Chapter one: Reunions
“Without me, his world will go on turning…” “Eponine, Les Miserables
~*~*~
Neville Longbottom lay on his bare mattress, staring at the top of his ceiling. His grandmother had spent the last two hours shouting at people via Floo Powder about his low OWL scores. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, pulling his pillow over his head as he heard his grandmother shout something along the lines of “HE’LL NEVER GET A JOB NOW! ONLY SEVEN OWLS!”
Suddenly, he threw the pillow across the room, letting it land softly in the corner. “It’s not my fault,” he murmured, as though that tiny statement would be able to raise his self esteem at all. “I did well on Herbology…” His eyes were stinging with warm tears now as he blinked the furiously away. How was he supposed to concentrate anyway, with Harry acting like he was? Neville wasn’t as stupid as everybody thought he was; he didn’t have to do well on divination to know when something was going on.
His bed creaked lightly as he pushed himself off his bed and crossed over the bare wood of his floor and sat down at his desk, letting his head sit on the cold wood. Thoughts of the Department of Mysteries immediately filled his mind. If only he hadn’t dropped that orb… that stupid orb, why was it such a big deal? But I could have done more… He reminded himself, running a hand through his hair. I could have stopped an injury or something… if I just wasn’t so damn cowardly! And then of course, I had to go and break Dad’s wand…I had to be such a klutz…
He was about to get up, but a tapping at the window caught his attention. A light brown owl with beige speckled across its back flittered excitedly at the window panes. Neville stood up slowly, taking his hands out of his empty pockets and pushed open the glass. The bird fluttered in and dropped an official looking Hogwarts letter and a Daily Prophet on the ground. As the owl soared away, Neville ripped the envelope open and pulled out the note. Sighing, he skimmed over his classes for next term, and what books he’ll need. “Great,” he whispered, re-closing the window and sitting back down on his bed.
Neville placed the letter on his bedside table and bent down to pick up the newspaper that had fallen to the floor. A face he recognized all too well was printed on the front. Bellatrix Lestrange laughed coldly in what looked like an Azkaban line up. In large, bold letters at the front, stated, that she had been spotted recently in Hogsmeade, and the threat of attack was rising. Hearing anger pumping through his veins, he dropped the paper on the ground and sat back in his bed, tears, once again, threatening their way down his face.
“NEVILLE!” A shrill voice brought him back to reality. With a swing of his door, Neville’s grandmother appeared in full green robed, vulture hat-ed, fox fur scarfed costume. Her almost copyrighted red bag dropped to the floor as she fussed over Neville’s hair. “We’re about to go to visit your parents and you’re still looking as if you just woke up!” Neville groaned and sat up, pushing his grandmother’s hand away while bending down to grab his shoes.
About fifteen minutes later, Neville stood in front of the fire, with a pinch of Floo Powder in hand. He dropped it into the flames and stepped in, whispering, “St. Mungo’s Hospital!” In an instant he was off, spinning in a swirl of green flames. He landed loudly in the crowded hospital, just managing not to fall. Quickly, he moved out of the way and watched Gran land with a clack of her high heals.
She bustled importantly to the front desk, pushing her way past a group of disheveled warlocks who had made their noses fall completely off. “We are here to see Alice and Frank Longbottom,” she said, sniffing disapprovingly at the warlocks. The witch at the head counter nodded, and pointed towards the stairs. Gran wrapped her fingers around Neville’s wrist and walked briskly towards the stairs, dragging her grandson along behind her.
They passed patients with all sorts of magical diseases and injuries, until they reached the fourth floor. They passed by an important looking healer with some kind of patch that gave him more authority, four patients who were screeching like owls, and a visitor who looked like he was lost and was looking for the tea room, until they finally reached Ward 49. A friendly looking witch, one of the new healers for the ward, smiled and murmured, “Frank just work up from a nap. Alice is still sleeping.”
“Well, dear,” Gran said, patting Neville stiffly on the shoulder. “We don’t have much time. We still have to go to Diagon Alley.” She pushed him forward a few inches. “So make it quick.”
Neville treaded softly across the cold marble floor and sat down on a chair next to his father, who was staring blankly out the window. “Hi, dad,” he whispered, as to not wake up his mother. Frank turned to him, and smiled weakly. His dark eyes retained the completely lost shine as it had since he was here. It was obvious Frank didn’t know who was talking to him; but yet the soft voice was so comforting, that it seemed to trigger a far away memory. Neville sighed, as his father shook his head at nothing and turned back to look out the window, watching a bird flutter by intently.
