He was glad that they would be travelling in ways he was used to. Wizarding travel, though convenient and fast, was in no way focused on comfort.

"Brilliant," Harry said. "Let me just get to the end of this bit."

#

The big clock at the centre of Kings Cross reminded the crowds of busy travellers that it was twenty minutes past ten. To the Longbottom party, and to any other magical folk, this told them that the Hogwarts Express would be leaving in forty minutes and that they had plenty of time to casually pass through the ticket barrier between platforms nine and ten. Harry grinned when he saw the ornate metal sign which displayed the platform number, so unlike the plastic numbers on all the ordinary platforms.

Augusta had bid the boys farewell and left once she had seen them onto the train, making sure Neville still had his toad, Trevor, before she went. They had chosen a compartment far from the entrance to the platform, knowing that it would be the less crowded end of the train. Letting out a sigh when they saw that their stern guardian had left, the two boys relaxed and lay across the seats of the compartment. They had almost drifted off to catch up on the sleep denied to them by their early morning when there was a loud tutting noise.

"Such a lack of decorum, Mr Longbottom," someone said. Both Harry and Neville shot up. Standing at the door were two girls. The girl in the centre of the doorway had dark ginger hair and a wicked smirk, whereas the pink-faced girl behind her was blonde and had a nervous expression.

"Susan!" Neville exclaimed, finally sitting up properly. The ginger girl smiled and took the seat next to him.

"Auntie told me you'd be at this end. I think your gran said something. Oh, this is Hannah." Hannah shyly entered the compartment when Susan introduced her and sat down when Harry moved to accommodate her.

"Did you have a good holiday?" Neville asked. Susan managed to look both delighted and embarrassed.

"It was great!" Susan gushed. "I'm sorry I didn't get to see you for so long. Auntie had been saving up her holiday days for ages and we won't have as much time together now I'm going to Hogwarts."

"Don't worry about that," Neville said, waving her off. "I had Harry here for company."

"Harry?" Hannah asked, looking at him sitting beside her. Harry wore his best smile and held out his hand.

"Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you." Harry decided to shake the hands of the girls rather than kissing their hands as custom apparently dictated. There was enough time to get used to that later, if necessary.

"The Harry Potter?" Hannah asked, eyes wide and roving towards his forehead.

"Hannah!" Susan hissed. "Leave him alone!" Harry gave Susan a wry smile of gratitude.

"Sorry," Hannah said sheepishly. "So which house does everyone think they'll be in?"

"House?" Harry asked. Susan looked at him with an odd expression, her head tilted.

"Yeah," said Hannah, "like your Hogwarts house. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, you know..." Harry shook his head, baffled at the list of nonsense words. "It's like your team, especially for Quidditch, but you have all your classes with your house and there's a competition between them with a trophy and stuff."

"Quidditch is that sport played on broomsticks, right?" Harry asked, turning to Neville for confirmation. Inspecting Trevor, rather than turning to Harry, he nodded.

"How do you not know about the houses and Quidditch?" Susan asked. Harry began to feel uncomfortable and frustrated. Couldn't they talk about something else?

"It might surprise you to learn," Harry replied hotly, "that I wasn't told about magic until a few weeks ago. Can we just move on?" Neville and the girls all had the decency to look embarrassed and Susan realised that she was being a bit insensitive. She opened her mouth to apologise, but Neville got there first.

"Sorry, mate," he said. "I should have told you about all this."

The four grew quiet as they waited the last few minutes until the train was ready to depart. The platform had got very crowded since they had arrived, even at their far end of the train, and steam had begun to billow past the window in great clouds. Harry was facing in the direction the train was headed, so it was Neville who saw the hands of the other students stretching out of the windows, waving goodbye to the crowds on the platform. He turned to Harry, Hannah and Susan.

"Hey. Whatever house we're in, we'll all be friends, right?"