The Hogwarts express was chugging through the countryside with quiet enthusiasm. Steam from the engine billowed past windows overseeing the rolling hills of Scotland, somewhat blocking out the chatter of children. But it was impossible to truly deafen such an all-encompassing babble. Students all the train over were excitedly talking about summer plans and the like, and Neville's compartment was no different. He was sat with Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, and her twin sister from Ravenclaw, Padma.
Noticeably, Neville was sitting away from the recently dubbed Golden Trio. Though his anger towards them had simmered after the end-of-the-year feast quite a bit, he still wasn't ready to share a long train ride with them. It was better for everybody's health.
"We're going back to India for the summer," Padma said. Parvati nodded lazily in agreement from her seat, acknowledging that the statement occurred, but too caught up in the magazine she and Lavender Brown were sharing. "Mother wants us to get to know our cousins better."
"How good is your Hindi?" Neville asked. He didn't know much about India and knew less about the Patil sisters – they just didn't interact much outside of schoolwork – but he felt it was a polite enough question.
"Not good at all," she admitted with some shame. "Our family originally comes from Maharashtra, and they mainly speak Marathi there. Father expected us to know both English and Marathi, but never Hindi. I only know a little because of personal interest."
"Because she's a nerd!" Parvati jeered. Padma didn't seem to mind that ribbing, even preening a little.
"Proudly." She said with plenty of smugness. Parvati scoffed and Lavender giggled at their byplay. That earned her an elbow from her seatmate, and a small tiff broke out between them.
Seamus, smartly, ignored them. "I'll be helping my dad in his shop most of my summer. He got his hands on an Austin Healey 3,000 back in March and he wants it to be a show car. Me and Fergus, my cousin, he is, on my mum's side, so he's a wizard, he'll be with us and we'll helping out where we can."
Dean whistled, impressed. "Seen those cars in the paper before. They go for a lot, don't they?"
"Yeah," Seamus nodded, looking a little bewildered. "No idea how dad got one. He's always had a project car or two to play with, but never anything like this one. From the way his letters go though, it's not in good shape. Probably be another couple of years before it's good for shows."
"He is a mechanic though, so he might know some folk that can help." Dean mused. Neville hadn't known Seamus's dad was a mechanic. He wasn't his best friend either though, so it wasn't all that unexpected. Why talk about your mechanic father when surrounded by the magic of Hogwarts? Hermione certainly never really talked about her parents either. He only vaguely knew they were involved with dentistry.
Seamus shrugged. "It'll be interesting, if nothing else."
"Better than what I'll be doing." Dean groused. "I'm stuck babysitting the sprogs all summer."
"How many siblings do you have?" Neville asked.
"Six sisters. Oldest is ten, youngest is two."
"Six?" Neville asked, boggled. How did people have that many children and not go barmy?
He paused, remembering that the Weasley's too have seven children.
…Maybe the Weasley's and the Thomas's were already barmy? It'd explain the way the twins acted, if nothing else.
"Six," Dean acknowledged, slumping. "I love 'em, I do. But I know it's coming. Mum even told me in her last letter that she'd need the help when I got back. Doubt there'll be much time for me to do anything fun this summer."
"Well," Seamus began, putting a finger at his chin. "Why don't you come to my place for a few weeks then? Get away from your sisters, play with dad's new car, maybe do some flying. It'll be grand."
"You'll let me?"
"I'll ask, at least." Seamus said.
"Wicked!" Dean beamed. The two then began to gush over how great it'd be if they could spend their summer together. Neville felt a small smile grow over his face at their interactions. They were good blokes.
"Do you know what you'll be doing for the summer, Neville?" Padma asked, noticing his look.
"Not really," Neville admitted, turning towards her. "Doubt it'll be much. My grandma is a homebody and most of her friends are on our street, so she rarely travels. I'll probably have to make my own fun."
"You should spend time with Hermione then," Lavender said, eyes sparkling. Neville didn't know what that look was about, and concluded he wasn't enthused by it. "I know she's going to be doing the same thing 'till her family goes on their vacation. She'd love it if you invited her over!"
"I dunno…" Neville parried. "My grandma's never let me have visitors before."
He'd never asked, either. The children from his muggle school were not among his favorite people, after all. But that was beside the point.
"Then you've got to ask her if you can come over!" Parvati butted in, looking similarly excited.
Neville backed into his seat cushion at their fervor, uncertain as to where this was coming from. Padma must have caught on to his being uncomfortable and pulled out a pack of exploding snap from her bag. Dean and Seamus immediately demanded a match, and Parvati and Lavender found themselves distracted from Neville in the wake of the loud card game taking place on the compartment floor. Quick enough, all six students were playing the game together, and smiles were common through the cart.
