Neville Longbottom and the Philosopher's Stone -- 3

[elizabeth_hoot]

Chapter Three

King’s Cross, London

1 September 1991

The Blacks simply walked to King’s Cross, which was only about twenty minutes from Grimmauld Place. Their feeble attempts to look inconspicuous had clearly failed - despite the absence of robes or hats, they drew the eye of everyone they passed. The Muggles gawked at Persephone, at the men’s waistcoats and the women’s gowns - at pretty much everything, really. Most of the Blacks put on an air of superiority and ignored them; Sirius seemed amused, and James blissfully oblivious. Harry and Neville tried not to stare.

Neville thought of living without magic and shuddered. At least these ones didn’t know what they were missing.

They got to King’s Cross without incident, and James and Sirius, who were pushing their things in practically unenchanted carts, stopped and grinned. ‘You know what to do,’ said Sirius.

Neville looked at the apparently solid barrier, gulped, and nodded.

‘You’ll want to take it at a bit of a run,’ James advised.

‘Okay,’ Harry said, his face pasty white as he wrapped his fingers around the handle. Then, as soon as a group of people went past, he took the cart and rushed forward. Neville stood on tiptoe to watch, but a large group of Muggles swarmed past, and when they were finally gone, so was Harry.

A plump woman surrounded by red-haired boys was saying, ‘- packed with Muggles, of course -’

Sirius grinned. James merely looked cross, but said kindly enough, ‘Go on, Neville. It’ll be fine, you’ll see.’

But what if he wasn’t magic enough to get through? Neville gathered what courage he possessed and pushed the trolley forward, faster as people jostled him, eyes wide as the barrier came nearer and nearer - he began running - the cart was just going, he could only hang on - he squeezed his eyes shut, praying for anything but humiliation -

And kept on running. Neville opened his eyes up. There was a scarlet steam engine waiting next to a platform, and behind him, a sign read Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He was here.

There were people everywhere - very obviously wizarding people, with cats everywhere and hooting owls, and most people in - in Hogwarts robes! He was going to Hogwarts! Until that moment, it had always been something in the future, something not quite real. And now - there were a few of the first carriages already packed with students. A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a crowd, crying, ‘Give us a look, Lee, go on.’ The boy lifted the lid of the enormous box in his arms, and a long, hairy spider’s leg poked out. Everyone yelled and Neville was only a hair away from doing so himself, when he heard-

‘Neville!’

It was Harry, looking ruffled and excited. He hadn’t been running so fast so he was still near the barrier, their family around him. Neville pushed his trolley towards them.

‘Well,’ said Cassie, looking uncharacteristically tearful, ‘this is it.’

‘Don’t you dare cry in public,’ Arcturus warned her. His own wife was openly sniffling. Neville gave her a hug.

Enid and Algie and Cygnus and Neville’s grandfather were at home, ostensibly keeping the wards up, but his gran wrapped her arms around him, squeezing the air right out of him.

‘Eep,’ said Neville. ‘I’ll be fine, Gran, really . . .’

‘Promise you’ll write.’

‘I will, I swear.’

Callidora kissed the top of his head. ‘Be a good boy, Neville.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

Sirius was ruffling Harry’s hair, his grey eyes anxious. ‘Take care of yourself, Harry, and look out for Neville. And both of you, don’t forget to cause a bit of mayhem here and there.’

‘Sirius!’ about nine voices chorused. He laughed.

‘Remember who you are,’ said Arcturus, pinning Harry with a fierce look.

‘Yes, uncle,’ said Harry, with what passed for meekness in him.

‘And you, Neville, don’t allow anyone to push you around.’

Neville nodded.

Violetta said laconically, ‘Good luck, boys,’ then added, ‘you’ll need it.’

‘I know you’ll do well,’ James said quietly. Neville instantly flushed up. ‘Learn what you can, but don’t get too worried, make some new friends. It’ll be fine.’ Then he winked. ‘And don’t let Harry walk all over you.’

‘Thanks, Uncle James,’ he said, rubbing his eyes furiously. ‘I will, I’ll try my hardest.’

‘Do your best, that’s all,’ James replied, embracing him tightly. ‘All right, you two, you’d better head off.’

Harry hugged his sisters. ‘Bye, Helen, bye, Chloe.’

‘Send us something interesting!’ Helen cried.

‘Bye, Harry,’ said Chloe soberly.

‘Bye, Dad, Uncle Sirius . . . Uncle Arcturus . . . Aunt Melania . . .’

‘- goodbye, Gran - I won’t dishonour the family name, I promise - bye, Grandma,- yes, I’ll take very good care of Persephone - bye, Uncle Sirius, Uncle James - ’

And then it was time to go. Even Harry was wiping his eyes as they waved goodbye the last time, just before the Blacks went back to King’s Cross.

