Neville looked at the broken shards in despair, unsure what he could do in an attempt to remedy the situation. Before he could even make a decision, however, his grandmother arrived through the fireplace. The green tongues of flame lit up the now-dark room, scaring Neville. His grandmother stared angrily at the remains of her lovely ornaments. She appeared to be slightly tipsy, and Neville felt a sliver of hope enter his body. Perhaps his grandmother would not be coherent enough to punish him.
However, like most difficult situations Neville encountered, his hopes were not to be reality. Neville's grandmother appeared quite sober enough to understand the severe amount of damage, and who had obviously caused it. "You!" She shouted angrily, her wrinkled face scarlet with rage. Neville felt very scared. Although he knew his grandmother would never cause lasting harm to her grandson, she was quite strict, and would not hesitate to punish Neville.
Neville felt as though he ought to speak, to explain the situation. "Gran, it wasn't me, honest!" He said loudly, hoping with all his heart his grandmother would listen. Alas, she did not.
"If it wasn't your fault then whose was it? Did you have those rabble-rousing friends of yours over without my permission? How dare you!"
Neville felt his heart stop. He had not even considered that his grandmother might blame Harry and Ron, though it obviously was not them, for they were away. He did not know what to do. What if she forbid him from seeing them again? "Gran, it wasn't them, they're on holiday, so it couldn't have been!" Neville said nervously, hoping his grandmother would not mistake his tone for guilt.
"Plates don't just fall on their own accord, Neville Longbottom! You used magic, I see your wand right there in your hand!" His grandmother appeared to be hitting her stride, for she continued to shout shrilly without a moment's rest.
A sinking feeling in his stomach, Neville looked down. He had forgotten that he was still carrying his wand. It felt so long ago that Neville had chosen to bring it along on a quest for his letters, for security purposes. He realized how extremely guilty he must appear, holding his wand and all. "Gran, please, I didn't use my wand!"
"That's what all the underage wizards say! Give it here, now! You will not be leaving the house until the start of school! And no letters, either! I refuse to allow you the satisfaction of having contact with your troublemaking friends!" Neville reluctantly held out his wand, which his grandmother snatched at once. She then stormed ferociously out of the room, Neville trailing behind.
Though he was confined at home for the rest of the summer, Neville felt oddly relieved. He suspected Dobby had hoped for a much worse punishment, namely a refusal to allow Neville to return to Hogwarts. He felt quite thankful, for there were only two weeks more until the start of term, and a return to normal wizard society. Though it would be quite difficult, Neville knew he could wait.
Neville spent the next days trying very hard to be a meek and mindful grandson. His grandmother assigned him multiple tasks to finish each day, which Neville gladly carried out, grateful for something to take his mind off the long wait before September the first.
At last, one week before the start of term, Neville's Hogwarts letter arrived, informing him of the new books he would need to purchase. They all appeared to be by the same author, Gilderoy Lockhart, of whom his grandmother was quite fond. She was in a quandary. If she left Neville home, he could, perhaps, cause more trouble. However, if his grandmother brought Neville along, it would go against the punishment she had set. Neville waited impatiently for her answer, hoping beyond all hope that she would allow him just one day out, one chance to talk to his friends, to have a bit of enjoyment. It took his grandmother several days to reach a decision; Neville would be allowed to go.
Neville was thrilled. His grandmother always followed through with her punishment; this was a very rare treat indeed. He was determined not to cause even the slightest bit of trouble, to prove to his grandmother that the broken ornaments were not his fault, and that he should not be punished. Neville hoped desperately that behaving on such an eventful journey would redeem the trust his grandmother had lost in him.
They left by floo powder the very next morning. Neville quite enjoyed the spinning experience of soaring through fireplaces in this instance, for it signified the beginning of his day of freedom. He grinned as he stepped out of a dirty fireplace and into the dark, warm, humid Leaky Cauldron. His grandmother stood uncomfortably close by, tapping her foot impatiently.
"Come on now, this isn't a day to dawdle." She said curtly, weaving her way through the crowded pub to the back entrance. Neville followed behind, trying very hard not to trip over any legs or feet. They emerged into the bright sunshine that often accompanies late summer days. Neville looked up, basking in the warmth, as his grandmother tapped the magical brick which allowed them entrance into the wizarding wonder that was Diagon Alley.