(o_=[-{+}-]=_o)
The train pulled into King's Cross Station with a screech of steam, and as Neville left his compartment with his trolley of supplies, his thoughts were racing.
He was anxious. Neville would admit that much. Even with the letter that Dorothy sent over Christmas stating that she'd try and support his love of magic, he was nervous to see her again. She hadn't sent any more letters since Christmas. Neville didn't blame her much, he was similarly bad with communicating, especially since he knew she wasn't a fan of owl mail.
Had she changed her mind? Had she stuck with her word? Questions upon questions of his soon-to-be reality kept bubbling up in his mind, and they would not leave.
So caught up in his thoughts, Neville didn't even notice when Hermione appeared until she tapped him on the shoulder.
Neville jumped at the touch, startled. "Hermione!" Neville whisper-shouted.
Hermione had the decency not to comment on his surprise, but she did sprout a smile over her face that was clearly teasing in nature. "Neville," she responded, her hands folded behind her back.
Hand on his heart, beating a quicker cadence than normal, Neville twisted to face her fully. "What is it? Everything alright?"
Her smiled disappeared as she shook her head. "Everything is not alright. You've been avoiding me."
"Comes with being body bound all night." Neville snarked. Did she think he would let bygones be bygones that easily?
"I said I was sorry!" Hermione cried out. "I couldn't undo the spell even if I wanted to. Ron and I were sent to the hospital wing and Madam Pomphrey put us to sleep. When I came to, you were already up and about."
"And what brought you two to the hospital wing for the night?" Neville asked, frustrated. "For that matter, why was Harry in there for three days? Why won't you three tell anybody anything? And why did Professor Quirrell mysteriously disappear the night you all went out?"
Hermione bit her lip in worry. "I'm not supposed to say."
"Says who?"
"Professor Dumbledore."
Neville paused at that. He didn't know the headmaster much at all, but he respected the man, as did most of the wizarding world. Neville especially had a soft-spot for the headmaster after learning he had been the one who gave Neville his vault key. If Professor Dumbledore specifically told Hermione not to talk about whatever happened on that fateful night, he understood her aversion to talking.
Still. He didn't like it.
"I'll make it up to you!" Hermione said, blubbering with broken composure. She looked near to tears. "I'll- I'll… I'll help you with your summer homework!"
The statement was so Hermione that Neville couldn't help but laugh. She stammered and pouted and hit his shoulder some more in response to his laughter, and that made Neville double down in his humor all the more. Tears sprouted from his eyes, and as Neville wiped them away, he came to the conclusion that he could forgive his friend for her transgression this time. He had missed this.
He'd find a way to get her back still. In time. Nothing as mean spirited as what she did to him, but a pranking wasn't out of the question.
Neville also quickly determined that though he was willing to give a second chance, there would be no third.
"How would you help me with it anyway?" Neville asked. "My grandma doesn't like owl post much."
"You live in muggle London, right? We could exchange telly numbers! Maybe even visit each other at some point."
"What part of London do you live in, anyway?" Neville asked. This was a topic they'd never discussed before, surprisingly enough. "I'm in Stoke Newington."
"Really?!" Hermione exclaimed, smiling brightly. "I live in Hampstead!"
Neville wondered what the odds were to that. They lived only eight kilometers away from one another. By train or bus, it'd take only a half hour to visit. With a car, it'd take even less time.
Hermione was very keen on that idea, it seemed. She rummaged through her own trolly and took out a small notepad with a pencil and jotted down her telly line and home address. Ripping out the page, she handed it to Neville, and then handed the notepad and pencil to him, expecting the same.
Plans were made as they disembarked from the train. They would try to meet up at some point within the next two weeks. Neville heard a short squeal from behind him and turned around to see Lavender Brown shooting him a thumbs up. Confusedly, Neville returned it. What was that about?
After their plans were made, Hermione rushed away to wish Ron and Harry a good summer, and Neville too found himself getting pats on the back from various Gryffindor students, still happy about his final points for the year.
When Hermione returned to Neville's side, the two exited the portal hiding platform nine and three-quarters and met up with their guardians. Dorothy swept Neville up into a hug the moment she saw him, and the tightness of her squeeze left Neville both breathless and content. He was worried about her for nothing, he found.
He was summarily introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Granger then, and Hermione was introduced to Dorothy Clawke. Neville could see where Hermione's looks came from. Her father was a man of an average height, with curly blonde hair and an oddly soft yet severe expression. Her mother was taller than her husband in her heels, with even curlier brown hair and eyes. They seemed nice enough to Neville.
Everybody hit it off relatively well it appeared, and Hermione's parents were quick to allow Neville to visit their home upon learning how close he lived.
Dorothy was undecided about Hermione coming over, which Neville contributed to her outdated beliefs about boys and girls playing together, but was willing to drive Neville to the Grangers when a date was chosen.
