AN: Thanks to all my reviewers so far! As to whether or not the Boy-Who-Lived is Neville or not, for now, the world believes it to be Neville. Will that change? I'm not giving anything away.
As to Augusta Longbottom's character change in my fic, I based it off of a few things. In canon, yes, she's proud and a beacon of strength, but does ultimately love her grandson. In my fic, she's been "forced" into exile with Neville, living in a country that is utterly unfamiliar to her, without friends or family beyond an infant at that point. She's had a decade to ruminate on the death of her beloved son. I'd say that she's been waiting to return to England since the day she arrived in Norway, and she has ambivalent feelings about Neville: last Longbottom and her grandson, but he also survived when Frank did not, and precipitated her secluded life in Norway. Hence she has a vested interest in regaining her place in British wizarding society, and certainly sees Neville as a means to that end.
Here we begin to enter the AU nature of this fic, as Neville is going to Hogwarts, and his journey takes a very different turn than Harry's did in JK's books!
I own nothing you recognize, and everything you don't.
September 1
The summer that had been unfolding so slowly for Neville Longbottom suddenly flew by. After the trip to Baldrmarket for his wand, the days all seemed to melt into one another. He still tended to the garden daily, but he was spending more and more time playing with Britta and Oscar, and talking to Aunt Clare, since it had finally set in that he would not be with his family for almost a year. Oscar had been extremely helpful, and had gone through The Standard Book of Spells Grade 1 with Neville, pointing out some key spells to experiment with, as well as major differences between all the Norwegian-based spells he had seen his cousin and aunt perform, and the British, mostly Latin based magic he would be expected to learn. Neville was grateful for the assistance, but the two boys were most happy to spend any time together, since they weren't to be school friends as they'd intended.
"Niels! Have you seen my Meteor LXV?"
"I think it's under your bed, Oscar. Did you put back my copy of The Norse Legacy? I don't want to leave without it!"
"Yes, it's on top of your pile of robes!"
Today, September 1, the entire Rasmussen / Lindhal family was heading to Trondheim to the Norwegian Ministry of Magic. Oscar would be taking one of the designated Valhalla International Portkeys (commonly referred to as VIPs) to the port town of Nynäshamn, Sweden, where the fast ferry The Valkyrie was docked to deliver students to Visby on the island of Gotland. The dramatic walls of the Valhalla Lyceum were a short carriage ride away, and the school's herd of Granian winged horses dropped off the pupils at the castle outside of Eadgilstad.
Neville, meanwhile would be taking a special international Portkey to London with Grandmother Longbottom, to the British Ministry of Magic, and from there be taken to King's Cross Station to get to Hogwarts.
Aunt Clare and Britta were coming to see both boys (and the Longbottom matriarch) off. However, the entire party was supposed to have Flooed to the Ministry five minutes ago, but there was always something else someone hadn't remembered to pack…
"Mum! I've forgotten Madoc's cage!"
"Oscar, it's in the living room next to the Floo. Don't worry, I cleaned it for you as well."
Finally, after a few aborted starts, the family assembled in the living room. Neville was holding Vali in his basket and sitting on his large trunk of school supplies. Clare motioned for him to stand up.
"Quickly now, Niels. Let me shrink your trunk; Grandmother will unshrink it for you at King's Cross. Rasktkrympe!"
Clare used the Norweigan Swift Shrink Charm on Neville and Oscar's trunks, as well as Madoc's cage. Holding Britta's hand, she threw Floo Powder onto the fire, which roared green.
"Norwegian Ministry of Magic!"
Once they had gone through, Oscar stepped through as well, along with his trunk and owl. Grandmother Longbottom took a pinch and stepped through imperiously. Alone in the house, Neville took a last look at the familiar living room, dining room, kitchen… with a deep breath, he threw his own pinch of Powder into the flames.
"Norwegian Ministry of Magic," he said quietly, then stepped into the fire.
Norwegian Ministry of Magic, Trondheim
Neville climbed out of the Floo gingerly in the Gullsalen, the main atrium of the Norwegian Ministry of Magic. Even though he'd been here plenty of times before with Aunt Clare, he often felt nervous in the building. It was stately and grand: the walls and ceiling were widely held to have been plastered with alchemical gold leaf rather than a standard color charm during the building's creation. As a result, the interiors gleamed so brilliantly and brightly that the atrium never need require any Cleaning Charms, hence the atrium's colloquial name of the Gullsalen, the "Golden Hall." Neville always felt he should be minding his manners and making himself as small as possible in a place of so much grandeur, importance and brilliance.
