Chapter 3: Family, Friends, and… Ron?
"Did you really have to grab me that hard, 'San?" I complain, adjusting my bulky scholar robes. I cannot wait to get to wherever my room will be and shed these hellish garments. If I could get away with it, I'd burn them too. The flames would look so beautiful dancing away the cloth to embers.
"Quit complaining, crybaby," the redhead laughs. Her voice is light and airy, a far contrast to her aunt.
Before I know it, my pseudo-cousin pulls me into a hug. Let it be known, that Susan Bones may be short but she isn't without might. As she holds me tight, squeezing my lungs from my body like a Bertie squeeze pop, I can only groan as my eyes search for help from the other person in the compartment.
"Hann…ah," I struggle out. "H-elp."
The blonde didn't even blink in the face of my woe. "Hi, Harry." She merely continued to recline upon the entire right bench, braiding her hair as it came down over her right shoulder. "Congrats on getting so far in your tournament."
Like magic, Susan pulls away to arm's length. "Yes! Congratulations, Harry! I know I wrote you a letter and all that, but I wanted to say it in person as well."
I take a breath, sucking my lungs back down into my chest as I smile at the two girls. Susan did really write a nice letter, littered with promises that I'd do even better next time. As if her promises were going to decide the outcomes…. That came down to my choice.
"Thanks you two," I go with, fixing my posture.
But before I can get another word out, Susan's arms reach for my neck. Rather, her fingers find a home on my tie. In one quick pull, she unravels my father's work.
"Hey!" I complain. We had spent too much time on that blasted thing just for someone to rip it away.
"I'm doing you a favor, Harry," Susan sighs. "You'd think you would know how to tie a tie by now."
"My dad did that actually. It was a true labor of love."
She rolls her eyes. "You'd think he'd know how to tie a tie by now."
She does something with the tie, finagling with it and pulling the fabric tight, but not enough to be choking. It's surprisingly in the perfect spot. I cannot help but raise my eyebrow at her.
A silent conversation happens at that moment.
"Remus sometimes needs a hand in the mornings after the full moon, and Auntie is typically already out of the house."
I nod.
I had seen Remus a few times after the full moon. To call the man haggard would be a compliment. Even with access to Wolfsbane potions, the transformation into a werewolf was not something the Marauder dealt with easily. Sirius voiced once to me and my father in private that it probably has to do with Remus rejecting that side of him. That the aches and pains were a war within his magic that bled out into the physical aspects of life.
We, of course, have never broached this topic with Remus. After all, we all have our problems. A man not wanting to be a werewolf should not be surprising when at any given moment another man could pull your liver out through your nostrils.
You really have to love magic. I learned that rather nasty bit one night sneaking into the Black Family Library with Stella. Neither her mother nor Sirius were too happy about a nine and ten-year-old reading what we shouldn't have even been touching. Their fault for not putting it under a charm, I say.
But I digress from the Dark Arts and who is to blame for the breaking of the youth's innocence. This is about yours truly and my friends going to Hogwarts, not the past.
"I should hire you to do my tie every morning," I tease, grinning at her.
Of course, Susan rolls her eyes at me as she goes to where Hannah is lounging. The blonde shifts her jean-clad legs, allowing Susan to take their place right before her feet land in the redhead's lap.
"And Hannah can hire you as her stool as well. Really a woman of talents, Susan."
"Har-de-har-har." She gives me the bird, lime green painted nail and all. Real mature of the daughter of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Though knowing her aunt, I'd probably get an eye roll and a finger from her as well over something so trivial. She's too busy of a woman to worry about these small things. Which is why I should write a letter to Remus instead!
"I'm telling Remus," I announce.
"Am I going to have to deal with two children all the way to Hogwarts?" Hannah groans, looking up at me from behind her braid. She pulls it in front of her face, inspecting its progress as if it is a NEWT-level potion. "It's an eight-hour train ride, so let me crack the window and take a puff first."
"Oh shush," Susan laughs, slightly slapping the girl's shin. "We aren't that bad."
Yet even as the two giggle, I'm still left standing as I realize what Hannah has just said.
"You brought some of that muggle stuff with you?" I ask, excited.
While I have more than the average exposure to muggle livelihood than my fellow wizards and witches that I have met, Hannah is one of the handful of half-bloods who lives more in touch with the non-magic folk, even with her family being part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Which has obviously meant she has snuck Susan and me to a muggle smoke session or two. Great times.
