Fic: Arrival (Neville Longbottom)
Title: Arrival
Character: Neville Longbottom
Rating: Any Age
Word Count: 1008
A/N: This fic contains spoilers for DH. Summary is under the cut.
Summary: Neville attends the opening feast on his first day back to Hogwarts and finds someone he didn't expect.
He shouldn't be here.
The carriage bumps along, seeming to move faster than it ever has in the years previously as the thestral pulls it up the hill, hurtling Neville towards a place that, for once, he doesn't want to go.
He came to this realization only this morning after the Hogwarts Express pulled away from King's Cross at eleven o'clock, and it became obvious that Harry, Hermione and Ron aren't returning to Hogwarts this year. He'd looked across the compartment at Luna and Ginny, neither of whom had seemed surprised. The impotence he feels at knowing his friends are out doing something, something important, and not being able to join them is stifling. Even if it frightens him unbelievably, he's always known the right thing to do, and this isn't it.
Yet here they all are, pretending everything is normal as the carriage comes to a bumpy stop in line behind the others. He feels restless and tense, and worried for his friends. His family.
Students are passing around a copy of the Prophet, and the entrance hall is abuzz with chatter to which Neville pays no attention, the same sort of chatter that he heard dimly from outside their compartment on the train. He doesn't much care about gossip when he's busy noticing the absences of other students who haven't returned this year, the ones who were born to Muggles and deemed unworthy to study magic. He frowns when he glances at Seamus. Maybe he's only seeing things, but his friend seems just a bit lost without Dean at his side.
Nothing can be the same as it was. He shouldn't be here -- but he wasn't given a choice, not this year.
The Great Hall is less crowded than it's ever been, even when the first years file in behind Professor McGonagall in varying states of dampness. He watches his Head of House move along the front table and take her seat amongst the others, and it's only then that he glances up and notices the new faces. Defense against the Dark Arts, he assumes, and another spot -- didn't the Muggle Studies professor resign over the summer?
Probably not, he thinks, heart pounding.
Ginny's eyes widen as she looks down the row of teachers, and he knows she's thinking along the same lines. It isn't until she draws in a quick breath and nearly leaps up out of her chair that he gazes back toward the table to see the newest arrival.
And it's worse, he realizes when he sees Snape take his place in Dumbledore's chair. So much worse than he thought.
Professor -- no, Headmaster -- Snape surveys his students coldly, the glint in his coal-black eyes decidedly different than Dumbledore's had been, and Neville can't stop his hand shaking so he grips the beveled edge of the heavy wooden table. In that moment he wants to be as far away as possible.
What is he doing here? It's all Neville can think. Merlin, what is he doing here?
It must be what the students have been talking about all day. It's big news when the leadership of Hogwarts changes hands, after all, and this is bigger than any of them thought. He should have expected this, or at least something like this, but instead he feels paralyzed with shock. Snape says nothing for now, only lets McGonagall get on with the Sorting, but Neville can't pay attention to that. Neither can the rest of the students, he notices. There's a low din of murmured conversation that's silenced with a sharp glance from their new Headmaster.
He glances at Ginny; she looks back at him, her expression mutinous, and he wishes he could feel anything other than ice-cold fear. It's frustrating, feeling so scared all the time.
Across the Hall at the Ravenclaw table, Luna is staring at the bewitched ceiling with mild interest. Her wide grey eyes drop to meet his briefly, and he feels a bit bolstered even as he marvels at how calm she can be in the most dire of situations. Meanwhile, his fingers are making sweaty imprints on the edge of the table.
The first years have all been sorted now. The last one trips over his shoelace as he makes his way over; he's been sorted into Gryffindor, and Neville thinks back to his own first walk to this table. He can't remember ever being quite that small. He budges up as the boy -- Terrance Ward, McGonagall had called him -- takes a seat next to him.
There's a loud scrape of wood against stone that draws everyone's attention to the Professors' table again. Snape gets to his feet, looking like some sinister bird of prey; he's about to give a speech. He feels Snape's eyes rake over him and sets his jaw to tamp down the urge to recoil; he knows this isn't the time for that. When he feels a tug on his sleeve, he glances down.
"Who is that?" Terrance asks in an awed whisper, gazing at Snape. "He looks scary."
Nevile doesn't speak for a bit. He looks down at the table and loosens his vise grip, then uses the sleeve of his robes to wipe the sweaty fingerprints away.
"There's no need to fear him," he says once he's reasonably sure that he can believe it himself. "Don't be afraid."
The food appears on the table, and it isn't until that moment that he thinks about the younger students, about his friends who are stuck here with him, and realizes there is something he can do here.
It isn't easy, but he lifts his head. As the new Headmaster begins his speech, Neville looks him straight in the eye.