Trondheim had been Norway's center of wizarding politics and culture since it's founding by Norway's second incarnation of wizards, the descendants of Lady Skuld and those of Lif and Lífþrasir. Magical Niðarós, the old name for Trondheim, had been founded nearly three centuries before the Muggle settlement of the same name. Though Muggles had moved their seat of power to Áslo in the late 13th century (now Oslo), Norwegian wizards and witches had kept Trondheim as their capital.
"Oppmerksomhet studenter av Valhalla. Morgenen transport vil bli avreise fra startpunkt i cirka femten minutter."
A cool crisp voice was magically amplified throughout the Ministry, which promptly sent Britta into her now routine hysterics at the prospect of her brother's imminent departure. Neville felt his heart flutter, this should have been him. He should be going with Oscar to the morning VIP, but instead... Oscar looked closely at his cousin.
"Well, Niels? Good luck to you."
Eleven and twelve, both off to school for their first and second years respectively, neither was sure how to properly say goodbye in public. It ended with a resounding clap on the back for Neville, as his cousin threw an arm around him and promised to owl once a month with a Valhalla school owl, so as not to wear out poor Madoc.
The blond boy knelt down and kissed the bawling Britta on the cheek, gave a polite nod to Grandmother Longbottom, and then warmly embraced his mother. He straightened up, grabbed Madoc's cage – his trunk was still nicely shrunk in his pockets – and walked towards the VIP Departure Point.
The rest of the family continued to wait in the Gullsalen, until an elderly, bespectacled wizard approached them and directed through an annex of the Department of Transportation.
The family found themselves in a small, bare room, with a Muggle raincoat spread out on a table. The elderly wizard gestured at the raincoat.
"There's your Portkey. It's set to transport you two at 10:05 AM precisely, in four mintues, Mrs. Lindhal, Mr. Lindhal," he nodded at Grandmother Longbottom and Neville.
Britta immediately issued a large howl, followed by a stream of tears. The wizard excused himself, smiling awkwardly. Clare rubbed her daughter's back.
"There, there, Britta dear. Niels will be back sooner than you think, for Jul, hmm?"
"I think not," Grandmother Longbottom said stuffily, and Clare, Neville, and Britta stared at the woman. "Neville shall be spending Christmas vacation at Longbottom Manor. It is high time he came to know the country of his birth. In fact, he shall host a large holiday fete celebrating his reentry to English wizarding society, naturally with my help."
Neville looked appropriately horrified and Britta set up a fresh round of wailing. Clare glared at Augusta.
"Never fear then. We shall also spend our holiday in Britain, and bring Jul to these unsuspecting Englishmen. Dear Alice and Frank," Clare continued in a louder voice as she saw Grandmother Longbottom open her mouth to refuse this proposal, "always welcomed Johannes and I to the Manor, and as Neville is the Lord and Master of Longbottom Manor, I suspect we will always be welcomed there. Right, Niels?"
Neville just nodded vigorously, a bit shocked by his aunt's revelations. He distracted himself by hugging little Britta, and talking to her quietly to soothe her fears.
Clare smiled at Grandmother Longbottom, who had her lips in a thin, disapproving line.
"Augusta, you know of course that I am as familiar with Frank and Alice's will as you are. You may be the acting head of the family until Neville comes of age, but the Manor is entailed to him, not you. Please remember that next time you try to separate my nephew from me."
Clare picked up the now sniffing Britta, and then gave Neville a large warm hug.
"Don't be afraid, Niels," she whispered. "Hogwarts will be wonderful: you'll see. You'll make friends and have all sorts of fun. Britain is a bit different than Norway, but you'll figure things out. You've got a great instinct for people, Niels. Just keep in mind that children are not their parents… and that holds true for you. Your parents would be so proud of you, Niels, just like I am, and they would be proud of you for being yourself, not just for being a good son or the last of family."
Neville quickly brushed away the welling tears in Clare's shoulder. They broke apart and he smiled at her.
"I will miss you, Aunt Clare."
