“Come on Neville, hurry up,” said Hermione. Neville plodded out of the door to the car. “Have you got your Hogwarts letter?” she asked. Neville patted his pocket in confirmation and clambered into the back seat next to Hermione. Today, barely a week since Neville arrived at the Grangers’, they were off to London for the annual visit to Diagon Alley, to collect their Hogwarts supplies for the coming year. Hermione wanted to go today in particular because apparently some famous author called Lockhart was doing a book signing. Neville had never heard of him, but Hermione inevitably had and was full of praise.
They had to go by car of course and Neville didn’t enjoy the journey. He sat uncomfortably in the back seat, fidgeting the whole time with boredom and saying nothing. He already missed the instant travel of the Floo Network. He wondered how Muggles didn’t go nuts sitting in cars for hours on end, especially when they got stuck in a traffic jam all the way into the metropolis.
Having eventually found a place to park, they made their way down onto Charing Cross Road. There, amongst the assorted bookshops and other stores, they located the dim, bland entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. They had to stand there for a minute, convincing Hermione’s parents that the door actually was there, then, checking the street to see that no one was looking, they slipped inside. “It took nearly ten minutes to get them through last year,” said Hermione.
The instant Neville entered, he felt back in the world of the familiar. The surroundings were recognisably wizardly, the people looked ordinary. He felt guilty almost at the relief. Then he realised everyone was looking at them.
At first he naturally thought everyone was staring at him, he was used to that reaction by now. But slowly he saw that it wasn’t him, it was the Grangers they were looking at. At once Neville was aware of how out of place they looked. They seemed quite aware of it themselves and walked hurriedly to the back alleyway through the silent pub.
Once there, they had to lift Hermione up to tap on the wall and open up the gateway to Diagon Alley. The Grangers held their heads up high as they walked down the wizarding street, ignoring any glances that they got. To be fair, Neville saw that most of the glances were purely benign and inquisitive, but he knew more than most it wasn’t nice to be gawked at.
Their first point of call was Gringotts so the Grangers could exchange their Muggle money. It was Neville’s first look at the goblins and he couldn’t say he liked what he saw. Although he had to admit they didn’t distinguish at all between wizards and Muggles, all they saw was the money.
Just as the goblin at their counter was counting out the requisite Galleons and Sickles, they were approached by a middle-aged gentleman with a kindly face. “Anything I can help you with?” he asked pleasantly.
“No, I think we’re just about done here,” said Mr Granger. Hermione tugged at his trousers. “Oh, though if you know where… where was it Hermione? Oh yes, where Flourish and Blotts is, I’d be most grateful.”
The man smiled. “I’m just on my way there myself, I can show you if you like.”
“Thank you. John Granger.”
“Arthur Weasley,” said the man, and shook Mr Granger’s hand vigorously.
Neville noticed that, though balding, the man had wisps of undeniably red hair. “Excuse me,” he said. “Are you Ron Weasley’s father?”
“Why, yes I am, son,” said Mr Weasley looking down. He did a momentary double take, which he did his best to conceal. “It is Neville, isn’t it?” he said. “Neville Longbottom, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Neville reluctantly took the proffered hand and received an equally vigorous shake. “Ron told us you were in his year. Is your Gran not about?”
“I’ve been staying with the Grangers,” Neville explained. “This is my friend Hermione.” Hermione received another handshake and eventually, introductions over, they all filed out of Gringotts. Mr Weasley called out in the direction of a Quidditch supplies shop, where a boy had his nose pressed up against the glass.
“Ron, get over here,” he cried. “Look who I’ve just bumped into.” Ron came over, a little disappointed at being dragged away from the shop. “It’s a couple of your school friends. We’re all going up to Flourish and Blotts. Come on, the rest of the family will already be there.” He set off up the street with Mr and Mrs Granger. “If you don’t mind me asking, you are Muggles aren’t you?” he could be heard saying. “Only I’ve always wondered: how do those things you call aeroplanes stay up?”
Ron did not look particularly overjoyed to see Neville and Hermione. “Hello Neville, hello Granger,” he said weakly.
“Weasley,” nodded Hermione, without much feeling.
“You two still aren’t speaking to each other?” said Neville, frustrated. “I thought we’d got over that at the end of last year, after all we went through.”
“Yeah, we’re speaking to each other,” said Hermione. “It’s just we’ve got nothing to say.” They walked along behind the adults in silence, Neville in between the other two. As they approached the bookshop, Ron noticed someone up ahead outside and ran on past them. Neville could see it was Harry Potter, Ron’s best friend and Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He had apparently been waiting outside for Ron. Neville quite liked Harry, even though they were very different. Despite their combined efforts in saving the Philosopher’s Stone at the end of last year, however, it appeared that Hermione had not entirely yet shaken off her grudge against the two of them.