(o_=[-{+}-]=_o)
The trip back to 16 Prince George Road was not quiet.
Dorothy was happy to natter on about all the gossip Neville had missed in the year. How there were two sets of new neighbors, one of which moved in after an affair scandal was discovered and a divorce forced a family to move out. She spoke about a new golf course that had recently completed construction, as well as the horrid slights her gardening club were giving her azalea's. Neville oo'd and ah'd appropriately as Dorothy told her tales but couldn't find himself able to muster up the same enthusiasm she did.
Upon their return home, he immediately went for the trunk.
Neville had waved Dorothy away from helping him put his things into the car in the first place, and he waved her away again when he was taking his luggage out. He didn't want to burden her with his belongings. She wasn't a frail woman by any stretch, but Neville knew she was weakening with age, and the less stress placed upon her, the better.
When he entered the house, he was immediately surprised. Sat in the foyer was a bicycle, shiny and sleek and new, with a bright red bow wrapped along the handles.
"I felt bad about not having the chance to get you anything for Christmas," Dorothy said when she saw he noticed the bicycle. "It's nothing fancy, but it will get you where you want to go faster than your legs can take you."
"You didn't have to do this," Neville said, having difficulty with his words. Dorothy was not a gift giving type. She firmly believed that people knew what they wanted, and the best gift to be given was the money that would allow them to purchase said things they wanted.
"True," Dorothy acknowledged with a hum. She walked over to Neville and pulled him into a soft embrace. "I didn't have to. But I wanted to. I might not be able to get you a flying broom or dragon or anything-"
"Dragons are illegal to own," Neville helpfully pointed out.
Dorothy gave him a look. He quickly shut his gob. "Or anything magic. But, I can at least get you things boys your age should have around here. If I trust you to go off to a magical boarding school that I don't even know the whereabouts of, I can trust you to have a bike and go into London some more."
"Really?"
"You'll wear a helmet at all times!" Dorothy quickly exclaimed. "You'll have identification on you at all times as well, and if I don't want you to go out for whatever reason, be it the weather or an event or my just not wanting you to do so, you will do as I say."
Neville hugged her tight, unable to muffle his smile. "Thank you, grandma."
He really was glad to have been put in her care. Best thing Algernon Longbottom ever did, as far as Neville was concerned.
Dorothy huffed, sinking into him. "There's another benefit to this too, now that I think on it."
"What's that?" Neville asked. With his face pressed into her shoulder, his question sounded more like "Wufz dad?"
"If you ride around enough, you'll lose some of that pudge!"
Neville slumped.
That there's a way to ruin a moment.
(o_=[-{+}-]=_o)
Neville rang the bell of a four-story townhouse with nervous dread, matched by the looming grey clouds swirling overhead. June gloom was well in effect this summer. The bell dinged in a very old-fashioned way, and near immediately after ringing the bell, he heard a rush of footsteps from the other side. The door quickly opened, and he took in Hermione for the first time in ten days.
Naturally, considering it was only ten days since he last saw her, she hadn't changed much at all. The biggest differences were that she was in a yellow sundress, and that Hermione's hair was plaited back. It was the first time Neville had ever seen her calm her hair in any fashion outside of a ponytail or wear those types of clothes. He couldn't put his finger on why, but he did like it. It was nice.
"Welcome!" Hermione exclaimed, grabbing Neville by the arm and dragging him in. Hermione's house was pleasant and posh, and from the walls and walls of books in the living room, he could easily tell where her love of learning originated. Her parents were sat on a couch watching their telly, and they quickly muted their program to greet their daughter's friend.
Hermione happily gave Neville the grand tour of her home. First, she brought him to their kitchen, where a small tray of cookies were steaming with freshness. A rare treat, Hermione told Neville, considering her parents worked in a dental office. Neville happily snagged one. Then she took him up the stairs to see the sleeping quarters.
There were four bedrooms and three bathrooms in the house. One of the two extra bedrooms was a guest room, whilst the other had been converted into a joint study with a murphy bed in the event of even more guests. That was where Neville was directed to drop off his things. Neville saw through a window that behind the townhouse was a small yard lot with a pool covered in a protective barrier of black mesh.
Hermione showed Neville to her bedroom and proudly showed it off. It was both unexpected, and completely expected. Hermione's room was a simple thing, with a full bed with white sheets taking up its center and a row of dark wood dressers taking up the opposite wall. The room had been further split in two; one half dominated by ribbons and trophies of academic excellence, with the attributing assignments that had earned her such, whilst the other half was filled with Hogwarts paraphernalia, including one of her spare Gryffindor colored scarfs, a framing of at least one O in every class, and one of the banners Dean had made for quidditch. Neville knew his dormmate had wondered where that went. He'd not expected Hermione of all people to have been the one to take it.
