Neville stared down at the smoldering remains of the red envelope. He spoke so softly that Frisk could barely hear him. "I wish the Death Eaters had gotten me too. Then I'd be with them."
Frisk had no idea who Death Eaters were, but a name like that certainly didn't sound friendly. She looked briefly at Neville before following his gaze back to the envelope. "Then you'd be with who?" she asked. That one she had a pretty good guess on, and she didn't think she'd like the answer.
"My Parents," it sounded like such a simple answer, but it made Frisk shiver. Neville had been one of the two people who had shared her own lack of biological family. "I nearly got Ron killed. I'm a failure." His voice still had that same pseudo-calm tone that was chilling to Frisk.
"Why do you think that, Neville?" Frisk asked. The bell was about to ring, but neither one of them was ready to move.
"Because everyone else does," he said. "Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape... even Professor Flitwick, though he's too nice to say so. And... and..." and Frisk could sense the dam beginning to break. "My grandmother does. You heard her."
Frisk had heard her. She'd think about that later. It was Neville who was right here. "You live with her, right?" Frisk asked. The bell rang, meaning they were officially late to class, but Neville just nodded. "Do you think she cares for you?" Frisk asked.
At that, Neville finally did start to cry. "I don't know. All she says is how much I disappoint her," he said, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the tears. "I don't think she does. I wish I was with them. I wish I was with them."
Frisk felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach, Frisk had felt feelings like that. Before her trip through the underground, that kind of thought had driven her to climb Mt. Ebott, the one that it was said, nobody came back from. It had been different for her, she had gone from a foster house that considered her some sort of perfunctory duty. Neville came from a home. "You don't really think that's true, do you?" she asked. "Because it's clear you care for her."
"I don't know," admitted Neville, beginning to dry his eyes. His eyes darted around, looking to see if anyone caught him in tears, before going back to the howler. "I just don't know."
"Is there anyone else who you care about?" Frisk prodded, "I'm sure there's someone that you want to think well of you."
"Professor Sprout," Neville said. "She seems to think I do alright in Herbology."
"And do you?"
"I guess," Neville mumbled.
She'd seen other members of Neville's year heading outdoors. It led to an idea that Frisk was willing to gamble on. "Is that the class that's going on now? How do you think the Professor would feel if you weren't there?"
"She'd be worried," Neville said, finally looking up from the howler, and met Frisk's eyes again.
Frisk stood, holding out her hand to the older boy. "Do you think she's worried now?"
Neville wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his robes. "May... yes." He took Frisk's hand, pulling himself into a standing position.
"Then maybe we should go to class. I'll walk with you," Frisk offered. She thought Neville was about to object, after all, she couldn't have herbology at that moment. But he didn't, and walking in silence, they headed down to the Greenhouses together, trudging through freshly fallen snow.
When they arrived at greenhouse number three, they found Professor Sprout moving around students, watching them care for some sort of magical plant that Frisk didn't recognize. When she spotted the errant students, she made her way quickly over to them. "You should get to work, Neville, you know what we're doing," she said, and Neville scurried away to join his classmates. "Why are you here, Frisk?" she asked, curiously.
"I was worried Neville might hurt himself," Frisk said quietly. Professor Sprout looked at Neville in alarm before turning back to Frisk. After confirming the professor knew about the lost passwords and punishment, she described what they talked about in the entrance hall. "Please, make sure he's okay?" Frisk asked.
"I will," the teacher promised Frisk. "How did you not end up in Hufflepuff?" She mused as she rifled through her pockets for a quill and a small piece of parchment. Frisk shrugged, not wanting to say it was due to bad experiences with a flower, at least not in the middle of her greenhouse. "Where are you supposed to be right now?"
"Charms," Frisk supplied. Frisk took the offered note when it was given, but asked, "Professor... do you know what happened to Neville's parents?"
Professor Sprout's face looked sad, and she glanced over at Neville again. "I do, but that is for Neville to discuss, not for me. I am sure you understand." Frisk did, and said as much. She hurried back up and through the castle, and luckily, she ran into neither Ms. Norris nor Filch on her trek. Several minutes later, Frisk walked into Professor Flitwick's class. He stopped for a moment when she entered, but took the note, read it quickly, and smiled at Frisk, who hurried into her seat.
She was unable to really focus on charms, though. Her mind kept wandering back to Neville, because the more she thought about it, the more upset she got at Neville's grandmother. Family was supposed to be supportive of each other. Neville had already punished himself. He'd already been punished by McGonagall, and she had to have known that, why pile on like that? By the time the bell rang for second period, Frisk was upset.
When she arrived back in the great hall for lunch, Frisk looked for Neville, but he wasn't there. Ginny was, and she headed that way instead.
"What's got into you, Frisk?" Ginny asked as Frisk sat down grumpily at the Gryffindor table. Frisk didn't answer at first, she was trying to decide if she was hungry or not. Eventually, she gave up, took a sandwich, and poured herself some pumpkin juice. "You look like you're ready to burst."