“Look at them,” she said. “A permanent pair, those two. Never seem to let each other out of their sight.” Harry and Ron now disappeared inside the shop.
“Come on, Hermione,” said Neville. “Give them a break. They’re alright, you know. Remember all the help they gave us. They didn’t have to do it.”
“I suppose,” said Hermione grudgingly. They followed Mr Weasley and Hermione’s parents inside.
Flourish and Blotts was packed with people and Neville forced his way through the crowd following the Grangers. Mr Weasley was now enthusiastically introducing them to the rest of his extensive family. Neville had never seen so many redheads in one place. There was Mrs Weasley, with a pleasant smile but a weary glance at her husband. Percy, the self-important prefect Neville remembered from his second year, stood behind his mother. The twins, Fred and George, were there too, but they’d wandered off to a corner with Ron and Harry, whispering to each other. Neville noticed a dark-haired man hovering nearby, watching them.
A young girl at Mrs Weasley’s side, holding her hand, watched them go and made to follow them. Mrs Weasley held her back. “No, Ginny,” she said. “You stay here. I don’t want you running off and getting lost.” Ginny reluctantly obeyed.
Neville and Hermione finally got through the crowd and reached the Weasleys. When Arthur introduced him, Neville immediately heard everyone around him go quiet for an instant. He hated moments like this and didn’t look up. Mrs Weasley put a motherly hand on his shoulder. “Good to meet you, Neville,” she said. “Come on, let’s get a better view.” Neville nodded and glanced at Ginny, who grinned and looked away quickly but stayed clutching her mother’s hand.
They managed to get a little closer to the front of the shop and Neville peered through the crowd to see what all the fuss was about. Standing behind a desk piled high with books a man, wearing absurdly bright coloured robes and a smile that seemed to want to tear itself right off his face, was making a speech. Neville listened.
“… and then the great troll smashed down his club right on top of me,” the man was saying, “but I was too quick for him and leapt aside. As he overbalanced, one swift boot to his backside and the troll plummeted down the mountainside to his doom. I swept up the girl, jumped on my broom, returned her to her grateful parents and still made it to cut the ribbon at the Quidditch stadium opening on time.” There was a generous round of applause. Mrs Weasley and Hermione, who’d come to Neville’s side, seemed particularly impressed. “Thank you, thank you. The full story is found in chapter seven of my new autobiography.”
He held up one of the books, the cover of which read Magical Me “ by Gilderoy Lockhart. “On sale now for the bargain price of 2 Galleons, 3 Sickles, and a copy signed by my humble self is, believe me, priceless.” His smile once again widened to disconcerting proportions and he smoothed back his hair as he gazed on his adoring public. Suddenly his eyes fell on Neville for a moment and a strange, quizzical look appeared on his face. Neville instinctively disliked the look, though he didn’t know why, and ducked down out of sight. He heard Lockhart mutter a brief “hey”, but not follow it up as Neville wriggled back out of the crowd towards the entrance.
Lockhart did not dwell on the possibility that he might have spotted Neville Longbottom, and continued with his two favourite pastimes, talking about himself and signing books. Mrs Weasley and Hermione joined the queue. Neville pushed his way clear of the throng and looked around for the Grangers. But at that moment something struck him on the side of the head. It was a book. Looking up to see who through it, he was horrified to see Draco Malfoy standing on the staircase with an ugly grin of triumph on his face. “Try ducking faster, Longbottom, or can’t you get any lower?” he sneered.
Draco Malfoy had made Neville’s life a misery at every opportunity last year and Neville had never really understood why. Sure, he was a Slytherin and Neville a Gryffindor, but it had seemed more personal than that. Maybe he was just a soft target, Draco must know Neville would never fight back.
Draco came down the stairs and loomed over Neville. He was a good few inches taller. “Longbottom! What a stupid name,” he said. “I think I’ll call you Short-arse. Much better.” Neville bristled but said nothing.
“Draco, who are you talking to?” said a smooth, oily voice from behind Malfoy. Draco span round quickly as if he’d had a shock. Neville looked up. Standing in the doorway was a tall man who looked very much like Draco to Neville. They shared the same pale blond hair, the same cold look in their eyes and the same effortless air of self-importance. He looked down on Neville and for a moment his eyes flickered with surprise before the veneer of disinterest returned.