"We will miss you too, Niels. Please write to us when you can. We will see you for Jul!"
The boy took hold of the raincoat along with his Grandmother, making sure he had Vali's basket held tightly in his other hand. Clare smiled at her nephew, and nodded at Augusta. The last thing Neville heard and saw in Norway were the loud sniffles of Britta and the warm smile of Aunt Clare.
British Ministry of Magic, London
Much to Neville's surprise, as the Portkey warped him and Grandmother Longbottom into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, the first thing he could hear was frenzied clicking. He couldn't quite make sense of it until he was able to get his bearings and get a good look around, at which point the frenzied clicking was nearly drowned out by a loud buzz.
"Mr. Longbottom, how do you feel reentering your home nation for the first time?"
"Will you comment on your whereabouts for the last eleven years?"
"Are you prepared to represent British wizarding kind?"
"Neville, what Hogwarts House would you most like to be part of? Gryffindor, like your father, or Hufflepuff, like your mother?"
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Mr. Longbottom, what do you have to say to all the skeptics and critics who believed you'd abandoned Britain forever after saving it from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"
"Welcome back, Mr. Longbottom. Welcome back!"
The loud buzz of the four-dozen gathered journalists and photographers was itself bested by this last loud proclamation. A man spoke heartily and walked quickly towards the Longbottoms, flanked by two wizards in robes Neville recognized as being the same Auror uniforms that his dad had worn in many photos. He was extremely oddly dressed in Neville's estimation, wearing a pinstriped suit, scarlet tie, and pointed purple boots, topped off by a lime green bowler hat. Neville couldn't think of a more ridiculous outfit – wizards and Muggles alike wore very sensible, standard clothing in Norway.
"Minister Fudge," Augusta stated clearly, "Neville and I are humbled by your kind attentions and reception."
The oddly dressed man – this was the British Minister of Magic? Seriously? – bowed to the Longbottom matriarch.
"Madam, we are honored to welcome you to the Ministry of Magic, and welcome back our very own Neville Longbottom to Britain!"
He grabbed Neville's hand and shook it vigorously, and a round of flashbulbs went off.
"Neville will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Ministry will certainly be watching over you, and the goodwill of British wizarding society goes with you. Dawlish, please bring up the Portkey!"
A third Auror with short gray hair and a tough-looking visage approached Neville and Augusta with a tea cozy. The Longbottom matriarch held it firmly in her grasp, and then looked at her grandson.
As Neville reached out to hold the tea cozy, he felt the Portkey activate almost immediately. Another frenzied rounded of clicks could be heard from the photographers, and then they were gone from the Ministry.
Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Kings Cross, London
The Portkey deposited Neville and Grandmother Longbottom right in the middle of the platform, and as Neville looked about, he gasped at the sight.
He'd heard Oscar's delighted stories about The Valkyrie, the express ferry that delivered students from Stockholm, the large quarterdeck, the dining cabins, the other assortment of magical creatures and persons that shared the ferry to arrive in Eadgilstead, the large magical-only settlement outside Valhalla. And even in his excitement to attend school, he was still a bit upset about being forced to attend Hogwarts.
But nothing prepared him for the Hogwarts Express. Shining, gleaming, with steam pouring from the chimney, it was a beautiful train, and Neville was awed by it. Wizarding families milled about, hoisting trunks and saying farewells as young children ran rapidly around the platform.
Suddenly, Augusta reached out and smoothed the creases in her grandson's checkered shirt. Neville was surprised – it was an intimate gesture for the Longbottom matriarch – and turned his face up to her. She looked back at him critically.
"Neville, you are attending Hogwarts to restore the honor and glory to the Longbottom name, after we have been forgotten in our exile or relegated to mere myth. You are not Niels Lindhal, nor are you The Boy Who Lived. You are Neville Francis Longbottom, scion of Francis Edmund Longbottom, the last heir to the pureblood Longbottom family. And you must remember this, and make me and your departed father proud if you can."
With a wave of her wand, Neville's grandmother quickly unshrunk and levitated his trunk onto the train. As the first warning whistle sounded for imminent departure, Augusta shook her grandson's hand stiffly.
"Good luck and get aboard."
