Neville did not eat much at lunch that day. He was still a bit bothered by the extreme letdown that was Gilderoy Lockhart. He also felt a bit guilty about abandoning Hermione. Neville wondered whether he ought to apologize when he next saw her. She had not yet come to eat, which worried Neville. What if all the pixies were too much for Hermione? What if she had been injured? Neville looked up at his friends, surprised to find them looking curiously back at him.
Harry sighed and put his fork down. "Neville, what is it now? You're not eating anything, what's up?" He looked a bit exasperated, as though Neville was altogether too melodramatic.
Neville was not sure what to say. If he told his friends about his worries concerning Hermione, he would certainly be teased and ridiculed. He felt it best to keep such fears to himself. "It's just….. I expected Lockhart to be a good wizard. But he's not at all."
Ron nodded, clearly feeling the same way. "Makes you wonder what's real and what isn't." He said grouchily. Neville agreed quickly, glad his friends were not going to delve more deeply into the cause of his brooding.
At last, to Neville's immense relief, Hermione Granger entered the hall. Her robes appeared slightly disheveled, and her hair much frizzier than usual. Her face was flushed, and Neville wondered whether it was from pleasure or anger. He noticed Hermione glance at him, and gave her a weak smile, which she did not return. Neville dropped his gaze and finally began to eat, feeling much better, although Hermione seemed a bit irritated.
The hall began to clear as students proceeded to their afternoon lessons. Neville continued to eat, desperately hoping that if he did not think about History of Magic, the lesson would disappear altogether. His effort was ruined as Harry glanced at his watch and cried out in alarm. "History of Magic is starting in two minutes!" He exclaimed, his voice nervous.
Harry and Ron stood up at once, ignoring the food left on their plates. Neville took one last bite of toast, then collected his books and followed. "If we run, we'll just make it." Ron said doubtfully, not believing his own pronouncement.
"Of course we will!" Harry exclaimed as they left the Great Hall, appearing altogether much too confident for such a situation. The three boys began to run, tearing down the nearly-empty corridor. Neville ignored his full stomach, which was clearly unhappy with the sudden exercise, for they would surely be caught and punished if late.
Suddenly, Neville heard someone shout his name from nearby. Harry muttered for him to just keep running, but Neville felt obliged to halt. He did not know who had called him, but if it was a teacher, running would surely result in punishment. Neville waved Harry and Ron forward, feeling as though they should not be late on his account. Harry nodded and continued to run at once, not looking back. Ron gave a sympathetic smile, then followed close behind.
Neville turned around, then cursed quietly under his breath. Professor Lockhart was walking down the hall, smiling and waving as though it were filled with admirers. Neville assumed he must have changed after the pixie incident, for his robes were once again neat, and now a long, flowing ice blue. Lockhart's hair once again looked perfectly combed and styled, with not a strand out of place. His dazzling smile appeared as bright and cheerful as Neville had ever seen. Neville briefly considered turning around and darting after his friends, but then remembered Lockhart was still a professor, and did, therefore, have the ability to punish students.
Lockhart strolled casually over to Neville, clearly oblivious to the fact that classes were about to start. He gave a dazzling smile, which Neville did not return. "I'm so glad I caught you, Neville!" He exclaimed. "I wanted to speak with you in class this morning, but I knew all your little friends would be jealous of the attention from such a famous wizard."
Neville did not know what to say to the pompous professor, so he kept silent. Lockhart did not seem to mind, and continued to talk in his loud, egocentric manner. "Anyhow, I heard about your little incident on the train… Oh Neville, I knew right away that it was just a ploy for attention. You thought having a little adventure by yourself instead of taking the train would bring lots of little admirers. Tut tut, so obvious. Your fame from beating You-Know-Who is wearing thin, and you wanted a new excuse for people to like you." Lockhart shook his head in a patronizing manner.
Neville frowned, for Lockhart obviously had the wrong idea. He felt as though it were necessary to explain himself. "P-professor, I don't care about fame, honest! My friends like me anyways!" Though Neville felt a pang of uncertainty with this pronouncement, he did not amend his statement. He obviously was less talented than Harry and Ron, so they must know his fame was all luck, and were not friends with him because of it.
"Oh Neville, you need to stop being quite so naïve about friends!" Lockhart exclaimed, chuckling. "As much as you might try to believe yours like you for what's in your heart, or some other absurd reason, it simply isn't true. Why, people want to make friends with those who are famous, like me! I get a hundred letters every day from people who are convinced they are my best friends. It's all fame and good looks. Well, must just be the fame in your case, but you understand."
Neville found he did not know what to say. He had a suspicious feeling Lockhart had just insulted him, but was not sure, for the man had been talking relentlessly for quite a while, and Neville had not been listening very closely. He gave Lockhart a blank stare, which was returned with a dazzling smile.