“I’ll see you later, dad.” Neville said, patting his father’s hand awkwardly. He stood up and tip toed his way over to his mother’s bed. Alice’s chest raised and fell slowly as she slept. “Mum?” He said, squeezing her hand slightly. “Mum, are you awake?”
“Oh, Neville, don’t wake her.” Gran said, taking off her vulture hat and brushing the stuffed bird off. “You know how hard it is to make her fall back “ oh there, she’s up.” Alice opened her crystal blue eyes and blinked at her song slowly.
Neville grinned from ear to ear, and whispered, “Hi mum.” Alice smiled back at him, and squeezed Neville’s hand back. She reached her other hand up and ran it through her grey hair.
Neville’s grandmother sighed. “This is going to take forever,” she whispered, to a healer with her hood raised above her face. “I’ll be down on the first floor, Neville. Come down in a few minutes.”
Neville nodded, not taking his eyes off of his mother. She seemed to recognize him, much more than Frank at least. A flicker of fear appeared in her eyes as she saw the healer with her face covered. She groaned and shut her eyes tight, squeezing Neville’s hand to the point of discomfort. Neville turned to see the healer, who was bustling out of the room. “It’s okay, she’s gone,” he said, scooting the stool he was sitting on in slightly. Alice, turned back around, and Neville saw tears stream from her eyes. “Mum, its okay…”
The friendly healer returned and sighed as she saw Alice crying. “Oh dear, maybe she should just take another nap… Lord knows what she’s crying about this time… Your grandmother is waiting for you… You might want to--”
“I’ll be there in a second,” Neville said, not turning to the healer. “Don’t give her a potion, I think I can get her to go back to sleep.” The healer nodded, and made her way over to Frank, who was now ripping up a picture of Gilderoy Lockhart. Turning back to Alice, Neville smiled, and whispered, “Don’t worry, mum. It’ll all be okay.” He took a big breath and started singing softly, a song that he remembered his mother, father and grandmother singing to him at separate times.
“Nothing’s gonna harm you,
Not while I’m around.
Nothing’s gonna harm you,
No sir.
Not while I’m around.
Demons are prowling everywhere now’adays.
I’ll send ‘em howling
I don’t care, I’ve got ways.
No one’s gonna hurt you.
No one’s gonna dare.
Others can desert you.
Not to worry, whistle,
I’ll be there.
Demons’ll charm you with a smile
For a while.
But in time
Nothing can harm you
Not while I’m around.”
He smiled softly as he felt Alice’s hand go limp and watched her curl up peacefully. Her eyes slowly closed, but she suddenly waved her hand and sat up. Reaching to her bedside table and pulled a little card. She slapped it in Neville’s hand and laughed innocently. Neville grinned, “Love you, mum,” he whispered, taking a look at what his mother gave him. Half of a chocolate frog card lay in his open palm. He could read Albus Dumbledore across the top, and watched Dumbledore’s large frame attempting to fit itself into the half of the card. He laughed and pocketed it, trotting towards the door.
Gran turned a deep shade of red as Neville appeared on the bottom step. “Well, it took you long enough.” She snapped, the vulture on her hat wobbling dangerously. When he was a child, Neville always thought that was a warning sign that it was about to fall off, but after quite a few years of that vulture supposedly about to fall off, he realized it was magically suspended. “Well, c’mon. To the fire with you! We still have to get all of your school things… Merlin knows why the school took so long with the letters…”
“I’m sure Dumbledore was just preoccupied,” Neville responded, with a quick roll of his eyes. “I mean, he ” OOF!” Suddenly knocked off of his feet, Neville stumbled backwards and had to grab the shoulder of a young witch who was clinging to the leg of her father.
The healer, who was previously in Ward 49, bustled by, grunting only a “sorry” for knocking Neville down.
Huffily, Neville pushed himself up and straightened his cloak. “I’m going… I’m going,” he continued, passing by his Gran and taking a pinch of Floo Powder off a little vase next to the fire place. “To The Leaky Cauldron!” he shouted, throwing the pinch of powder into the flames.
~*~*~
The musty old pub was crowded with so many wizards that Neville had a hard time pushing his way out of the fire place. Almost half of the people there were Hogwarts students. Apparently, Dumbledore wasn’t slow on only his letter.