The boy hesitated, torn between fantasies of making a run for it, dashing back to the Ministry of Magic, and finding some way to create an international Portkey to Visby and Valhalla - and the throbbing desire to exceed his grandmother's low expectations of him. In the end, he sighed softly, placed Vali's basket on top of the trunk and held onto the railing and clambered aboard the train.
"Goodbye, Grandmother."
"Goodbye, Neville."
The train began to pull away, and Neville caught a final glimpse of the Longbottom matriarch, her mouth set in a firm line but her eyes betrayed her emotion. The boy didn't think it was for him: he assumed she was remembering the numerous times she'd taken his father Frank to the train during his Hogwarts days.
He pulled his trunk down the corridor, past gossiping witches, loud, boisterous wizards, and scattered groups of first years looking equal parts excited and apprehensive. In the middle of the train, he came across a seemingly empty compartment, save a shabby bundle of robes near the window, and immediately took the opportunity to stow his trunk, place the still sleeping Vali on a seat and sit next to his dog. A bit exhausted from the long Floo and Portkey travel, not to mention the bizarre meeting in the British Ministry, Neville closed his eyes, hoping for a nice kip.
"What are you doing in here?"
Neville jerked in surprise, opening his eyes to see another boy sitting beside him, glaring at him suspiciously. Neville gaped at the boy then shut his mouth quickly.
"Sorry, I didn't see you when I came in. Er - do you mind if I sit here?"
The other boy was silent, but his eyes widened at Neville's request. Neville was perplexed: he hadn't asked anything too out of the ordinary. Suddenly he grew nervous. Ahh, he's seen my scar, and doesn't want me to sit with him.
"Oh… well, sorry then," Neville stood up awkwardly. "I'll be going-"
"No! I mean, no, you don't have to go," the boy jumped up frantically at first, then seemed to compose himself. The boy took a deep breath, and Neville was again confused by his odd behavior.
"Please sit."
"Thanks."
The two boys sat and regarded each other carefully in silence, taking care to not let the other see. Neville realized that the boy had been in the compartment the whole time, curled up on the seat, and Neville had mistaken him for being a bundle of robes when instead he was merely wearing them. The boy's eyes looked a bit misty, as though he'd been crying recently, but the rest of his face was drawn into an impenetrable mask. His hair was so blond it could nearly be white, and the boy had a pale complexion that contrasted starkly with his dark, patched robes. Suddenly, their eyes met, and the boys stopped their investigations, Neville staring fixedly at the floor while the other boy looked out the window.
After another few minutes of silence, Neville was frustrated with himself. He was just another kid, like himself, and obviously even more scared of Hogwarts than he was. Talk to him, came his inner voice.
"I'm Neville, by the way," he said, holding out his hand and smoothing his hair down over his scar.
The other boy seemed dumbstruck for a couple of seconds and Neville was beginning to regret his bold move when the boy took his hand and shook it lightly.
"Draco."
Silence hung in the compartment. Neville wasn't quite sure what to make of his companion, and wished yet again that he was on the Valkyrie with Oscar. But after recalling Aunt Clare's encouraging thoughts about friends and fun at Hogwarts, Neville thought it might be worth a try.
"Like Quidditch any?" It was the first topic that came to mind. Neville himself was serviceable on a broom, but didn't much enjoy playing. Watching Quidditch, however, he did enjoy with great enthusiasm.
The pale boy turned to Neville, surprised yet again to have been addressed.
"Yeah. Yes. Falmouth Falcons. You?"
"Er, I don't really follow British club teams. Soft spot for the Pride of Portree though."
"Yes, The Prides are always competitive, even if they don't win. National team?"
"Um," Neville knew he wasn't supposed to reveal to people which country he lived in, "I like a few squads. Canada, Germany, Nepal's turning out to have a great year… and England, of course, though they're not doing so well. You?"
"Any of the teams from Britain, and France."
It was tentative, but a conversation had managed to take root, of course centered on the wizarding obsession that was Quidditch. The two boys had just managed to get into a discussion about the merits of the Scottish team, who had been performing horribly recently with losses to Andorra and Uruguay, but were far superior to the Welsh team and vastly outstripped the lowly English squad, when the compartment door opened.
A young girl with long black hair held back by a royal blue hairband entered, dragging a large trunk behind her with some difficulty, as a small cat riding on her shoulder seemed to inhibit her progress. The blond boy immediately leapt up to help the newcomer, which based on his earlier reticence, completely surprised Neville.