‘All right,’ said Harry, straightening up, ‘we’d better get going, Neville.’ They pressed through the crowd, but practically every compartment was full. They stopped at one towards the back of the train, occupied only by a small, dark-haired girl.

‘Hi,’ called Harry. ‘Do you mind if we sit with you?’

‘No,’ she replied indifferently. They put Persephone inside, then began trying to shove and heave his trunk towards the train door. He and Neville just managed to lift it up the stairs, then dropped it on their feet.

‘Oww!’ Neville exclaimed. ‘Isn’t there a better way?’

‘Wingardium Leviosa,’ said a voice from behind them. Harry and Neville both started. Behind them was a tall boy, perhaps a fourth year, with neat brown hair and pleasant grey eyes. He carefully levitated Harry’s trunk into the compartment, then Neville’s.

‘Thanks,’ Harry said gratefully. ‘I never thought of a levitation charm. Stupid of me, really.’ He held out his hand. ‘Harry Potter.’

The boy shook it and replied, ‘You’re welcome - I’m Cedric Diggory.’

‘I’m Neville,’ Neville blurted.

Cedric’s brows rose, but he only replied in a quiet voice, ‘A pleasure to meet you both’ and left.

‘That was nice of him,’ Neville said, sitting down on the empty seat. ‘I don’t think we could have done it.’

‘He’s probably just a nice person.’ Harry turned to look at the girl, who had lifted her head to examine both of them. She was clearly another first year, her uniform unrelieved by any hint of House colours.

‘You’re Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said Harry firmly. ‘I’m Harry. He’s Neville.’

‘You’re not so alike that I’d mix you up.’ Neville blushed. He knew he couldn’t be less like his slim, dark cousin if he tried.

‘We don’t know who you are, though,’ Harry hinted.

‘Daphne Greengrass.’

‘You’re related to the Mr Greengrass in the Ministry?’

‘Yes.’ Daphne looked pleased. ‘Dad’s the head of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.’

‘Cool,’ said Harry. ‘My father talks about him a bit.’

‘I think they’re working together on something,’ she said. ‘I’m not really sure what. Dad doesn’t talk about what’s going on at work much.’

‘I don’t either,’ Harry admitted. ‘But knowing Dad . . .’

Daphne laughed. ‘Right.’

Neville had no idea what they were talking about, and was rather glad when two more girls showed up at the compartment - especially since one of them was Susan!

‘Everywhere else is full,’ her companion, a girl with large teeth and bushy brown hair, said. ‘Can we sit with you?’

‘Unless it’s too much trouble,’ Susan added.

Harry and Daphne muttered agreement, while Neville said enthusiastically, ‘No, of course it’s not. Harry, scoot over. Oh . . . the trunks.’

All five looked at them in some dismay. They were smaller than Harry and Neville’s, but not by much.

‘Longbottom, why don’t you cast that spell Diggory used?’ Daphne suggested.

Neville eyed his wand. ‘Er . . .’

‘I’ll do it,’ said Harry. ‘Wingardium Leviosa!’

It was the first spell they’d learnt, and Harry had spent most of his time since Diagon Alley levitating everything that wasn’t bolted down. The trunk’s movement was shakier than when Cedric had done it, but he managed well enough, though he was panting by the time he finished.

‘Phew!’ He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

‘Thanks,’ said Bushy Hair, plopping down. ‘I tried that at home, and it seemed pretty versatile . . . but then we got these letters . . .’

‘Restriction of Underage Sorcery?’ Susan asked sympathetically. ‘Yes, my auntie told me that I’d get those if I tried anything more than particularly coloured sparks.’

‘Susan’s aunt is in the Ministry too,’ Neville told Harry proudly. Susan blushed.

‘I’m Susan Bones, by the way,’ she said.

‘Daphne Greengrass,’ said Daphne.

‘Harry Potter.’

‘Neville Longbottom.’

‘Oh!’ Bushy Hair cried. ‘Are you really? I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.’

‘I know,’ said Neville in a gloomy tone. ‘At least, I didn’t know about the second one, but I’m not surprised.’

‘Anything about the fall of the Dark Arts isn’t likely to be in the library at . . .’ Harry’s mouth worked. ‘At home,’ he finished weakly.

‘Kind of stupid, really,’ Neville went on, warming to his subject. ‘It’s not like I can remember anything but some green light. It doesn’t make me special or anything, I’m rubbish at magic.’ He shook his wand with a scowl.

There was a silence. Then Bushy Hair said, ‘You have a library? Really?’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry, ‘all the old families do, really . . . what’s your name, anyway? I can’t just call you “Girl.” ’

Or Bushy Hair, thought Neville.