“Merlin’s beard!” Neville’s grandmother exclaimed, again landing loudly in the fire. “There isn’t room in here to swing a kneazle! EXCUSE ME!” She pushed her way passed a girl who Neville recognized as Hannah Abbot, a Hufflepuff in his year. “Hurry up, Neville. We still have to get you a new wand.”
Neville smiled weakly. He knew he shouldn’t be happy that he had broken his father’s wand, but he always had an urge to get a wand of his own. He never had the feeling of warmth under his fingers that he heard the professors explain so many times. Finally, they made their way out of the stuffy Leaky Cauldron and reached the court yard. Whipping out her wand, Gran tapped a brick, and took a step back. She nodded, obviously satisfied with the speed of the bricks’ rearrangement.
The alley was even more crowded than the Leaky Cauldron. Students shouted frantically to their parents as they pushed their way out of a shop. Gran let out a frustrated whiff of air, as she, once again, snatched Neville’s wrist and strutted through the crowd. “Excuse me, we have somewhere important to go!” Finally, a path cleared and his grandmother marched through.
Neville beamed as he looked through the window. Wand boxes of all shapes and sizes lined the walls, piling up so high that he could hardly see the top. “Well, I er-” Gran coughed nervously. “I think you can handle it from here. I’ll be getting you a new set of dragon hide gloves. Merlin knows why you had to continue Herbology…” She continued her rant about Herbology, and Neville could have sworn he heard her say something about dirt under his fingernails. Gran had always gotten rather huffy when he had ever said something about Ollivander’s. He had always thought that she had a bit of a self esteem problem when she was not the oldest one there.
“Excuse me?” A bell on the creaky door tinkled softly, muffled by the dust in the shop. Shutting the door behind him, he continued. “I would like to buy a-”
“A wand?” Mr. Ollivander appeared behind him, his breath quivering. “What else would you be here for?”
“Well-”
“Stand there.” Mr. Ollivander pointed to the center of the room and waited for Neville to comply. Neville did what he was told silently, and watched Mr. Ollivander go along with his business. He waved his right hand, and a drawer opened. An obviously magical tape measure flew out and began measuring Neville’s height, skull, girth, and everything else imaginable. A quill scribbled down the measurements, and Mr. Ollivander stood stiffly, waiting for the tape measure to finish its job. His hollow, grey eyes never left Neville’s. Finally, the tape measure returned to the drawer, and the quill lay itself down on the desk, and Mr. Ollivander budged.
“A Longbottom?” he inquired as he shuffled through the wand boxes. Neville nodded slowly. “Yes… you look just like your mother.” He pulled out a rather short box and pulled out a stumpy wand, slapping it in Neville’s hand. “Well, no doubt you used your father’s wand, and … I’m assuming you broke it? So you need a new one.” He cleared his throat, and tapped the tip of the short wand he had given Neville. “So, give it a wave. Lacewood, seven inches, dragon heart string.”
Neville waved it hopefully, but was immediately disappointed as absolutely nothing happened. “No…” Ollivander said, snatching it back and reaching for another box. “Try this. Rosewood, sixteen inches, phoenix feather.” Neville took it hopefully, but before he could even try to wave it, Mr. Ollivander had taken it back, shaking his head.
His patients running low, Neville waved a very long series of wands, woods including Pink Ivory, Ash, Hazel, Hornbeam, Maple, Oak, and Willow. Finally, Mr. Ollivander pulled out a wand box, that made Neville’s inside jump with excitement once he saw it. “Ebony, Dragon Heart String, Fourteen inches.” Ollivander said through a sigh.
Neville pulled it out of the box and wrapped his fingers around the handle. It fit perfectly, like it was custom made for him. He waved it gracefully, and a wave of red and black sparks shot out of the tip. Warmth tingled the tips of his fingers, and he laughed softly with glee.
Mr. Ollivander raised an overly-bushy eyebrow. He nodded slowly and made his way over to the cash register, age apparent by each wrinkled line on his face. “That would be eight Galleons, please,” he said stiffly. As Neville fished through his pockets to find the gold, Mr. Ollivander continued. “This is rather interesting… Very powerful wand… Extremely powerful… In fact, it’s almost as powerful as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s wand. Hopefully, this one will be in better hands…” He cleared his throat, as he placed the wand in an official looking shopping back. “Oh, of course it will,” he decided. “Good day, Mr. Longbottom.”