"Thanks, Draco. I've been looking for you for ages. Knew you'd be here somewhere," she said between breaths as they heaved the trunk onto the rack. She turned to Neville, and gave him a cool glance.
"Who are you?"
The young boy blushed slightly to be asked so directly by a girl his own age. "Er- I'm Neville Longbottom."
The girl stared at him for a moment, then flipped her hair over her shoulder and extended her hand, her blue-gray eyes regarding him seriously.
"Ariadne Black."
He shook it briefly, and the three first years sat down in the compartment.
"So… how do you know Draco?"
"Oh," she shrugged nonchalantly. Ariadne's cat made an elegant leap, stared hard in the direction of the sleeping Vali, and finally settled down in her lap quietly. "He's my cousin, more or less."
"Cousin?"
The girl rolled her eyes. "I did mention that, yes, cousin. My father is the cousin of his mother."
"Really, Ariadne? A kitsune?"
Draco arched a brow and pointed at the contented creature. Neville took a second look at Ariadne's familiar: he'd thought it was a cat, but on closer inspection it was a ruddy-colored animal, closer to a fox than cat. Three bushy tails were the kitsune's only noticeable difference.
Ariadne smiled. "I went with Mum to Japan this summer, and found Momoe in this amazing menagerie. Bought her with my own pocket money." She scratched the kitsune's ear, Momoe stretched her neck and let out a musical purr of contentment.
"Now then," and here the girl rustled through her bag and pulled out a book, "I just got this yesterday from Mum as going-away present, and I'd like to continue reading it, if you don't mind."
Neville craned his head to read the title: Self-Defensive Spellwork by M.A. Testudo. He looked at Draco, and both boys shrugged. Draco sank back down in his seat, but looked far less glum than before. Neville pulled out his worn copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi; he never got tired of Herbology, and they were on the train to school after all.
They sat in silence for a while, Ariadne intently reading, Draco staring out the window, and Neville thoughtfully contemplating his book. Not fifteen minutes had passed when…
"Excuse me, but have you seen a kitten?"
The door to the compartment burst open, and a bushy-haired girl with rather prominent front teeth immediately leapt into an interrogation. A meek girl with strawberry-blonde hair quietly crept up behind her as she continued.
"She's a Calico British Shorthair, with black and orange on her paws. Susan missed her since we got onto the train, and we're asking everyone we see. Are you first years as well? We are, terribly exciting to be here I'd say. And you're reading! How wonderful! I do think the curriculum looks incredibly challenging, but manageable, I've read all the coursebooks three times and know them by heart. But that wasn't on the course list, was it? Self-Defensive Spellwork, goodness I know I didn't pick that one up! Oh, this is Susan Bones, and I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
It all came out rapid fire, and the two boys blinked and looked at each other stupidly, while Ariadne barely lifted her eyes from her book. Neville figured he could at least introduce himself and be polite, even if he hadn't gotten anything else she was saying other than her name.
"Neville Longbottom." He looked at Draco, who didn't seem keen to introduce himself but did so.
"Draco Malfoy."
"Malfoy?" Hermione's mouth had opened to say something, but the voice came from behind her. Susan was eyeing Draco with no small amount of fear and anger.
"Yes," was Draco's weary, reluctant reply.
"Is there a problem?" Neville asked mildly. In the corner, Ariadne raised her piercing blue-gray eyes and narrowed them at the girls dangerously.
"Come on, Hermione. They haven't seen anything. Let's go."
Susan quickly stepped through to the next compartment. Hermione quickly shut her mouth and followed her friend, but not before throwing a wide-eyed look at Neville.
As the compartment door clicked shut, Draco sighed and put his head against the window again. Ariadne was gazing sympathetically at her cousin, alternated by rapid dark glares at the door the girls had gone through.
"What was that about?" Neville asked.
"Nothing at all," Ariadne quickly answered sharply. "It's not important-"
"It's me," Draco said softly. "Or more accurately, my name."
Again, Neville was perplexed. "What's wrong with your name?"
Draco kept his eyes on the floor, while Ariadne looked apprehensive.
"My father is in Azkaban. He was on the wrong side in the war," and here Draco's voice became tight, "and he was arrested and sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life."