“Well, well. Neville Longbottom,” he said slickly. “Delighted to meet you. Lucius Malfoy at your service.” He offered his hand, Neville didn’t take it. His Gran had told him something about Draco’s father, he couldn’t remember what, but it hadn’t been complimentary. “No need to be shy, Neville,” continued Lucius, without a hint of offence. “I’m sure your grandmother has taught you most carefully about talking to strangers. I understand. Is she here?” Neville shook his head. “Hmm, pity. I would love to meet her.”
“He’s here with Granger,” said Draco. “I saw them from up there. Them and…”
“Thank you, Draco,” snapped Lucius. Draco fell silent. Lucius scanned the crowd. “Yes, Draco has told me about your friend and her family. And there she is now, I see.” Neville looked round. Hermione was indeed coming out of the crowd alongside Mrs Weasley, Ginny still clinging to her hand. They were piled down with books, Ginny carrying hers in a heavily laden cauldron. “Well isn’t this appropriate,” Lucius sneered. “She’s among Weasleys.”
Mrs Weasley bristled angrily when she saw Lucius Malfoy. “Neville, come away from him,” she said.
“Good morning, Molly,” Lucius smiled, approaching Mrs Weasley. “I trust you and your family are quite well. I see you have found some other … charges to take care of.” He gave a dismissive look down at Hermione, who looked very uncomfortable.
“Malfoy, what do you think you’re doing?” Arthur Weasley had now come over from where he had been talking to the Grangers, a look of contempt on his face. “Leave my family alone.”
“Just engaging in a bit of polite conversation, Arthur.” Malfoy looked over Mr Weasley’s shoulder. “Were those Muggles you were talking with, Arthur? Dear me, dear me, I don’t care what get up to at home, but must you embarrass us all in public?”
Arthur squared straight up to Lucius. “Listen to me, Malfoy,” he said calmly. “Out of respect for everyone here, I suggest we continue this conversation outside.”
Lucius smiled. “Why should we, Arthur? I am quite comfortable here. It is always so much of a pleasure talking to you.”
By now others were gathering round to see what was going on. Harry, Ron, Fred and George had come out from the back clutching their newly bought textbooks. Following them was the dark-haired man Neville had seen earlier. He had a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Lucius spotted him and grinned. “And speaking of disgraces to pure-blood wizardry,” he said, “here’s none other than Sirius Black. Morning, Sirius. Long time no see. Cissy would send her regards I’m sure.”
“Very funny, Malfoy,” snarled the man identified as Sirius Black, who looked extremely angry.
Lucius looked down at the children around him and shook his head. “So many Weasleys, so little worth. And I guess you must be Potter,” he said, looking at Harry. “It’s a shame you ended up among all this.”
“Sirius!” yelled Mr Weasley in warning, but it was too late. Black had lunged straight at Malfoy, arms outstretched as if to throttle him. They both crashed to the ground. Harry leapt in to help, Ron, Fred and George joined him. Draco waded in on the side of his father and suddenly before Neville’s eyes the situation descended into a free-for-all. Fists were flying left, right and centre. A huge crowd was now gathered to see what was going on but no-one tried to stop it. Even Ginny tried to get involved, but Mrs Weasley held her back.
Eventually Mrs Weasley herself managed to pull Sirius and her husband back and the brawl was over. Everyone collected up their books in sullen silence. Lucius got to his feet, brushed down his robes, gave Ginny a slow, condescending pat on the head and, trailed by Draco, stalked out of the shop.
Neville watched them go. “What was that all about?” he asked Hermione.
“I have no idea,” Hermione replied. Mr Weasley had now gone back over to the Grangers, apologising profusely for what had happened. The crowd had begun to disperse. Fred, George, Harry and Ron were already laughing amongst themselves, they seemed to think they had scored some kind of victory. Things were returning to normal.
As they were about to leave, Sirius Black approached Neville. “Sorry about all that,” he said, with a wicked grin on his face that suggested he wasn’t the least bit sorry. “A lot of history there. It’s an honour to meet you, Neville.”
“Er, thank you,” said Neville. He hated it when this happened. “If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”
“I’m Harry’s godfather,” he replied. “Harry’s told me all about you. I’m glad you’re doing well. Goodbye, Neville. I’m sure I’ll see you again some time.” With that, he turned and together with Harry walked out of Flourish and Blotts and disappeared down the street.
Neville Longbottom and the Chamber of Secrets by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which Neville is privy to a bust-up in Flourish and Blotts and encounters Gilderoy Lockhart.