“Neville, Neville!” called a voice as if from somewhere deep and far away. “Get up, Neville, you’re late!” Neville uncomfortably roused himself from his deep slumber and his eyes swam into focus. Seamus, already dressed, was leaning over him and pushing his shoulder. “Come on! You’ve got ten minutes! Harry and Ron were up ages ago!”
Very slowly, and with no coordination, Neville levered himself out of bed and began automatically to get dressed. He barely noticed when he put his shoes on the wrong feet, until he tried to stand up. He briefly attempted to comb his hair, but gave up as there wasn’t time. Dean, who had been waiting for them, thrust a pile of books into Neville’s hands and they all went down for breakfast in the Great Hall.
Normally Neville liked breakfast, it was his favourite meal of the day as he felt he always needed it to get going in the morning. Today however he found he couldn’t enjoy it at all, he was so nervous. He kept glancing at his watch, terrified of the approach of 9 am, when classes would begin. To take his mind off things, he studied his timetable. First years at Hogwarts took seven subjects, and looking down the list, he wasn’t entirely sure what half of them even meant. Defence Against the Dark Arts sounded terrifying, and he doubted he could even spell or pronounce Transfiguration, let alone know what it was. Still, Fridays looked good, only one subject, Potions, and then the whole afternoon off. He suspected that would be his favourite day.
He had barely noticed that Hermione had sat down next to him and was now leaning over his shoulder, examining the timetable. “All ready?” she asked enthusiastically. I’m looking forward to Charms the most, but Transfiguration is said to be the most challenging. Shame it’s not till Thursday. I can hardly wait. What about you?” Neville merely nodded weakly. “Oh, come on,” she said, “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as that. Everyone’s in the same position, you know.”
“You’re not,” replied Neville. “I bet you know most of the course already.” To his surprise Hermione laughed.
“Of course I don’t, Neville,” she said. “I’m Muggle-born, remember? It’s all books with me. You’ve actually lived it. I envy you in a way. Tell you what, let’s sit next to each other in classes this week and we’ll compare how well we each do. I bet you’ll be surprised. Come on, that’s the bell for the first lesson. We have to find our way over to greenhouse one.”
And so the school week began, and Neville and Hermione sat together all week. Unfortunately Hermione insisted on sitting at the front every lesson, so she could best see the blackboard and easily get the teacher’s attention. Neville felt terribly exposed up at the front, as if all the other children behind were staring at him, which, given who he was, they probably were. Also it made him feel as if the teachers picked on him more than everyone, which almost certainly wasn’t true, but it seemed that way.
In truth, Hermione’s “contest” was nothing of the sort, she easily outshone Neville in every class. But Neville quickly forgot about the challenge, as Hermione was very friendly and helpful, if a little bossy at times. As she was regularly ahead of the class at most times, she would have time to help Neville and correct any of his mistakes, which were sadly numerous. An outside observer might have noted that Hermione was heavily talking down to Neville, and largely bossing him about, but Neville didn’t notice. He was genuinely grateful for the help, as it made the ordeal of lessons that little bit easier. Hermione didn’t notice either. She seemed to have appointed herself the role of private tutor, and was relishing it.
The first lesson they had that week, Herbology, Neville found to his surprise that he actually enjoyed. Quite why he found plants so fascinating, he wasn’t sure, but Professor Sprout was an engaging and infectiously enthusiastic teacher, and some of that enthusiasm seemed to rub off on Neville. Also the informal atmosphere of the greenhouse was much more to Neville’s liking than a traditional, stuffy classroom. He even considered volunteering to answer a question at one point.
History of Magic proved the complete opposite to Herbology. Professor Binns, the teacher, was a ghost and seemed to have made it the ambition of his afterlife to bore his students into the same state. He sat at the front of his classes, reading in his monotonous dry voice from his ethereal sheets of notes, without even bothering to make eye contact with the class. Neville, who initially found the appearance of a ghost fascinating, was quickly pushed into boredom, and several times Hermione had to give him a gentle kick in the shin to stop him from dozing off. By the end of a lesson, Neville’s leg would be quite sore.
Charms, with the tiny Professor Flitwick, turned out to be one of the most difficult and challenging subjects, being primarily concerned with wand use and the techniques and practical skills associated with spell-casting. Though Neville found his wand was a good one, he simply couldn’t manage even the most basic of assignments, no matter how carefully he listened to Hermione’s patient advice. He found the whole business horribly frustrating.
Neville took an instant dislike to Astronomy, mainly because it meant he was stuck on top of a freezing high tower at midnight instead of in his warm bed. Also it was largely based on memorising a lot of very dry and dull facts about various stars and planets and Neville’s memory simply wasn’t up to it. He spent much of break time the next morning patiently copying Hermione’s notes.
Defence Against the Dark Arts was, as it turned out, taken by the young turbaned wizard, who introduced himself as Professor Quirrell. The class was a somewhat curious one. True, they didn’t really learn that much, since Quirrell seemed incapable of focusing on any one topic and fretted and fussed about enormously, but Neville quite liked the perennially flustered teacher. He seemed, if it was possible, even more nervous about being there than Neville himself and had a terrible stutter which he gamely tried to overcome, Neville thought. Plus he didn’t seem to focus on or pick out Neville as much as the other teachers, it seemed.