I just did not expect her to also be bringing some to Hogwarts.
Hannah shrugs, finishing braiding her hair as she lets it fall beside her. It's long, hanging off the bench. I'm so used to it, it is easy to forget just how long her blonde hair is even when it is coiled up in a braid. "Want some? If we ration it well, I can make it to winter hols. Worst case I can ask Abe to owl me some."
I like the idea. Abraham "Abe" Abbott is Hannah's older brother, and while he would be entering his fifth year at Hogwarts, he is unfortunately a squib. Which is to just say he is a non-magical in a magical family. He's a great guy, in truth. Snuck me a pint at the start of the summer when a few of us crashed at Hannah's place.
"What if we get caught?" Susan frowns, eyes darting to me for backup, some sensibility. I suppose it is hard having a Marauder and the head of the Auror Department as guardians, it seems like very conflicting do's and don'ts. Convincing her to smoke the first time had been challenging enough. To add on at school….
"Why would we get caught?" I grin. "I'm down Hannah."
"Down for what?" The door opens behind me.
Its only now that I realize the train hasn't even set off yet and that students must still be milling about finding a compartment to call home for the ride.
"Neville!" Susan cheers, pushing Hannah's feet aside as she rushes to bear hug the kid.
"Susan!" he calls out, but really it's more of a plea. If I squint hard enough, I think I can see him being turned into a squeeze pop.
"H-harry?" he calls for help, and I can only shrug as I finally take my seat opposite where the girls had sat. No one helped me. Why should I be the bigger man?
After a moment, Susan pulls away. Nobody misses the blush that adorns Neville's cheeks. His hand comes to his chest massaging his ribs, and I cannot help but notice his tie looks perfect. Susans seems to notice this as well as she gives him a smile before moving back to her seat.
Hannah immediately lifts her legs back onto her friend's lap as she gives The-Boy-Who-Lived a wave. "Morning, Nevs."
"Morning to you too, Hannah." He returns her small wave before pulling his trunk into the compartment and shutting the door.
Neville quickly lifts his trunk to the rack above us. Arguably safer than keeping your trunk shrunk in your pocket like I did, but I'll have you know if that thing falls on me, I'm burning his possessions to cinders.
The slightly pudgy boy takes his seat beside me. He's rigid, sitting forward in the seat, not relaxing back into the comforts of the enchanted padding. "So what was it you three were up to?"
Susan and I start a new silent conversation. While we are friends with Neville. He isn't the same kind of friend that we associate Hannah with. The sandy-blonde-haired boy gets along with us because our families get along at public venues, and back when we kids were doing our Core Studies, he lingered about the edges of our trio and the wow'd gazes of the other kids.
It is why he sits at the edge of his seat. Neville knows this as well, but he also knows we won't turn him away or make it awkward.
My father called him a floater when I talked about it with him one day. Neville Longbottom's name preceded his own self. There existed expectations and ideas of him that acted like a wall between who he was and who he is. I barely understood this at the time, but after interacting with some of the more famous competitors at the tournament over the summer I think I've begun to understand. Who you are in front of a crowd and in front of your peers is different from each other.
More so, they can even be different than who you are by yourself. Of course, there are underlining threads that join these three faces to create who you are. However, for someone like Neville, my father suspected that the three threads of who he was had not found the crossroad that held him together into one person. He would one day….
So, as I and Susan's silent conversation concluded, I took the invisible talking stick. "We were just talking about what house we think we will be in."
"Oh, that's easy," Neville blurts. "Gryffindor." He doesn't even think we are lying to him or rather doesn't seem to show so. I almost feel guilty.
"Aye," I wink at him. "Gryfs all the way." I turn to Hannah who is now threading a yellow tulip hairpin behind her ear. "Blondie is totally going to be puffing."
The two girls giggle, and Neville nods awkwardly, "I-I can see it."
"Probably will say Hufflepuff the moment it touches a single hair on her head," Susan tacks on as she covers her giggles behind her hand.
Hannah forces her joy into a pearly white smile, a totally innocent gesture. "I'll be the queen of us all," she gloats, throwing her arms up and out. "You two will be on your knees begging me for my time."
"Oh, I'm sure," the redhead giggles. "Probably around exam time as well."
"Best time, too," Hannah giggles.
"Harry, I think I'm missing context." Neville turns to me.
Of course, he is missing context. I don't feel inclined to provide any. Perhaps next year. I'm not exactly sure how he would react.