‘Oh! I’m Hermione Granger,’ she said, and before anybody could respond, she went on hurriedly, ‘nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course; I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard - I’ve learnt all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - ’

‘It won’t,’ said Daphne. ‘Magic isn’t just about rattling spells off, you know.’

Hermione looked rather put out.

‘So, er, how did you hear about Hogwarts, if your family isn’t magic?’ Neville interjected.

‘Well, when the letter showed up - before the Muggle Liaison people came - we figured out that about half the people in this village where I live were probably magical, because we’d seen them getting owls before, though they tried not to be conspicuous or anything. We thought there must be some sort of bird society or something, but it turned out they were all just witches and wizards, and only one of them had been to Hogwarts but they all agreed it was the best school of magic in Europe.’ She paused for breath, then went on, ‘Do any of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best - ’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Harry bluntly. Neville stared at him.

‘Harry,’ he hissed, ‘what’s wr - ’

‘Harry’s right,’ Susan said unexpectedly.

Daphne stiffened. ‘Gryffindor’s got a good reputation, but it’s only best if you think courage is more important than the other things, learning and loyalty and determination.’

‘Dumbledore was in there, though, wasn’t he?’ Hermione asked, her brows furrowing.

‘Yes,’ said Susan quietly, ‘it’s where he met Alexander Nott.’

The name was only vaguely familiar to Neville, but Hermione clearly had not been exaggerating about the volume of her reading; her eyes turned enormous. ‘Really? But how could he be there? He wasn’t - ’

‘Oh, he was courageous enough, personally,’ Daphne said. ‘Being brave doesn’t mean . . . well . . . that you’re not evil too.’

Harry laughed, but there was a sharp, bitter edge to it that seemed very un-Harry-like. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘Neville and I know all about that.’

‘We do?’ Neville stared at him.

‘Peter Pettigrew, Neville.’ With a twist of his lips, he added, ‘And Barty Crouch.’

‘Oh!’ Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. Nobody said what house they’d been in!’

‘It’s all right,’ Neville told her.

‘Well,’ Daphne said brightly, ‘I want Ravenclaw. Slytherins and Gryffindors never know when to run away and I don’t think I want to be, you know, just another Hufflepuff. I’d like to be a scholar.’

‘I thought you didn’t like books,’ muttered Hermione.

‘Oh, I love them; I just know that I have to think about what I read too.’ Daphne tossed her head. ‘What about you, Susan?’

‘I’d like Hufflepuff,’ she said shyly, ‘like Auntie Amelia. I don’t really like being singled out, but you can do just as great things in groups. People say they’re duffers but they’re not!’

Daphne nodded. ‘That makes sense - that you’d want Hufflepuff, I mean. And if your family’s been there, you’ve got a chance.’

‘Though not for sure,’ warned Neville. ‘Harry’s godfather is the only person in his family who wasn’t in Slytherin, so it can happen.’

‘Not often, though,’ Harry added, with a cheerful smile. ‘I hope you get there, Susan.’

‘Thanks.’ She bit her lip. ‘What about the rest of you?’

‘Courage is important,’ fretted Hermione. ‘I’ve always really admired brave people. But I like reading and knowing things best. And it’s the only way I’ll get anywhere - it’s not like I’m really bold or loyal . . . and it’s more useful than anything else . . . but maybe I ought to think . . .’

‘Ravenclaw or Gryffindor,’ said Daphne easily. ‘Whatever the test is, that’ll sort it out for you. But don’t let people tell you what to think. Or else you’ll end up in - ’ She snapped her mouth shut with a sideways glance at Susan.

‘You were sounding pretty Slytherin there for a bit, too,’ Harry added, grinning. ‘If you weren’t Muggleborn, I bet you’d have a good chance.’

Hermione blinked. ‘Why does that matter? I mean - that was ages ago that people were fighting about that, wasn’t it?’

‘Ten years,’ said Neville. What books had she been reading? Surely she knew -

‘But that doesn’t make any sense! I mean, this is 1991, it’s not the sort of thing that happens anymore. It couldn’t be, because I read that - ’

‘Look, Granger,’ Daphne said suddenly, ‘we’re not like Muggles, all right? And there are lots of people who hate them or are afraid them.’

‘There’s a lot more of them than us,’ Harry interjected.

‘Yes. And some of those people don’t think a Muggleborn’s any different. There’ll be people who hate you too.’

‘But - but I didn’t do anything. I mean, I can’t help being magical, any more than Mum and Dad can help being Muggles! How can people hate me without even knowing what I’m like?’