"When he was imprisoned, everything we had was confiscated for war reparations. My mother and I had nowhere to turn: no one would have anything to do with us. And my mother's family wouldn't take us in either," he said with his eyes flickering on Ariadne.
She sighed and stretched out her hand, squeezing the pale boy's hand in her own.
"That's because my family and their friends can be as ignorant and shortsighted as the pureblood enthusiasts they hate so much. But you've always had Mum and me, and I think Aunt Andromeda is coming around."
Draco managed a weak smile at her, and then looked at the floor yet again.
"Everyone knows, so you may as well know too," he said quietly, addressing Neville. "I'd understand if you wanted to move to a different compartment."
The whole conversation was over Neville's head, and he had a feeling he was missing vital information about British wizarding society. He shook his head, he couldn't very well leave now! The boy was obviously distressed and embarrassed about the whole situation, and hadn't Aunt Clare told him that children were not their parents?
"I'm comfortable where I am."
Ariadne shot him a grateful smile, while Draco continued looking at the floor. Awkward silence descended upon the trio, until a trolley witch arrived with a cart full of pastries and sweets. Neville took the opportunity to buy three of everything interesting and share with the two cousins.
The tension had finally lessened, and Draco was finally animated as the boys and Ariadne tried successively more disgusting Bertie's Beans. They had collapsed in laughter as Draco bravely tried a green speckled bean, which he promptly spat out panting, labeling it "toad".
"It's a riot though, isn't it? My younger brother Zeph adores them, eats them three at a time to achieve 'maximum flavor awesomeness' as he puts it," Ariadne giggled.
"Oh, you have siblings?" Neville asked politely.
"Yes, and unfortunately more than just one," the girl grumbled. "I've got a baby sister, Maia, who is four and sweet as can be, until she doesn't get her way. Then there's Zephyrus, Zeph, he's seven and just fantastic. And then I have a younger sister who thinks she is queen of the ten year olds. Hypatia… she'll be at Hogwarts next year, Merlin help us all."
Neville chuckled quietly, and looked at Draco who seemed a bit downcast. It didn't take a huge leap for Neville to figure out why.
"I don't have siblings either," he said quietly, and Draco snapped his head to look at him. "I do have two cousins that I get along well with, like you have Ariadne."
Draco nodded. Ariadne smiled at Neville in response.
Suddenly the compartment door slid open. It wasn't the bushy haired girl, or her rude friend. Instead, it was a gangly redheaded boy and a black-haired boy with glasses and bright green eyes. The atmosphere changed immediately: Ariadne sat back in her seat and opened her book again, though there was a challenge and irritation in her expression while Draco slunk a bit in his corner, looking at the newcomers with some dread.
"They've been saying Neville Longbottom is in this compartment," the redhead said excitedly. He looked directly at Neville. "You're him, aren't you?"
Blushing slightly at being addressed in such a way, Neville nodded.
"Blimey!" The redhead turned to his friend. "The twins thought it was a prank, The Boy Who Lived coming to Hogwarts. Imagine how jealous they'll be when we tell 'em we've seen him, Harry!"
The black-haired boy named Harry made a noncommittal noise.
"You look a lot bigger in all the books," he said to Neville.
"Can we see the scar?" the readhead asked excitedly. Neville sighed, and pushed his hair off his forehead, where the lightning bolt scar lay.
"Wicked," the two boys breathed.
"Can you remember anything about You-Know-Who?" Harry asked.
"What, Voldemort?" Neville asked.
The two boys looked scandalized and frightened, while Draco winced. Ariadne shot a surprised look at Neville, but turned her eyes back to the newcomers.
"Are you barking? Don't say the name, mate!" The redhead hissed.
"Only the most powerful and brave of wizards say You-Know-Who's name," Harry added. "Like my dad, James Potter, one of the bravest Aurors in the Ministry, and a true Gryffindor. Just like me."
Ariadne snorted disdainfully, and Harry turned to look at her.
"Alright Ari, laugh now, but you're definitely going to be one too."
"Please don't call me that ridiculous name," she said witheringly.
"Whatever, Ari. Me, Dad and Uncle Sirius know you'll end up in Gryffindor anyway."
Neville looked at her questioningly, but the girl took no notice. She closed her book with a scornful look at Harry.