Though Neville's grandmother had eyes only for what Neville needed to buy, her grandson felt many urges to dawdle. Though he had been in Diagon Alley once before, it had been an entire year ago, which felt to Neville like an eternity. He desperately wanted hours, days even, to explore the fascinating shops that lined the many cobblestone streets. However, he did not feel as though it were a very good day to beg for such an adventure, and resignedly followed his grandmother quickly from store to store.
Neville trailed behind his grandmother as she bought him new potions ingredients from the Apothecary and had him fitted for new robes. Neville thought he saw his friends everywhere; he constantly thought he had spotted a flash of Ron's bright red hair, or the glint of Harry's glasses. He felt as though he were being tortured. Neville's friends were so close, or so he believed, but not quite close enough to allow Neville to feel completely content once again. His only hope was that he might, perhaps, have a moment to speak to them in Flourish and Blotts, which was their last stop for the day.
Neville led the way into the packed bookstore, attempting to casually scan the crown for his friends while still staying with his grandmother. He could not find them anywhere, and gave up, following his grandmother into the mass of people waiting to see someone. Neville did not know who.
Neville stood in the herd of people, his foot being stood on by a young and breathless witch. He felt quite uncomfortable, and wondered why his grandmother was just standing excitedly by. The room was filled with the noise of shoppers, comparing their purchases and describing things they wanted to buy.
At last, a very flashy man entered the room from behind very large stacks of books. The room grew quiet at once. For a moment, Neville panicked, thinking the man was the dreaded Professor Exanimis who had taught at Hogwarts the previous year. He sighed in relief as the man turned around, revealing himself to be altogether quite different, though admittedly, he did have a similar fashion sense. He had very neatly combed blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and a very wide, dazzling smile. His robes were a brilliant fuchsia. Neville could hear sighs of longing all around; they made him feel quite uncomfortable. He found himself being pulled forward along with the crowd; everyone trying desperately to meet the clearly-famous man. Neville tried desperately to escape the moving mass, but found himself just being pushed closer and closer to the front, until he at last stood directly opposite the still-smiling man.
"Could it be?" The man exclaimed loudly, staring at Neville with a mix of admiration and excitement. "Neville Longbottom?" He practically shouted his name, and Neville wished desperately that he were back in the crowd, hidden from view. The man pulled Neville out of the crowd, which became quiet once more, sensing the man wanted to speak.
"Neville Longbottom has come to meet me, Gilderoy Lockhart! The Boy Who Lived meets the bestselling author of Magical Me, among other fantastic titles!" He paused to look around at the crowd, who seemed impressed. Neville was relieved to finally know who the man was, for he had heard his grandmother mention Gilderoy Lockhart on occasion, and even remembered that his new required books were by him. Neville also felt quite uncomfortable, for he did not like being the center of attention for any reason. Gilderoy continued to speak. "Well, young Neville, let me make your day! This year, you and your classmates will not only be reading my fantastical books, but you will be taught by the one who made them all possible; me! Yes yes, I will be teaching at Hogwarts this year! But not to worry, I will still be around to save the day, should any difficult situations arise elsewhere!" Lockhart winked at the crowd and gave a deep bow. Neville heard sparse applause, which appeared to be coming mainly from the witches in the shop.
At last, after posing reluctantly for several photos with Gilderoy Lockhart, Neville slipped away, back to his grandmother. He found he standing by a wall, clutching a stack of books. She appeared to be a bit breathless.
"I hope you enjoyed that! Gilderoy Lockhart is a hero!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed. Neville had never seen his grandmother so taken with somebody, especially one so young.
"Erm, yeah." He said, trying to appear as though he had enjoyed the experience. "I think I'm ready to go, though." Neville gave another look around the shop as he and his grandmother made their way towards the door. He could have sworn he saw Ron's bright hair again, and perhaps Draco Malfoy's blonde head as well. They appeared to be having a bit of a tussle. Neville greatly wished to be with his friends, to know what was going on. He left reluctantly, casting one last longing gaze inside.
Neville followed his grandmother unenthusiastically down the now-quieter street. Dusk was approaching, and many shoppers had left for the day. Neville looked one last time around the breathtaking street as he and his grandmother returned to the Leaky Cauldron. It had not been the day of freedom he had hoped, and left Neville longing for Hogwarts, and his friends, more than ever before.