"Neville," Frisk said. Then she told Ginny everything that had happened that morning. While Ginny looked skeptical at first, as Frisk continued, realization must have come to her. "I know nobody likes to be screamed at," Frisk finished. "But I hadn't been expecting that."
"Wow," Ginny said. "I'm glad you were there," then she looked up. "Neville just came in, Professor Hagrid is with him," she informed Frisk. Then, after about a minute, "Hey, Neville. You alright?"
"Are you feeling better?" Frisk asked, as Neville sat down next to her.
"I am," Neville said. He picked up a sandwich from the center tray, placing it on a plate in front of him. He turned to Frisk. "Thank you."
"Anyone could have come," she said, fidgeting with her own sandwich.
"But no one else did, so thank you," Neville said.
"Are you going to say anything to her?" Frisk asked. Neville looked at her blankly, so Frisk clarified. "Your grandmother? She may have meant well, but that was the tipping point, wasn't it?"
Neville coughed on his sandwich, "How can I... but I... that's Granny," he said. "I can't say anything to her."
Frisk looked at Neville, her mind racing through ideas. Finally it settled on one she thought might work. "Don't you think she'd respect you being brave enough to tell her how you felt?" she asked.
Neville looked like he was about to protest when Ginny spoke up, "I think that's a good idea. Besides," and her eyes glinted mischievously, "If you don't, Frisk might write it without you."
He turned to Frisk wide eyed. "You wouldn't..."
"I hadn't thought about it," Frisk admitted. "No, Neville, I wouldn't. But I wouldn't let this go, either. If you want your grandmother to know how you're feeling, you're going to have to tell her. She isn't going to otherwise. As for you," she turned to the grinning Ginny, "You've spent too much time with Fred and George."
"Guilty!" Ginny said cheerfully, raising a cup in admittance before drinking from it. Her face turned serious. "I do think it's a good idea, Neville, and I am glad you're feeling better.
"I'll think about it," Neville promised, taking another bite of lunch. "Maybe you're right, Frisk."
"Great," Frisk said. "I'll wait for you outside the portrait tonight. If someone lets you in first, just ask the Fat Lady to tell me, please?"
"I will... and Fisk? Thank you again," Neville said. "Just for being there."
That evening, Neville was waiting for Frisk outside the Gryffindor portrait passage, being leered at by the newly stationed security trolls. To Frisk's surprise, he agreed readily to write the letter with her. So they put homework on hold to do that.
Also surprising was that Hermione was in the common room, but Ron and Harry were not. If Frisk didn't consider the letter more important, Frisk would have taken another go at approaching her. She'd try again the next night.
It was just as well, when Harry and Ron did return to stare at the notice board announcing another Hogsmeade visit, they had another row with Hermione.
When Frisk returned the next night to the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron were there, but Hermione was not. So she couldn't actually ask her. Again.
Frisk, frustrated, and wondering if she missed her chance, climbed up to the dormitory to drop off her books. She was caught up enough with her homework that she wasn't worried about falling behind, so she was going to set it aside tonight. The resident Gryffindor cat, Crookshanks, was heading down, on what was surely important cat business.
"Crookshanks," Frisk complained to the mini-lion. "Where's Hermione? I really need a chance to talk to her." To Frisk's surprise, Crookshanks looked up at her, then sat down in the middle of the stairs, busily cleaning his face with a paw. Had he actually understood her? It seemed to be worth a go. "Uh, okay! Be right back!" She ran the rest of the way up the stairs, turned into the bedroom, and dropped of her bag. When she came back down, Crookshanks trotted down the stairs ahead of her.
"Get that cat out of here!" came a shout from the side.
Crookshanks flattened his ears, but didn't otherwise react, and headed down toward the portrait hole. He waited patiently while Frisk opened it for them, and headed for the grand staircase. They made their way down to the library first. The cat sat down outside the door, his tail swishing over the floor. Frisk did a quick search through it, but turned up no Hermione.
"No," Frisk told the feline, "she's not there." Crookshanks stood again, trotting quickly toward the great hall, and then to the main door. He pawed at it, looking back at Frisk. "Does Hermione let you out of the castle?" Frisk asked. The cat gave her a level stare, and Frisk gave in, pushing the door open.
She followed the determined feline across the grounds, pulling her robes tighter around her. She hadn't had Herbology today, and wasn't wearing her heavy cloak. When she got to the large hut on the far side of the grounds, she was shivering. She didn't need Crookshanks prompting to knock on the door.
A dog barked excitedly in response, "Now, who could that be?" came a gruff voice from inside. A moment later, the door opened, revealing the very large form of Professor Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. "Hullo. Who are you?" he asked, staring down to read the name stitched into Frisk's robe.
Crookshanks bolted into the room, and behind Hagrid, Frisk could see the brown haired and red-faced form of Hermione Granger. "Frisk?" she asked, "what are you doing here?"
"Freezing," Frisk said through chattering teeth. "May I come in?"