‘That’s not all.’ They all turned to look at Susan, who gathered her nerve and went on, ‘See, basically you’ve got people who have got two parents from wizarding families - purebloods - or one from a Muggle family and one that’s wizarding - halfbloods - and then both from Muggle families - Muggleborns. My mum is a Muggle, Dad’s a wizard, so I’m a halfblood.’

‘And . . .’ She looked at the others.

‘Neville and I are both pureblood,’ Daphne said. ‘It’s not that simple, though. I mean, Harry’s a halfblood, but he’s also a Potter, and wizardborn. He could go around snubbing insignificant purebloods - but it would look really pretentious if he did it to people from good families, like me or Malfoy, or even Bulstrode.’

Hermione scowled. ‘But because I’m not from any wizarding family at all, I’m nobody? That’s so nasty! And bigoted! It’s not fair, I’m just as good - ’

‘That’s the spirit,’ said Harry. ‘Really, it’s all about magic - because it’s passed down from parents to their kids, see? Nobody knows quite how Muggleborns happen, any more than Sq - nonmagical people with magical parents.’ Daphne shot him a quizzical look. ‘If you end up being magically talented, it won’t matter so much that you’re Muggleborn. To some people, it won’t matter at all. That’s how it was with my mother - she was really popular, apparently.’

‘Oh.’ She looked relieved. ‘That’s all right then. I mean, it doesn’t seem very hard, does it? Magic, that is. And I hear the library is simply enormous. Think of all the information there is in there! I could learn so many spells and - ’

‘Well, a lot of the books are Restricted,’ said Neville. ‘You have to get a pass from a teacher to look at them.’

‘Oh, that won’t be a problem,’ Hermione said airily. ‘Teachers always like me. Not that I’d want to do anything Dark - ’

Harry and Neville grinned at each other, thinking of the Black library.

Hermione was still blathering on five minutes later, completely unaided by the other four. When she finally paused for breath, Susan leapt into the breach.

‘Harry, Neville, you never said what houses you wanted to be in?’

‘I . . . I’ll probably be a Hufflepuff,’ said Neville.

‘No, he won’t,’ Harry said. ‘Hufflepuff is about hard work and getting along with other people. You like being by yourself too much.’ He smiled at Susan. ‘Honestly, I think I could go anywhere - probably not Hufflepuff, though.’

‘No,’ said Susan, studying him, ‘you don’t really seem like it.’

‘That boy who helped us was a Hufflepuff,’ Neville said. ‘He was really nice.’

‘What boy?’ Hermione demanded. ‘Why did you need help?’

‘Our trunks - we didn’t think of the Levitation Charm. His name was Cedric.’

‘Diggory,’ Harry added.

Susan giggled. ‘Auntie says that Mr Diggory is always boasting about his son. Was Cedric a third year?’

‘Maybe,’ said Neville. ‘I thought he looked older, though. I wish I knew somebody here - older, I mean. Brothers or sisters. It’s just going to be me, and if I do end up in Hufflepuff . . . well, there’s no way you’ll be there, Harry . . . it’ll be just me and I won’t know anybody or anything!’

‘It’s not that special,’ said Daphne. ‘Mostly they just tease you, though mine did promise to hex anyone who bothered me.’

Neville gave a longing sigh.

‘Are they Hufflepuffs?’ Hermione asked. Daphne gave her an odd look.

‘No - Charon’s a Ravenclaw, and Andromache’s Slytherin.’

‘My uncle taught me some hexes,’ Harry said happily. ‘Just in case anybody’s, you know, presumptuous.’

Neville and Susan looked at each other, trying to keep their faces straight. For somebody so basically good natured, Harry took himself very seriously.

‘Which ones?’ Daphne asked.

‘The Leg-Locker Curse and the Full Body-Bind. He said they’d be useful for the rest of my life, not just first year stuff. I’m not very good at the Body-Bind yet, though.’

Neville frowned. ‘How do you know whether you’re good or not, Harry? He didn’t have you hex him, did he?’

‘No,’ Harry said casually, ‘he sent for Kreacher.’

‘Harry!’ He wouldn’t laugh. It was very wrong to hex a house-elf . . . at least, one’s own house-elf . . . but Kreacher was just awful.

‘What sort of creature?’ Hermione asked interestedly.

Everyone looked at one another.

‘His name is Kreacher - K-R-E-A-C-H-E-R - and he’s a house-elf,’ said Harry finally. ‘He works for my godfather’s family and he’s completely insane.’

Her brows furrowed. ‘You pay him, though?’

‘House-elves don’t have much use for money,’ Neville said. ‘We give them what they’ll accept. But you can’t think they’re human, because they’re not, and they don’t want the things we do.’

‘They’re people, aren’t they?’ she demanded.

‘Yes,’ said Harry. ‘And this is the wizarding world, Hermione. There are a lot of people - beings, I mean - out there who aren’t human.’