Neville swallowed a lump growing in his throat. He really didn’t think that he, of all people, would end up with a wand almost as powerful as You-Know-Whose. As he pushed the door open, his grandmother seemed to appear out of thin air. “Hurry up!” she said briskly. “I’ll be at Gringott’s. Go get your new robes, Neville.” And with a swish of her cloak, she was lost in the crowd. The only way Neville knew she hadn’t Apparated was a large stuffed vulture slowly making its way towards the wizards’ bank.
Luckily, Madam Malkin’s was near by to Ollivander’s, and it wasn’t a painfully frustrating walk to get his new robes. Finally, he made it into the magically air conditioned store and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his sweater. “Are you here for new Hogwarts robes, dear?” Madam Malkin asked, lifting her head at Neville’s appearance. Neville nodded in response, and allowed himself to be pushed into the measuring room. “So, just stand there on that stool, and we’ll come and fit you.”
“Neville?” A redheaded boy, his age was getting fitted on a stool near his. Ron Weasley stood, arms outstretched as a witch worked on the sleeves on a new set of robes. “What are you doing here, Neville?”
“New robes,” Neville responded, stepping up to the stool also. “Mine got ripped at “ at “ well, you know.”
Ron nodded, understanding what he meant immediately. “Mine, also. Me’ parents finally agreed to get me my own robes, instead of hand-me-downs.” A grin reached from each side of his freckled face. “It’ll be nice to have robes that fit properly, for once. So, Neville, what have you been doing all summer? Anything interesting?”
Neville shook his head, deciding not to tell Ron about Bellatrix Lestrange. He had probably read the Daily Prophet and knew what was happening. “Nothing really. Just relaxing, I guess.” He shrugged, much to the annoyance of the witch who was fitting his robe. “Is the rest of your family here?”
“Nah,” Ron said, with a wave of his hand. “They’re back at The Burrow. Hermione, Harry, Ginny and I are staying at the Leaky Cauldron over night. We decided it wasn’t worth getting back home, and having to come back to London tomorrow, anyway.”
“H-Hermione is here?” Neville asked, suddenly getting rather flustered.
“Yeah.”
“Oh…” Neville shifted uncomfortably. The witch fitting Ron’s robes finished and he stepped off the stool.
“I’ll meet you out in the front room, okay?” Ron said, as he headed towards the door.
Neville nodded again, and waited for his robes to be finished. “Alright, dear,” the witch said, standing up. “I think you’re all done.”
While he and Ron paid they made friendly conversation about their summer vacations, and stepped out of the store into the hot, crowded alley. “NEVILLE!” Gran’s vulture hat came into view, and Neville turned a deep shade of scarlet immediately. “Neville, did you get your robes? Oh good. Well, if you just hand me some of those bags, I’m going to head home.” She gave him a little pouch. “Floo Powder to get home,” She explained. “Buy your books, see your friends, and be home before dinner. You have an early start tomorrow.”
Handing his new robes and wand over to his grandmother, Neville calculated how much time he had left before dinner started. Deciding he had a good chunk of time, he waved to his Gran and turned to Ron. “So, we’re headed to the Leaky Cauldron?” Ron nodded enthusiastically, and they pushed their way through the crowd.
After about fifteen minutes of claustrophobic struggling, they finally reached the pub. It was much less crowded than before, though it wasn’t saying much. Neville spotted his friends from Gryffindor house immediately. Ginny ran over to her brother and grinned the same freckled, toothy grin as Ron when she saw Neville. “Hi,” she said with a nervous giggle. “They’ve been at it all day, I need a break.”
“At what? Are they having a fight?” Neville asked curiously.
“Worse than that.” Ron scrunched up his nose and pointed to the table where Ginny was previously sitting.
The-Boy-Who-Lived, sat there with a sideways smile on his face. He ran a hand through his ruffled hair as he spoke to Hermione. His scar was even more vivid than usual, as though someone had put a white hot poker to it. Hermione seemed to be in such an intent conversation, that she didn’t even notice Neville’s appearance. Harry didn’t either, which thoroughly confused Neville. Harry was usually so observant.
Shrugging it off, he turned back to Ron, noticing for the first time how considerably taller the red head was than him. “What’s going on?” he asked, very confused.
“They’ve been this close ever since that day at the ministry,” Ron responded, somewhat awkwardly. “And they’re only getting closer. I think he’s going to ask her-”
Just as he said that, Harry leaned in slowly to Hermione and kissed her softly on the lips. Neville turned a deep shade of crimson as he saw this, feeling his insides flutter angrily. Why had Hermione agreed to go out with Harry? What was so special about him anyway…?