Character: Neville Longbottom
Rating: Any Age
Word Count: 1008
A/N: This fic contains spoilers for DH. Summary is under the cut.
Summary: Neville attends the opening feast on his first day back to Hogwarts and finds someone he didn't expect.
He shouldn't be here.
The carriage bumps along, seeming to move faster than it ever has in the years previously as the thestral pulls it up the hill, hurtling Neville towards a place that, for once, he doesn't want to go.
He came to this realization only this morning after the Hogwarts Express pulled away from King's Cross at eleven o'clock, and it became obvious that Harry, Hermione and Ron aren't returning to Hogwarts this year. He'd looked across the compartment at Luna and Ginny, neither of whom had seemed surprised. The impotence he feels at knowing his friends are out doing something, something important, and not being able to join them is stifling. Even if it frightens him unbelievably, he's always known the right thing to do, and this isn't it.
Yet here they all are, pretending everything is normal as the carriage comes to a bumpy stop in line behind the others. He feels restless and tense, and worried for his friends. His family.
Students are passing around a copy of the Prophet, and the entrance hall is abuzz with chatter to which Neville pays no attention, the same sort of chatter that he heard dimly from outside their compartment on the train. He doesn't much care about gossip when he's busy noticing the absences of other students who haven't returned this year, the ones who were born to Muggles and deemed unworthy to study magic. He frowns when he glances at Seamus. Maybe he's only seeing things, but his friend seems just a bit lost without Dean at his side.
Nothing can be the same as it was. He shouldn't be here -- but he wasn't given a choice, not this year.
The Great Hall is less crowded than it's ever been, even when the first years file in behind Professor McGonagall in varying states of dampness. He watches his Head of House move along the front table and take her seat amongst the others, and it's only then that he glances up and notices the new faces. Defense against the Dark Arts, he assumes, and another spot -- didn't the Muggle Studies professor resign over the summer?
Probably not, he thinks, heart pounding.
Ginny's eyes widen as she looks down the row of teachers, and he knows she's thinking along the same lines. It isn't until she draws in a quick breath and nearly leaps up out of her chair that he gazes back toward the table to see the newest arrival.
And it's worse, he realizes when he sees Snape take his place in Dumbledore's chair. So much worse than he thought.
Professor -- no, Headmaster -- Snape surveys his students coldly, the glint in his coal-black eyes decidedly different than Dumbledore's had been, and Neville can't stop his hand shaking so he grips the beveled edge of the heavy wooden table. In that moment he wants to be as far away as possible.
What is he doing here? It's all Neville can think. Merlin, what is he doing here?
It must be what the students have been talking about all day. It's big news when the leadership of Hogwarts changes hands, after all, and this is bigger than any of them thought. He should have expected this, or at least something like this, but instead he feels paralyzed with shock. Snape says nothing for now, only lets McGonagall get on with the Sorting, but Neville can't pay attention to that. Neither can the rest of the students, he notices. There's a low din of murmured conversation that's silenced with a sharp glance from their new Headmaster.
He glances at Ginny; she looks back at him, her expression mutinous, and he wishes he could feel anything other than ice-cold fear. It's frustrating, feeling so scared all the time.
Across the Hall at the Ravenclaw table, Luna is staring at the bewitched ceiling with mild interest. Her wide grey eyes drop to meet his briefly, and he feels a bit bolstered even as he marvels at how calm she can be in the most dire of situations. Meanwhile, his fingers are making sweaty imprints on the edge of the table.
The first years have all been sorted now. The last one trips over his shoelace as he makes his way over; he's been sorted into Gryffindor, and Neville thinks back to his own first walk to this table. He can't remember ever being quite that small. He budges up as the boy -- Terrance Ward, McGonagall had called him -- takes a seat next to him.
There's a loud scrape of wood against stone that draws everyone's attention to the Professors' table again. Snape gets to his feet, looking like some sinister bird of prey; he's about to give a speech. He feels Snape's eyes rake over him and sets his jaw to tamp down the urge to recoil; he knows this isn't the time for that. When he feels a tug on his sleeve, he glances down.
"Who is that?" Terrance asks in an awed whisper, gazing at Snape. "He looks scary."
Nevile doesn't speak for a bit. He looks down at the table and loosens his vise grip, then uses the sleeve of his robes to wipe the sweaty fingerprints away.
"There's no need to fear him," he says once he's reasonably sure that he can believe it himself. "Don't be afraid."
The food appears on the table, and it isn't until that moment that he thinks about the younger students, about his friends who are stuck here with him, and realizes there is something he can do here.
It isn't easy, but he lifts his head. As the new Headmaster begins his speech, Neville looks him straight in the eye.