The room, on either side of her bed, showed her love for magical and muggle academia alike, and Neville thought it suited her perfectly.
"I'll have to decorate similarly," Neville said, earning him a beaming smile. His room was much plainer. His bed was a simple twin and was tucked away in the corner of his room. He also had a dresser, and a moderately sized desk. The Clawke household didn't have the space for a study, so any studying needs had to be done in his own room. That was it.
Neville didn't really mind comparing his and Hermione's bedrooms. Everybody's circumstances were different, and nothing further really need be said. But it still felt a little odd to see such a clear economic disparity between him and Hermione.
He recognized that people made different choices in life. Dorothy's husband had been a pastor, and she wrote the occasional article for a local paper for income back in the day. They were comfortable, but not enough to purchase property. It was by inheritance alone that they were able to own a house.
The Grangers made more financially secure decisions. Mr. Granger was in truth Dr. Granger, owner of a dentistry that specialized in root canals, while Mrs. Granger was both a dental assistant at his practice and the manager and operator of the clinic. They worked odd hours, but by owning their business, they were able to reap fantastic benefits and take time off whenever they chose to spend time with their daughter or go vacationing in Europe.
Just being in this house, with these people, was a good reminder to Neville that he needed to look for an appropriate career path to follow. He wasn't going to chase after one before turning twelve, nor would he investigate one for years to come, but it was important to keep his future in mind.
Tour complete, Hermione brought him back to the study and the pair got to work on the summer slog.
They first charged at the challenges of charms, then parried the perils of potions, before finally turning the tables on transfiguration. Time flies when having fun, and though homework wasn't something Neville particularly considered fun, due to the fact that it was magic homework and he got to do it with his friend, time did indeed fly. Before they knew it had happened, five hours had come and gone.
They would have continued even further, had Mrs. Granger not made them stop.
The door had been left open, so she entered without any fuss. "It's time to take a break, you two." Mrs. Granger announced.
"But mum!" Hermione complained. "We were about to do Astronomy."
"Actually," Neville began, musing. "Wouldn't it be hard to do Astronomy right now? It's still cloudy out, right? Doesn't that mess with the enchantments on our telescopes?"
He didn't particularly know how clouds and the school assigned telescopes didn't get along, but he knew well enough that the telescopes didn't like looking at them. They would physically squirm away when pointed towards clouds, almost like a stunted snake. Professor Sinistra would cancel class and assign busy work when the skies were too overcast.
Hermione pouted. "Then we'll do Herbology and save Astronomy for later."
"You'll do them both later." Mrs. Granger drawled, ushering the children out. "There's plenty to do! You need to eat some food, first off. You could play a game, or watch some telly after. Go take a dip in the pool, even. But give your studies a rest, at least for now. You don't get to be children forever."
"I could swim." Neville said. Now that he heard her speak some more, Neville realized that Mrs. Granger had a faint accent. He couldn't place what kind though.
Mrs. Granger beamed his way, while Hermione took on an aggrieved face. Now that Neville saw them both looking his way, he found they didn't look much alike at all, actually. Their hair color and styles were similar, as were their skin tones, but that was where the similarities ended. Most of Hermione's looks must have come from her father.
"Fine." Hermione sighed, slumping. "Thirty minutes in the pool."
"Two hours." Mrs. Granger countered. Neville blinked. Were they negotiating break time?
"Forty-five minutes." Hermione quickly countered.
Was Hermione really negotiating for lesser amounts of break time.
"One hour." Mrs. Granger said.
"Done." Hermione allowed. They even shook on it. Both looked proud.
Neville laughed at the absurdity of it all.
(o_=[-{+}-]=_o)
Having not originally known that the Grangers had a pool, Neville hadn't brought clothes appropriate for swimming. Fortunately, Mr. Granger had some odd gym shorts that had a belt loop, and a long line of shoestring. The shorts tied tight to Neville's waist, and they wouldn't be going anywhere without some effort.
When he emerged from the changing room, he saw Hermione hadn't changed out of her dress at all.
"I was wearing a swimsuit for underwear," Hermione admitted, after Neville questioned her. "It's nicer sometimes."
"Wouldn't know." Neville said, shrugging. He was unashamed in that he wore tighty-whiteys. He was the only one in his dorm that didn't wear boxers. Everybody had ribbed him about it, even Harry did a bit.
Neville didn't particularly care. If it worked, it worked.
"That's truer than you realize." Hermione scoffed.
Not knowing what to say to that loaded statement, Neville instead pattered into the Grangers kitchen, where a plate of sandwiches were sat with two glasses of water. Snagging two, Neville happily began to scarf them down his gullet quicker than Hermione could finish her singular sandwich. The look of mild disgust she shot him was funny.