Transfiguration on Thursday afternoons proved an absolute nightmare. Professor McGonagall was the teacher, and also head of Gryffindor House which she seemed to think, in Neville’s opinion, gave her the right to be brutally tough with her charges. The slightest mistake or error by anyone was immediately criticised and challenged. The tasks they were set were impossibly difficult, indeed in the first week only Hermione got anywhere and even she looked disappointed with the outcome. McGonagall had initially reminded Neville of Gran. Now he thought she was even stricter than Gran. At least Gran didn’t expect Neville to do the impossible.
By the time they got to Friday morning, Neville was already thoroughly depressed and his mood was not lightened when Hermione informed him that their Potions lesson was a double one, and was shared with the Slytherins. Neville was quickly realising the animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin, though he’d yet to experience it himself. Everyone treated him with an odd, unsure kind of attitude, as if they didn’t know what to make of him, and the Slytherins had been no different.
“Who’s the teacher for Potions?” asked Neville.
“Um, Professor Snape,” said Hermione, running her finger down the timetable. “Head of Slytherin.”
“Oh, great,” said Neville. “I bet he’ll be all biased towards them. And he’s bound to hate us Gryffindors.”
“Oh come on, I’m sure not. He’s a Hogwarts teacher. He’ll be fair.”
“Do you know for sure? Do you know anything about him?”
“No,” said Hermione. “Come on, we’ll be late.” Neville followed her down to the Potions classroom, which he discovered were rather ominously located in the dungeons beneath the castle. He filed into the classroom and followed Hermione to the front. Behind him he heard several whispers and mutterings and looked round at those Slytherins who’d already entered. Most of them were staring unapologetically straight at him, with expressions as if he were a piece of dirt. Near the back Neville recognised Draco Malfoy with an ugly smirk on his face.
Neville could swear he felt a certain coldness when Professor Snape walked into the room. Neville swung round and to his horror recognised him as the greasy-haired, sallow-faced wizard he’d seen at the start-of-term feast. Snape swept into the room in his long black cloak, put his hands down on his desk and surveyed the class with a cold sharp stare. The room became completely hushed and nobody dared to move. Snape commanded instant respect, indeed demanded it without even saying a word. After a long pause he judged enough to make all his students sufficiently uncomfortable, Snape spoke.
“The art of potion making is among the most subtle and precise arts you will learn here,” he said. “Any fool can throw out a spell with the right words and a good wand, but to brew the right potion requires the careful and skilled application of the mind. Many and wondrous are the things I can teach you here, but…” and suddenly his voice raised to a snarl, “…ONLY IF YOU WILL LEARN! POTTER!” he suddenly yelled, standing bolt upright and staring to the back of the class. Everyone’s heads turned to look at Harry who was sitting at the back next to Ron. Harry froze, half leaning over where he had been whispering to his friend. “Undoubtedly Mr Weasley’s words are far more interesting than my own, but perhaps if you have any interest in passing this class and remaining in Hogwarts you will pay attention! Five points from Gryffindor.” Harry merely stared at Snape, but the teacher had turned his attention away.
Snape set them all to work preparing a simple potion to test their basic skills, and everyone got their cauldrons out and set to work. Neville however soon forgot what he was doing and tried to copy Hermione’s actions. But Snape noticed. “Longbottom! It is Longbottom, isn’t it? Yes, I can see. Clearly you think your fame means you don’t have to work for yourself.”
“No, no, sir,” muttered Neville.
Snape leaned right in front of him staring straight into his eyes. “Don’t contradict me, boy,” he snapped. “Now try to get on with your work without relying on your neighbour.” He turned away and went to inspect other students, but Neville’s hands were shaking. For the rest of the unbearably long lesson he had the constant feeling that Snape was watching him. The moment it seemed like he was making even the slightest mistake Snape would leap on it with withering criticism that would leave Neville feeling even worse.
The only person in the class that seemed to be faring worse than Neville was Harry. Snape prowled around the back of his class in front of Harry’s desk for much of the lesson, taking every opportunity he could to criticise and challenge him. Harry, normally a very cheerful and confident boy, was visibly shaken by the experience, particularly as Ron next to him was doing exactly the same and not getting the same treatment. In general as well, Snape favoured the Slytherins as Neville had predicted. Draco in particular seemed to be enjoying the suffering meted out to the Gryffindors.
Neville got through the lesson unscathed, barely, but Snape failed his potion all the same for adding one too many snake fangs. When Snape finally dismissed the class for lunch, Neville found his legs were shaking as he left the room, and Hermione had to help him. As they got to the door, Draco shoved past them. “Can’t stand on your own feet, Longbottom?” he snapped viciously. “Maybe they can’t support all that weight of yours.” He strode off before anyone could reply.
Over lunch Hermione did her best to comfort Neville, who for a moment was all for packing up and quitting Hogwarts immediately. As they were finishing, Ron and Harry passed by where they were sitting and Harry stopped when he saw Neville. “Hey, you OK Neville?” he asked. “That git Snape was a bit hard on you too.”
“I’m fine,” said Neville weakly.
“Why does he hate you so much, though, I wonder?” Hermione asked.
“Oh, that’s a long story,” said Harry, but now Ron was tugging at his sleeve. “Sorry, got to go,” he said and rushed off.
“What do you suppose they’re always up to?” asked Neville.
“Trouble, I expect,” said Hermione. I’d be careful of those two if I were you. Come on, I want to go and explore the library.” They left the Great Hall together.
Neville Longbottom and the Philosopher's Stone by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which we follow Neville through his first classes and his first encounter with Snape.