“Oh, never mind,” Ron said with a frustrated sigh.
Ginny giggled at this and rolled her eyes playfully. “Can you see why I’m annoyed?” she asked, crossing her arms. “They’ve been doing the same thing all day…”
Neville didn’t listen, however. He just stared down at his worn tennis shoes thoughtfully. She wouldn’t have gone out with me anyway… she didn’t when I asked her… She has no interest in a klutz… My life is amounting to nothing…
“Er-” He bit his lip. “I-I think I’m going to Flourish and Blott’s before I have to go.”
“Okay,” Ron said cheerfully. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Bye, Neville!” Ginny said with a quick blush.
With a disappointed sigh, Neville walked down Diagon Alley. It was much less crowded now, and he could actually see the cobble stoned road. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he hummed quietly to himself as he passed Quality Quidditch Supplies, The Apothecary, and the Magical Menagerie. The sun was setting behind wizarding stores, casting a shadow in the entire alley. Finally, he reached Flourish and Blott’s and pushed the door open.
The sent of tidy scroll filled the entire shop as he made his way to the front counter. “Hi,” he said weakly to the wizard working in the shop. “Could you please get me these books?” He placed his letter on the counter and slid it over to the employee. The man nodded and shuffled off to the back room.
Neville turned and walked slowly passed the many shelves, searching for the Herbology section. He found it, and sat down in the middle of the two shelves. He pulled out a particularly thick volume, entitled Poisonous Plants of Africa and the Middle East and began to read. Incredible, moving illustrations filled each page along with cramped writing. It was clear that this volume held as much information as physically possible for something of its size.
The bell attached to the door tinkled, and Neville looked up. Quickly realizing that it was just the door, he returned to the book.
“The Inficipuff is a plant more dangerous than its appearance. It is almost indistinguishable from a Mandrake from ground level, but once dug up, it does not have the rough appearance of a human child. Instead, it has the appearance of a spider. Each of its legs has the ability to break off, with stings on the foot. It is said that the Inficipuff was created by experimental pollination between a Mandrake and a Telesign.”
Fascinated by this strange plant, Neville was flipping through the book to read up on Telesigns, a plant he was only vaguely familiar with. “Neville?” A quiet whisper interrupted his thoughts. Looking up, he saw Hermione standing there, hands in her pockets and a small smile on her face. “You didn’t say hi to me earlier. Ginny told me that you were in the Leaky Cauldron.”
“Oh,” Neville said, standing up and marking his page in the book. “Well, y-you seemed kind of busy…” He shuffled his left foot awkwardly back and forth. “Er… but anyway, how was your summer?”
“It was okay,” Hermione said with a small grimace. “I’m very happy to go back to Hogwarts, though. I was missing using my wand.” She laughed nervously, and looked down at her shoes. “I-I haven’t talked to you since… well, since-”
“Yeah,” Neville interrupted. “It’s been a while. So, I saw you with Harry. You two seemed really … er … happy.”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Hermione managed to say while she repressed a giggle fit. “Well, not it isn’t nothing.” Her face turned the same shade of scarlet as Neville’s, and she smiled toothily. “Over the summer, we just realized how much we have in common. How much we fit together. We’re like the perfect pair, you know?”
It took a lot of concentration to fight back his tears. “Y-yeah, I know.” Neville never understood how Hermione had never noticed how he felt for her. Hadn’t he been painfully obvious? Even since the first day that they met on the Hogwarts Express, he had been very flustered whenever he was around her.
~*~*~
An eleven year old girl sat in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express alone. Bushy hair surrounded her petite face like a picture frame. She sighed as she looked out the window. Suddenly, a boy came blundering by. His face was rounder than average, and he was a little on the chubby side.
“Er, h-h-have you seen a toad?” Neville stuttered nervously, ringing his hands together. “M-my Gran’ll kill me if she finds out I lost him again… Great Uncle Algie when really out of his way to get him for me and “ oh, I mean… I’m sorry.”
The girl laughed politely. “No, I’m sorry. I haven’t. But I’ll help you look. I would hate for you to get in trouble.” She stood up and straightened out her neat little skirt. “My name is Hermione Granger,” she said, extending her hand for Neville to shake; which he did, realizing a few seconds later that had shaken her hand for a few seconds to long.