"I was wondering," Neville began, taking a swig of water. "Where's your mum from? I can't place her accent."
"Paris." Hermione answered, taking her last bite. "It's been years since she lived in France though, that's why it's hard to tell. Dad went to school there; that's how they met. We try to visit her side of the family every year. That's where we're going in a few weeks."
"So you can speak French?"
"Évidemment." Hermione harrumphed.
Not knowing her words meant, but understanding her expressions, Neville took it as an affirmative and left it alone. Late lunch complete, they made for the back yard. The pool was closed in and smelled strongly of chlorine, denoting it was properly maintained.
Neville quickly ran at the pool and jumped in, his body forming a cannonball. Water splashed throughout the patio, and as he came up, Neville smiled. He'd not been swimming in well over a year. Nearly two, actually. The last time had been when Dorothy took him to a public pool, after he'd finished private swimming lessons. That had been a nice day, Neville remembered. They went to a theater that same night. They watched a performance of Hamlet, if memory served. A good time, all around.
Hermione approached the pool at a more sedate pace than Neville did. The boy in question found himself blinking when, rather than make for the water, she instead turned about-face and marched over to a plastic patio chair. At the small table by its side was a laminated magazine labelled Private Eye. Hermione lied down on the chair, opened her spread, and shut the world out.
Neville was, naturally, baffled. The whole point of having a pool in your backyard was to use it. Especially when you had guests.
"Aren't you going to come in?" Neville asked.
"No, I'm fine." Hermione said without looking up. She turned a page. "You have your fun."
It'd be more fun if you joined in though, Neville thought.
He waded around in silence for a little while, then looked back into the house and saw both Mr. and Mrs. Granger looking at their daughter, palming their foreheads. They quickly noticed him looking their way, and Mr. Granger unsubtly pointed at Hermione, then pointed at the pool, making a splashing hand motion.
Translation: Get her in the pool.
Neville motioned back at him, miming the flipping through of a book, with an obviously questioning look.
Translation: What about the magazine?
Mr. Granger glared at the thing. He then pointed to a corner of his home, where a trashcan was.
Translation: It's garbage.
Well. There was nothing else to do, was there? And Neville had been keen on pranking Hermione, hadn't he?
Neville waded over to Hermione quietly. She had quickly engrossed herself in her read and wasn't paying him any mind. That worked in his favor.
Neville braced his legs against the wall of the pool, and once he felt his position was good, he quickly grabbed at the legs of the chair before Hermione could understand what was happening and pulled.
Hermione shrieked as she, and the chair she was sat upon, were hurled into the water.
The first thing that came out her mouth upon surfacing was a scream of "NEVILLE!" Following that, Hermione tried to swim over to her friend and get her revenge. Her dress was holding her back, however, and she shucked it off with some difficulty, revealing a purple one-piece swimsuit with white flower patterns. Free from her confines, Hermione immediately made to assault him.
Not in favor of being assaulted, Neville swam away. The chase thus began, and before long, Hermione lost her righteous anger and instead did something rarely seen of her person. She acted like the child she was and had a good time playing with her friend.
(o_=[-{+}-]=_o)
Neville had no way to know this, but it was this moment of Hermione acting a child that cemented his approval and endorsement from her parents.
They were of an older crowd for parents of such a young girl, both being in their mid-fifties. Mrs. Granger had given birth to Hermione at the age of 42, which was quite late for most women, and considering they had tried to conceive for the better part of a decade, the couple spoiled their little miracle with everything they thought she could want. Toys, games, vacations, whatever they thought would bring her happiness they would get for her. Within reason, of course. Hermione was blessedly a self-actualized child as it were, and only wanted for learning. The couple were happy to provide.
Friends were a different matter altogether.
The two had tried to desperately over the years to get their daughter to form lasting relationships with her peers, and it never seemed to work. She didn't take to sports clubs, playdates, theater, or music. Hermione was a stubborn girl that had difficulty doing things outside of what she wanted to do. That she wanted to study and learn was on paper a fantastic thing, especially for other parents looking in, wanting nothing more than for their own child to show such initiative.
The grass was greener from the other side. In reality, it made all forms of relationships quite a conundrum for Hermione, considering her fellow children weren't as enthusiastic about their scholastic pursuits, and she was unwilling to tolerate other activities seriously.
Resulting of this had not been bullying in a traditional sense – which the Grangers would have demanded be quickly handled based on the amount of money they spent on her private schooling – but a clear ostracization from her agemates. Hermione would seldom be included in activities with other children, and never had she been invited to go anywhere with a schoolmate. When Hermione made those feeble few attempts to invite others to do something at the behest of her parents, she was rejected with consistency.