"All good Neville. I think the girls are just crazy." I say, giving him a soft elbow to the upper arm.
I raise my brow at him. Despite the pudge around the cheeks and stomach, I felt the muscle in that arm. He'd throw a mean left hook if he ever had to.
Knock! Knock!
The door opens once more. Another boy stands there. He's tall, much taller than my father and I. Gangly would be a good word for him. His orange hair is cut short but looks like he rolled out of bed only a few minutes ago as it points in every direction but with the flow of how it should go.
"Er-You mind if I join you?" He asks, awkwardly. Clearly he doesn't get out much. "Everywhere else is full or saving seats."
"The more the merrier!" Hannah whoops, ushering him in.
I toss Susan a glance. Neither of us has seen this kid before, so it means he's likely a muggleborn. No hate, of course. Just, I'm personally not looking forward to the flood of questions he'll likely be having between the sentences of our conversations. Neville would at least sit there quietly in such a situation.
"Ron Weasley, by the way," the boy adds, lifting his trunk above me. He's near eye level with them.
Wait.
Weasley?
"Fred and George's brother?" I ask.
I know the twins by mention rather than personally. Sirius had taken to helping the Weasley family a few years ago by tutoring the twins for their Core studies as a deal he made with Arthur Weasley.
It was known that the family was pinching pennies, and they were too prideful to take a helping hand despite having seven mouths to feed. So, when the twins needed teaching, Sirius, under his wife's encouragement took to trying his hand at teaching the two as a test. It was apparently also the only way they could get Arthur and Molly Weasley to agree.
However, I knew he did not teach the youngest son. Matter of fact, the youngest son hadn't even attended Core classes with the rest of us.
"Yeah, that's them," Ron answers, scratching his sideburns as he takes a seat to Neville's right. Another edge sitter…. "You know them?"
"Meh," I shrug. "I know Sirius Black and some things by proxy."
Ron nods, "The twins idolize that man. Makes me wonder what he taught them."
"He didn't teach you as well?" Susan asks the question that leads to the answer I care about.
"No. He was busy once they started Hogwarts, and I had already begun my own classes."
His own classes? So, he was taught somewhere by someone. Did Sirius find a replacement for himself?
"Oh? Who taught you?" Hannah asks, next. It is like a firing line of twenty questions.
"I'm sorry, I never caught your names?" Ron shifts in his seat, almost meeting our eyes as he looks at each of us. Yet, I watch as his gaze meets my hairline instead. Is he looking for something or avoiding our eyes? Then it meets Neville's. "Wait…. Are you?" he whispers as if afraid he's saying the wrong thing. "You're The-Boy-Who-Lived?"
Neville looks profoundly uncomfortable and meek as he gives a small nod. "I-I am," he trips over his words for a second. Then, like a switch, he straightens his back, squares his shoulders, and then giving a more firm nod, continues. "Neville Longbottom."
It's like he has become a completely different person. The Wonder Child offers his right arm out to shake.
Ron's eyes are wide for a moment, like a muggleborn seeing magic for the first time. Then, he quickly takes Neville's hand. "Pleasure to meet you, mate."
Neville gives a polite smile, a well-practiced one I might add as he returns the pleasantry.
I've turned to Susan at this point, a single eyebrow raised. No words are ever needed between us.
We both didn't miss him changing the subject at Hannah's question. We both knew enough about the Weasleys to know they couldn't afford advanced schooling before Hogwarts like most magical families. Add on the dash of rumors you hear, spread by adults….
"I'm Hannah Abbot!" Blondies decoration breaks us from our mind-meld.
Ron turns to look at me, waiting, but his eyes nervously dash to Susan. He recognizes our private moment as he forces a small, sad-looking smile. He thinks the worst. He expects the worst.
"I'm Susan Bones and the idiot over there is Harry Potter," 'San answers for us. I give a small nod.
Ron of course smiles, mumbling a pleased to meet you, but the words feel small. He knows he's the outsider in the room. He's well aware that we are treading softly for him.
Yet, that only makes me even more curious to know who he is. Who is Ron Weasley, the forgotten son of seven?
Matter of fact, I know that his younger sister is taking her Core studies with Stella. The two had gotten on rather famously. So where did that leave Ron in all this?
"Oh! The train is finally moving!" Hannah cheers, forcing a high-five out of Susan. "Hogwarts, here we come!"
