Chapter 6: Neville Longbottom

This is an update. I know amazing, right? Please read and review.

Neville Longbottom was four years old, and he didn't understand what was going on. His father was never home, and he was being left with his grandmother more and more. Of course, this was almost preferable to Neville. When Neville did see his father, his father's breath smelled weird, and he was angry. His father was never violent per say, but he would shout at the poor unsuspecting boy until he cried. Then he would send him to his room. Neville would scurry away as fast as his little, clumsy legs could carry him. When he reached the safety of his room, he would allow more tears to flow.

After a few years of this, his father grew even more angry. Frank Longbottom first slapped his son, when his son was nine years old. Frank stared at his own hand in shock. When he was ten, Neville was permanently moved to his grandmother's house. His grandmother was strict, and she ruled her house with an iron fist. However, Neville knew what he was expected to do and how he was expected to behave. He knew when he stepped out of line. But his grandmother never laid a hand on him. If he misbehaved, then more chores would be added to his list.

It wasn't long after Frank gave Neville up that he committed suicide. Neville found out a few days later, and he went into shock. Neville didn't cry when he found out, when he visited the hospital, when the funeral happened, or when the first shovel poured dirt over Frank's coffin. No, Neville didn't cry then. He cried in the privacy of his room the night after. But he didn't cry for his father. Rather he cried for what wasn't. If his mother had been alive, would things had ended the same? What was he to do without a father or a mother in the darkness of the world? Voldemort was still out there. Who was he going to lose next?

Dumbledore came to the house the next day, and he spoke in urgent, hushed tones with his grandmother. A few months before his eleventh birthday, Neville was once again ripped from a familiar place and a family member. He was taken to Hogswart early, where he started to train with Severus Snape in dueling and potions. Neville didn't understand what was going on. He was ten years old. Why was he being trained like an auror? His father had been an auror, and his father didn't know half these spells. Most of the lessons went right over Neville's head. He wasn't understanding the concepts or what he was supposed to do. He knew he was infuriating Severus Snape, but he wasn't sure how he could fix this.

Neville decided to talk to Dumbledore, and he walked over to the Headmaster's office. He was given the password, so he could talk to the Headmaster whenever. Neville wanted to see his grandmother, and maybe, Dumbledore would let him. Upon entering the Headmaster's office, he realized that Snape and Dumbledore were talking. Neville decided to wait, but he stood back in the shadows. He didn't want to interrupt their conversation.

"I will not teach that incompetent whelp any longer, Headmaster!" Severus Snape said, "I refuse to do it."

"Come now, Severus," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye, "You are our best chance of training the boy, and you know what Voldemort is up to."

"He is incompetent and will probably perish long before he faces Voldemort," Snape said with a derisive snort.

Now, Neville may not understand a lot, but he understood that. He was here, because he was a weapon. He didn't know what made him qualify as the weapon, but he was the one who would have to destroy Voldemort. "Now, Severus, my boy," said Dumbledore, "We had a deal. I'll keep Lily safe if you train the boy."

Okay, I hope you guys enjoyed it. I'll try to make the chapters longer, but I think that will happen as we get further into the story.