Then came a professor proclaiming the existence of the supernatural, and everything changed.
Hogwarts had been her first foray into a schooling opportunity in which everybody was at a level playing field. More to the point for the Grangers, Hermione would actually be behind some students. With that in mind, they were more willing than most muggleborn parents to see her away, hoping she would finally have friends.
Seeing her now, inviting somebody to their home on her own initiative, actually playing with said somebody, shrieking and laughing and shouting as she was meant to do, made Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry worth all the money in the world to these two parents.
(o_=[-{+}-]=_o)
Neville had visited the Hermione and her parents a good handful more times over the summer. They'd completed their homework by Neville's third visit, and each subsequent visit after had been solely to spend time with his friend. He'd even ridden his bike there twice, and one of those times he was able to convince Hermione to go on a bike ride with him to explore Hampstead. Well, it was more that Mrs. Granger negotiated some sort of deal with her daughter once more, but the two still went out and had a good time. Her bike was of a higher quality than his was, as was expected, but Neville, even though he'd only been the owner of a bicycle for roughly a month, had been the better rider of the two.
Hermione hadn't been pleased about that once she learned. Too competitive, that girl was.
But that was then. This was now. The Grangers were off on vacation, visiting her cousins in Paris. She wouldn't be back for another week.
Neville was at the Clawke residence on this day, sat atop his own bed, a grouping of notes scattered around him. Occlumency notes.
He breathed in deeply, held the air in his lungs for a little while, and breathed out with a slow steadiness.
The first step of learning Occlumency the hard way, being through meditation rather than focused Legillimency blasts, was clearing the mind. Regarded by many as the hardest task in learning Occlumency, it was Neville's greatest initial barrier in the completion of his goals.
He struggled immensely at this task. He'd not had Occluding the Occult for more than a week before he was forced to return it to the Hogwarts Library for the summer, and though he'd been meticulous in taking notes knowing his check-out would be especially temporary, Neville hadn't been able to write down as much as he wanted to.
Which meant he essentially had to wing it.
One of the techniques emphasized from the book had been to focus all of his attention on a singular thing, rather than immediately clear his mind. Once nothing else took his attention, he would eventually remove his focus from that, and in theory, would have a clear mind.
Neville chose a lit candle wick. He focused on the image, made to feel as if he could honestly see a fire in his mind, and tried to force himself into a trance.
All this did was give the young wizard a headache.
"Neville!" Dorothy called, immediately breaking Neville out of his attempted trance. He cursed. "Supper!"
"Coming!" Neville hollered back.
He glared at his notes just before leaving the room. Neville couldn't help but itch to learn their secrets. With this skill, he'd be able to control accidental magic, and go on his way to becoming a strong wizard.
Neville knew where this desire came from. It all stemmed from the Longbottoms, as did most of his anxieties. They kicked him out because they thought he didn't have any magic, because his accidental magic hadn't shown itself off. If he learned this skill, then nobody could question his belonging in the wizarding world.
He would learn Occlumency.
(o_=[-{+}-]=_o)
July 30th marked Neville's twelfth year of existence. As was the case in the Clawke household, it was, while acknowledged, not highly celebrated. Dorothy liked doing things simple, and Neville too preferred that.
They went out for a bite to eat at a nearby deli and went for a movie. Batman Returns was being advertised, and so that was the movie they chose. Neville enjoyed the spectacle, but considering he'd never watched the previous entry into the series, he hadn't been able to fully embrace what they watched.
He also thought it a tad ridiculous, but wizards weren't known for sensibility, so he was able to ignore such thoughts.
Dorothy hated it with a passion. Too much destruction and wanton violence for her tastes.
Upon returning, Neville saw a few pieces of owl post conspicuously placed in the middle of his kitchen counter.
Most were simple letters from some friends acknowledging his birthday with offerings of best wishes. Dean, Lavender, Seamus, and Ron. They also took some time in their letters to talk about how their summers had been going.
Dean had been able to meet up with Seamus, and the pair spent most of their time together flying around, apparently. Lavender had been shadowing a storekeeper in Diagon Alley called Madam Malcom. Ron had been shunted with heavy chores by his mum but was kept busy and apparently enjoyed degnoming their garden. Whatever that meant.
His only present came from Hermione.
Hermione had at first congratulated him on his birthday, before explaining that she'd found his gift in Place Cachée, the magical section of Paris, by happy accident. The parcel that came with her letter contained a pair of blank, hardbound books; both colored a slate grey. Apparently, anything written in one would automatically show up on the other by way of some trickery with a protean charm, a term Neville had never heard of, but was determined to further research. They were common tools in the magical workforce used to relay information to people from long distances in a quick manner. For two Hogwarts students whose parents didn't much care for owls, it served as an alternative to mail.