"Well now, Neville, I'm very glad we had this little heart-to-heart. Just remember, fame is not nearly as effective when forced. However, you must also keep in mind that large acts of bravery are much more impressive than small ones. Why, if I had just defeated You-Know-Who, rather than the Wagga Wagga Werewolf, I wouldn't be nearly so famous." Lockhart gave a loud chuckle, as though amused by the idea of simply beating Voldemort. "So remember Neville, be impressive, but do not be obvious. And someday, you may be half as famous as me!"
With that cheerful pronouncement, Lockhart turned on his heel and swaggered down the hall, his ice blue robes billowing behind in a most magical fashion. Neville watched him leave, speechless. He was still a bit preoccupied. It was quite true, he did not want fame. It had simply found him, by sheer luck and nothing more. However, perhaps Harry and Ron had been attracted by that. Perhaps they would not want to be friends with Neville if he were normal. He had always imagined they did, but Lockhart, dimwitted as he was, did know a bit about fame.
Neville proceeded slowly down the hall to History of Magic. Somehow, he managed to creep in the door without attracting the attention of droning Professor Binns. Hermione Granger did give him a rather snooty look as he entered, but Neville was quite used to that by now. He took an empty seat quickly, and used the rest of the lesson to ponder Gilderoy Lockhart's unsettling advice.
Neville was extremely quiet for the rest of the evening. After class finally ended, he refrained from sharing the details of Lockhart's lecture with his friends, though they pressed him several times. Neville felt as though they would try to dissuade him from the possibility that Lockhart could be right, in order to make him feel better, when his pronouncement really could be the truth. Neville continued to be silent throughout dinner. Harry did a spectacular impression of Binns' dull manner of lecturing, but Neville could not manage more than a weak smile. He simply could not manage to get the nagging suspicion of reality out of his head.
Thankfully, as the night wore on, Harry and Ron did not seem to notice his lack of participation in their conversations. Neville felt slightly hurt by this, for they were supposed to be his very best friends, but also relieved that they were not prying. He chose to go to bed early that night, rather than spend an awkward evening in the common room with his friends.
Neville proceeded up the steep narrow staircase to his dormitory, altogether too caught up in his thoughts to acknowledge the ache in his legs from the long climb, or the pounding in his head. He collapsed in bed, expecting to quickly drift off to sleep, but found he could not. Neville lay quietly in bed as the other four boys prepared to sleep. He thought he heard a bit of muttering between Harry and Ron, and suspected it might possibly be about him. Neville wondered what they were saying, but did not want to ask.
The dimly lit room grew darker as the night wore on, the candles melting lower and lower. The boys drifted off to sleep one by one, their breathing growing loud and steady, until only Neville remained awake. He could not stop thinking about Lockhart's pronouncement. Could it possibly be true that Harry and Ron had befriended Neville for his fame? Neville tried to recall the day he had first met Harry and Ron. They had been fascinated by his defeat of Voldemort, yes, but they had not dwelled on it much. But perhaps they had not wanted Neville to grow suspicious of their friendship. Neville recalled a conversation with Dumbledore from the previous year, when he had learned Harry and Ron's deepest desires. Harry had wanted to be praised and popular, and Ron had wanted to make his family proud. Surely having a well-known friend would make Harry's own accomplishments less fascinating among peers, and Ron's less significant to his family. Or perhaps they had known what Neville did not; that more adventures would come at Hogwarts, and Harry and Ron, as Neville's friends, would likely be a part of them. Neville's heart sank, realizing it could be true, yet not wanting to believe it.
Suddenly, he sat up in bed, realizing an important bit of information. If it were true, then Harry and Ron would surely stop being friends with Neville if he did not continue to do adventurous things, and save the world from Voldemort. Though, admittedly, they might not be the best friends at all if they only wanted Neville's fame, they were the only friends he had. Though they might want more than just a friend from Neville, they were still extremely sincere and kind to him, which was all he had dreamed of in a friend. Neville made himself a promise; he would have an adventure that year. He knew it would be the only way to insure his friendship, if Harry and Ron really did only care about the fame. Neville did not know what the adventure would be, or what danger would be involved, but he was determined to find something, anything at all, to impress his friends.
Neville fell back on his pillow, suddenly tired. As he began to drift off to sleep, he heard a strange whispering noise. The voice was rasping and soft, though echoing a bit at the same time. It sounded quite ethereal to Neville, though he was not, admittedly, paying much attention to it.
"Come to me….. Let me rip you….. Let me tear you…... Let me kill you…...… Come…..…. Come…"
Neville continued to drift off to sleep, sure the strange voice was a figment created by his overly exhausted mind, although he could not imagine why. Hogwarts was a safe place; there was obviously not a killer creeping around. Neville fell asleep quickly, forgetting the mysterious voice altogether.