"O' course, o' course," Hagrid said, stepping back to allow Frisk entry. Frisk took one step into the warmth of the cabin and petrified. There was a large beast right in front of her that she'd never seen before. It had a horse's lower body, with the upper body of a majestic eagle. Its brilliant orange eyes were focused on Frisk. Thoughts bubbled into Frisk's mind.
That's a hippogriff. Best to introduce yourself.
"Hi," Frisk said, her eyes not leaving the hippogriff's. "My name's Frisk. Frisk Dreemurr."
The hippogriff didn't blink. It didn't move. Neither did Hagrid or Hermione. They were both staring at Frisk.
This kingly creature seems to be waiting for the proper respect.
Frisk lowered her eyes, and since it was impossible to curtsy in a robe, she managed a deep bow. When she straightened up, the hippogriff took it in for a second, and then returned the bow, stretching its forelegs and lowering its head. Frisk felt the tension in the room evaporate, like she had just agreed to end a fight in the underground.
"May I touch you?" Frisk asked tentatively. The hippogriff leaned forward, and allowed Frisk to gently stroke his neck feathers. "Thanks," she whispered under her breath. But if there was a response, it didn't come to her. There never had been one. "You're beautiful," she said more loudly.
"I'm impressed! How'd you know ta do that?" Hagrid asked.
Frisk's mind raced to think of something plausible. "My friend Papyrus picked up a copy of the monster book of monsters," was what Frisk came up with. "I think he mentioned it."
"He was the skeleton we met in Hogsmeade, right?" Hermione asked, also sounding impressed. "And you remembered it under pressure."
"Skele... oh, one of the Undergroun' monsters?" Hagrid asked. "Anyway, if Buckbeak likes you, that's good enough fer me. So now tha' we're introduced, come 'n have a seat. May I offer you some tea?"
Frisk didn't really care for tea, but anything warm would feel good right at the moment. She maneuvered around to an empty spot at the table. "Please," she said. Hagrid poured some tea into an oversized cup, while Frisk finally got a chance to take in the hut.
Along with the hippogriff, there was a large black mastiff, which seemed to be done investigating Crookshanks (who had jumped on the table in annoyance) and oversized everything else, made to fit Hagrid's enormous stature. And, with only two books in front of her, was Hermione, just as red faced as when Frisk had seen her after the Quidditch match.
"So why are ye down here, Frisk?" Hagrid asked.
"Actually, I was looking for Hermione," Frisk said. "Crookshanks led me here, clever cat," she continued, reaching forward to scratch his ears. Hermione looked at her, startled, but still upset over something. "But now that I'm here... are you okay, Hermione?"
"I'm alright," Hermione said. Crookshanks hissed and Hagrid gave a snort.
"Yer not alright, 'ermione," Hagrid told her. "You just got done with th' waterworks." Hermione glared at both man and cat equally.
"That's not hard to tell," Frisk said, trying to take the pressure off Hagrid. "May I ask what's wrong?" Frisk waited, but Hermione wasn't done glaring. "Okay, I'll guess. You miss your friends, right?"
"It's that stupid rat!" Hermione said, with as much conviction as she could muster. "Crookshanks is just doing what comes naturally to a cat."
"People get funny about pets," Hagrid said sagely. "I told 'arry and Ron that last night. I mean, look at us, doing what we can for Buckbeak here." He leaned over, and with a large hand, stroked the hippogriff's torso.
"Crookshanks?" Frisk asked, struck by a thought. The cat looked up at its name. "Did you eat Scabbers... Ron's rat?"
"Frisk," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "It's just a cat." But Crookshanks shook his head in a very human like negative gesture. "Crookshanks," Hermione said disbelievingly. "You were trying to, right?" This time there was a noticeable pause, then Crookshanks shook his head again.
"But you were attacking him," Frisk said. Crookshanks turned to stare at Frisk. "Why?" Crookshanks tilted his head at Frisk. That had the feel of, "I'm a cat, genius," which didn't really help, because Frisk thought there was a reason but...
"It doesn't actually matter," Hermione said, her voice dropping back into depression. "Ron isn't going to believe Crookshanks anyway." Crookshanks stood, stretched, and walked across the table over to Hermione, pressing his cheek into hers, rubbing against it.
"I wish I had some ideas for you, 'ermione," Hagrid said. "I tried with the boys yesterday."
"Why don't you just apologize?" Frisk asked, remembering Ron's complaint at the Quidditch celebration. "I know you don't want to give up Crookshanks, and you shouldn't, but just saying..."
"But Crookshanks hasn't done anything wrong! And neither have I," Hermione declared, folding her arms.
"When it comes down to it," Frisk asked softly. "What's more important? You not being wrong, or your friendship with Ron and Harry?"
For several seconds, Hermione stared at Frisk.
"I think even I know the answer to that, 'ermione," Hagrid told her.
"My friendship," Hermione said, finally. "I want my friends back. But what do I say? How do I apologize to them? Where do I even start?"
Frisk smiled. "Let me help you with that."
"How?" Hermione asked, staring at her in confusion.
"Obviously, we'll roleplay."