"And Jack and Mum are picking her old house of Ravenclaw, but Hypatia is going with Hufflepuff out of spite."
Ariadne delivered this in a drawling voice that Neville suspected she was deliberately playing up. Harry exchanged a shocked glance with the redhead.
"Yes, I know about the little wager. And guess what, Potter? My Galleons are with the smart choice, and your mum agrees: Slytherin."
Harry Potter and the redhead made disgusted faces. "No way you'll be a slimy snake, right Ron?" The gangly boy named Ron nodded vigorously.
Harry then turned his gaze on the very quiet Draco in the corner, who looked up fearfully but defiantly.
"Not like this scum over here. How can you even stand talking to him, Ari?"
"He's my cousin and my friend, Potter. And unlike much of my family or yours, I don't have problems with people based on their circumstances."
Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, "Mental, absolutely mental." Harry meanwhile turned back to Neville.
"Believe me, you don't want to be friends with the likes of him," the boy said jerking his thumb at Draco. "I'm happy to help you there," he said extending his hand.
Neville looked back at the boy, but made no move to shake the offered hand. "I'm pretty sure I can decide who I want to be friends with for myself, thanks."
Potter blinked at Neville, then recovered with a smirk. "Look, Longbottom, everyone knows you haven't lived in Britain for a long time. You're bound to be behind, but hanging out with Slytherin snakes will do you no good in the end."
His friend the redhead broke in with glee, "All of 'em, they're all dangerous, poisonous snakes. Slimy, sneaking scum, like father, like son."
Draco's eyes flashed, and quicker than Neville thought possible, he was on his feet with his wand in his hand, pointed straight at Ron. Harry wasn't much slower behind him, with his wand out pointed directly at Draco.
"Say that again, Weasley," Draco said, his voice shaking a little bit. "Say that again, and I'll show you how dangerous I can be."
"Draco," Ariadne said warningly. Ron had his wand out, but was not pointing it directly at Draco, though he was wary. Neville stood up too, wand in his hand but not pointing it at either intruder.
Harry smiled. As placid a person as he normally was, Neville was becoming incredibly irritated by these fellow first-years.
"Don't try to hide it, Ari. He's ready to curse us all, showing his true colors. See, Longbottom? It's no use trying with the likes of him. He's a Slytherin alright, and there's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."
At that Ariadne stood up from her seat in the compartment, her wand now in her hand but pointing up, not at anyone in particular. With a furious look on her face, she advanced on Harry and Ron.
"Hmmm, not one evil witch or wizard that wasn't from Slytherin?" She tapped her temple with a finger, furrowing her brow in mock concentration.
"Funny that. How quickly you forget Wormtail, was a Gryffindor."
She spat the name out distastefully, but never took her eyes from the dark-haired boy, who grew pale.
"Don't even try to explain that one, your hypocrisy will shine through it all. Now get out of our compartment."
She kept her wand pointing up, but made a small, complicated wave with it and said firmly, "Repello Inimicum."
Harry tried to take a step towards Ariadne, mouth open in protest, but shut it quickly and stopped abruptly. He scowled at the gobsmacked Neville and Draco.
"C'mon, Ron. Let's get back to the twins and Lee."
As the compartment door slammed behind them, Neville and Draco both let out audible sighs of relief. Ariadne stowed her wand in her pocket, and sat back down in her seat. Her cat/kitsune Momoe settled back into her lap as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and she returned to the pages of Self-Defensive Spellwork.
"What was all that, Ariadne?" Draco asked as he sat back down near the window.
"It's a basic variant of the Repelling Spell. It will keep anyone away that might mean you harm," Ariadne said offhandedly, turning the page. She looked at Draco and Neville, and then gave a small smile.
"I actually just read about it, but it seemed like a good way to get out of all that without a fight on the Hogwarts Express."
"Good thing too," Draco inclined his head out the window. "Because we're nearly there."
In spite of himself, Neville clambered over to the window with Draco, Ariadne hovering just behind. He could see mountains and forest, and the train seemed to be slowing slightly, but he couldn't see the castle.
"How do you know we're almost there?"
"My mum," Draco replied, and Neville could hear his voice soften, "she told me what to look for on the train to know if we were close."
As though confirming Draco's account, a voice resounded through the train.
"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
Neville's stomach did quick flip-flops of anxiety. Hogwarts… this was it!