Neville had been thrilled with the gift. Dorothy even more-so. They experimented with small doodles and messages written from opposite sides of the house and found that the books worked perfectly.
They would be able to talk during the school year!
Neville thought it was the second-best gift he'd ever received.
The bike that Dorothy got him wasn't going to be topped anytime soon.
(o_=[-{+}-]=_o)
When Hermione returned from vacation, she had immediately phoned Neville to tell him that she was going to go school shopping with Harry and the Weasley family. She wanted to know if he would like to join them.
Neville had been putting off getting his supplies. He was focused more on his Occlumency attempts, and riding around on his bike, and a variety of less important things that need not be mentioned.
He told her that'd be fine, and two days later, he and Hermione were nattering at each other from the back of Mr. Granger's Renault Clio. When they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, Tom the barkeep happily led them through the back and opened the way to Diagon Alley, its narrow cobble path and unique vibrancy bringing warmth to Neville.
As had happened when Professor Snape took Neville to the alley, the Grangers made Gringotts their first stop. When the foursome made way to the building, Hermione stopped on the white marble steps whilst her parents went inside. Curious, Neville turned around, and saw Hermione racing back down the stairs. Harry was there with some dark spots on his face, escorted by Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys. The Weasley men were sprinting their way too, Ron and Fred and George and Percy and another red-haired man who Neville could only presume to be their father.
Sedately, Neville walked over to the group, catching only part of their conversation.
"-re did you come out?" Ron asked.
"Knockturn Alley," Harry said, frowning grimly.
"Excellent!" Fred and George exclaimed together.
"We've never been allowed in," Ron informed Harry, looking a little jealous.
Hagrid growled. "I should ruddy well think not!"
Mrs. Weasley and the youngest of the brood, the only girl, whose name Neville didn't know, came into view then. The matriarch of the Weasley clan immediately focused her attention on Harry, wiping down his face with a rag pulled from her purse. Mr. Weasley took his glasses, tapped them with his wand, and returned them to the Potter scion. Repairing them in but a moment.
Hagrid then left the scene, back to wherever he'd come from, and Neville took his place. He greeted Harry and Ron briefly, and was then introduced to the Mrs. Weasley, "Molly dear!", Mr. Weasley, "Arthur, m'boy.", and Ginevra, "Ginny. It- It's Ginny." They gossiped about the Malfoy's in Borgin and Burkes and Mr. Weasley's desire to get Lucius Malfoy for something illegal, before moving back on to Gringotts.
Hermione's parents were standing nervously at one of the counters, exchanging their money for wizarding currency. Mr. Weasley enthusiastically made small talk with them, and Neville followed a goblin along with Harry and the rest of the Weasley clan to cart to the vaults.
His was the first vault visited, numbered 143. Neville grabbed some sickles and galleons and shoved them in his mokeskin pouch acting as his side bag, before looking around the vault again. Maybe he'd find a good gift for Hermione?
But no, there wasn't really anything else that he thought she might like. True, she'd appreciate gold and gems, but Neville had a feeling she'd sell them off to buy more books. He didn't mind giving her money for her birthday, but he'd rather try to find something a little more meaningful before going down that route. And he doubted she'd appreciate the knife collection littering the vaults, or that odd chalice that apparently was enchanted to turn all liquid poured inside blue. He would have to find something on his own.
Next came the Weasley's vault, numbered 349. Neville felt awkward at the sight of the small pile of sickles and singular galleon resting inside. He didn't make any comment, but he saw that Harry felt similarly. It was especially odd when they visited the final vault of the trip, vault 687. Harry's vault. Inside were a far vaster array of coins than what Neville had, stacks upon stacks of galleons galore. Neville had never seen so much wealth.
Neither had the Weasley's. He side eyed them, and saw differing levels of longing in all of their faces.
They quickly left the caves after Harry shoved a handful of coins into his bag. Back outside, everybody separated. Percy left to find a new quill, the twins met up with Lee Jordan and ran off for their own fun, Mr. Weasley took the Granger parents to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink, and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny left for a robe shop.
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville strolled down the winding, cobbled street, ready to make their purchases. Harry bought them all strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice cream cones, which they slurped on with happy abandon as they took in the fascinating shop windows. Ron immediately bee-lined for Quality Quidditch Supplies, taking in a set of Chudley robes. Hermione grabbed him by his collar scruff and dragged him to the next-door store, where they could purchase ink and parchment.
Neville realized that a theme had been established after that. Somebody would get distracted, and Hermione would badger them to where they ought to be. When Harry inquisitively approached the pet store for his owl, Hermione brought him to the apothecary across the street. When Neville found a tiny junk shop filled with knickknacks and collectibles he wanted to browse, she instead grabbed him by the wrist and brought him to a robe shop, stating his robes needed to be magicked longer. He'd had a growth spurt, according to her eye. Neville hadn't felt any different, still being shorter than both Hermione and Ron but taller than Harry but was happy for the praise.