“I’m Neville Longbottom,” he said, putting his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans. He stepped out of the compartment and looked back and forth. “D’ya want to go this way, then?” he asked, pointing to the right. Hermione nodded and he started walking. “So, are you a pureblood? Or a halfblood? Or a muggleborn?”
“Er,” Hermione said, shrugging to herself. “I… I don’t really know.”
“Are your parents magical?”
“OH!” Hermione nodded enthusiastically. “I know what you mean now. No, they’re not. And neither is my sister. I didn’t even think that magic existed until I got my letter a few months ago… My parents reckoned it was a joke, but we decided to go to Diagon Alley anyway, to see. We were so amazed to see that-” she stopped suddenly. “I’m sorry; my mouth gets faster than my head sometimes.”
Neville shook his head. “I don’t mind,” he said with a smile. “Think we should check in here?” He pointed towards an official looking compartment.
Hermione nodded and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
Neville pushed the door open, and started to ask, “Has anybody seen a toad?” but didn’t get past ‘anybody.’ A group of prefects sat, staring bitterly at the first year who dared to barge in on their meeting.
“Who are you?” a seventh year asked rudely. He had a pin with a big ‘HB’ on it. “And why are you in the prefect compartment?”
“Er…” Neville stammered. “I-I-I was just looking for-for my toad. I didn’t know this was th-the prefect compartment! Honest! If I did, I wouldn’t have come in here, and-”
“Just go.” the head boy demanded, pointing towards the door.
Neville turned to Hermione and they shuffled out of the compartment. Once the door was safely shut, they turned to each other. Their grave expressions turned into grins immediately, as both of them bent over with laughter.
“I-I-I think,” Hermione wheezed through laughs. “We should keep looking. Or we’re never going to get anything done.” Neville nodded in agreement. “Maybe we should split up, now that we know what compartment not to go in. Okay, I’ll go this way, and you can go that way. We can meet up in… say, thirty minutes?”
“Okay.” Neville turned to the right, and passed the prefects compartment. Thirty minutes passed, and he still found nothing. He returned, very disheveled and spotted Hermione waiting for him. “Did you find him?”
“No,” she said, disappointedly.
“Me either. I think I saw Harry Potter, though,” Neville said, trying to appear excited.
“Oh, really?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. “M-maybe we should take each others’ sides. A new eye sometimes does the trick.”
“I suppose,” Neville said with a shrug. But as Hermione turned to leave, he followed her quietly. He didn’t know why she thought it was necessary to recheck the place that he had examined so carefully, but was dying of curiosity to find out.
Once she reached Harry Potter’s compartment, he stood in the shadows, watching everything. From the beginning, she seemed to like him. He could tell; she had the same expressions as he had when he saw her. When she started to leave, Neville dashed to the spot where they had met up, and sat down, looking as though he had been waiting for her.
“Any luck?” he asked.
“Er, no,” Hermione said quietly.
~*~*~
Since that day, Neville had never been able to get Hermione’s attention when Harry was around. It infuriated him. He knew her longer. He had trusted her while Harry had been fighting with her…
“Neville?” Hermione had her hand on Neville’s shoulder.
He felt his heart skip a beat as he closed his eyes. “Er, yeah?” he said, reopening them.
“You okay? You got really quiet.”
“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just… pensive.” He sighed and picked up his book. “I-I have to go.” He started to leave, but Hermione was accidentally blocking his path. For a few seconds, they got caught in the awkward situation of being unable to get out of the lock, when finally, Neville stepped a little too far to the right. The shelf wobbled dangerously, but thankfully didn’t fall. A few heavy volumes fell off of their shelf and landed loudly on the ground.
Blushing heavily, he walked past Hermione and to the front. He placed the book he had been reading on top of the books for school, and tapped his foot anxiously as the wizard rung him up. Finally, Neville handed him the gold and took his books. Trotting out of the store, he stopped once he reached the safety of the outdoors.
As he began on his way down Diagon Alley, he turned to the lit windows of Flourish and Blott’s, seeing a shadow with very bushy hair facing the window. He sped up, and passed the old bookshop quickly.
Night at Diagon Alley was nothing like it in the day. It had a little bit of an eerie feeling about it. A group of cackling Cornish pixies whizzed past his ear. A few minutes later, a bat screeched into the darkness. Speeding up, Neville reached the Leaky Cauldron and sighed. He reached the fireplace, and pulled out the pouch his grandmother had given him. Taking the pinch of Floo Powder that was inside, he threw it into the flames.
“The Longbottoms’!”