He went back into the junk shop immediately after getting his robes taken care of. When Hermione had found him again, dragging him back out to continue his shopping, he did so with his mokeskin bag heavier with weight, but lighter in coin.
Once an hour had passed, the four second-year students made way to Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones to do so. The bookshop was swarmed with people, a line had forming just outside of its doors, where a multitude of folk, though mainly adult women of Mrs. Weasley's age, were waiting. The reason for this became obvious as Neville looked at the large banner stretched across the upper windows.
GILDEROY LOCKHART
WILL BE SIGNING COPIES OF HIS AUTOBIOGRAPHY
MAGICAL ME
TODAY AT 12:30P.M TO 4:30P.M.
Blinking, Neville looked around for a wall clock. One was posted adjacent to Ollivander's. It read 12:28.
"We can actually meet him!" Hermione gushed, grabbing Neville's arm tightly. Neville had gathered from the sign. And he was dubious at best. Though he'd not read any of the books before, he was at least aware – by way of Lavender Brown gushing over the man winning some smiling award last year – that Lockhart wrote an adventure series, not a set of textbooks.
The new Defense teacher ought to be a big fan of the man.
Neville didn't know what to think about that.
They squeezed inside the shop, past the long line who were there for the signing. Each grabbing a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, their shopping was complete.
Hermione immediately begged to return to the line, Harry and Ron following after her. Neville, in contrary, decided to explore Flourish and Blotts a little more. Last time, when Snape brought him to Diagon Alley, he'd only had a quick moment to grab a few extra books recommended by the wizard manning the counter. He wanted to see what else was worth purchasing, now that school supplies had been handled.
Neville ascended to the second floor and soon became lost in the selections available. There was an entire section further dedicated to the law of the wizarding world that further explained intricacies that his book Law of the Land only briefly touched upon. There were rows of animated books that cooed at him and hissed at him. One book even tried to bite him, titled The Monster Book of Monsters.
Neville barely withheld a shudder looking at the book. It was held back by cast iron chains.
Nope, the wizard decided, keeping his distance from the rabid literature.
Just as Neville was about to explore the broomology section, a commotion broke out. A crash of bookshelves thundered through Flourish and Blotts, alarmed shouts following in wake. Curious, Neville looked down, the sight before him honestly stunning him.
Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy. Brawling.
Neither were good fighters, Neville bemusedly noticed. Not that Neville was much better. Malfoy was taking wide sweeping strikes with his gangly limbs, and Mr. Weasley was trying to ram his opponent into shelves. But it was clear that of the two, Mr. Weasley was the better scrap, dishing out the majority of the licks.
Hagrid happened to the rescue. He waded through the sea of fallen books and bodily separated the two men, holding them up by their shoulders a good two feet in the air. Neville couldn't hear what they said, but Mr. Malfoy snarled and threw some books in Ginny's cauldron. He left in a huff, his son, Draco, following behind closely.
"Neville!" Mrs. Weasley hollered, after Mr. Blott had taken her aside. "Come here! We're leaving!"
"What?" Neville asked, quieter but still loud enough to be heard through the store. "Why?"
As it turned out, the Weasleys, and those that went shopping with them, being Neville, Harry, and Hermione, were being asked to leave the premises. Neville groaned in disappointment, but did as bade. Hermione looked like she was about to have an aneurism after being kicked out of a bookstore. Neither were happy.
The group returned to the Leaky Cauldron, where Hermione's parents were waiting, nursing a pitcher of black ale between them. Harry and the Weasleys bade goodbyes to them and left through the firesire. Hermione, her parents, and Neville trekked the opposite way to London for some lunch before returning home.
It was during this lunch that Neville learned Gilderoy Lockhart was actually going to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
He then realized he'd forgotten to purchase the man's books.
(o_=[-{+}-]=_o)
Back in Flourish and Blotts, a small, elderly woman held a signed copy of Magical Me to her chest.
She was staring at the exit of the store, quietly taking in everything that had just happened. A fight between Arthur Weasley, who she thought to be a fool, and Lucius Malfoy, who she hated with a passion, was worth her rare outing alone.
But when Molly Weasley called for a Neville, and a thick, sandy haired boy left with her and her gaggle of gingers…
The small woman felt darkness wash over her eyes as her wide-brim hat fell low over her brow. It shouldn't be possible.
And yet… did she hope? Did she dare?
I have nothing to lose, she thought, gripping her book tight. What's the harm?
As if in agreement, her hat, which bore a stuffed vulture wrapped around its pointed tip, mechanically cawed.