“I can’t bloody believe,” Augusta clucked, as she made her way with Neville through King’s Cross Station, “that they have the school train way out in the middle of where all the bloody Muggles are! It completely defies all logic.”

Neville said nothing, morosely pushing the baggage trolley with his trunk on it. The initial excitement over getting his wand had long since faded, although he still would feel just the slightest bit happier when he held it with his fingers and reminded himself that it was his wand. His, and his alone.

It didn’t override the fact that he was heading to school for real,s this time, however. Hence, his face was black.

“I do have to give them credit,” Augusta continued, “for putting the platform somewhat in the back. Don’t want to attract attention from those folk, after all.”

“Sure, Gran,” Neville said, maneuvering the trolley down towards the further platforms. The looming signs of Platforms 9 and 10 appeared, and Augusta stopped Neville before the wall.

“Go on, just walk into it all easy-like,” she told him. “Don’t want to attract any attention. I’ll come in right after you.”

“Yes, Gran,” Neville said, and after looking left and right to make sure he was being inconspicuous enough for his grandmother’s liking, began to walk towards the wall.

Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters unfolded itself to him, with the Hogwarts Express, gleaming in scarlet, immediately as he came in.

He didn’t have much time to enjoy the splendor, however, as his grandmother appeared behind him right afterward, squeezing his shoulder. “Let’s get you on the train, Neville,” she said.

“Right, Gran,” he said softly. Augusta gave him a stern glance, and maneuvered him out of the way. Neville gave a quiet, secret little groan. He was going to get a Talking-To.

“Neville Longbottom, I shall have none of this moping about,” she said, once she felt they were secluded enough. “It’s your first day of school, and you should be excited.”

“I know, Gran,” he said softly. “I’m just… nervous.”

“I know full well that you’re nervous, Neville,” she clucked. “Everyone’s got a few butterflies in their stomach on their first day. I remember your father was a nervous wreck on his first day.” Neville’s expression didn’t lighten. “Neville!” she snapped, and he looked up at her. “I told you, no moping about!”

“Gran, I don’t want to go to school,” he said. “I told you before.” He had told her at least ten times in the past week.

“None of this!” Augusta said, looking borderline furious. Neville winced. “Neville Franklin Longbottom, you are going to attend Hogwarts if it’s the last thing I do. I do not want to have this talk with you again!” She stood, glaring at him for a very long-seeming moment. “Please, Neville do it… for your parents.” Her face went from angry, to very sad. “They’d be so proud of you, Neville, coming so far.”

Neville said nothing. Would his parents really be proud of him? He was going to be awful at magic, he just knew it. But would they have been okay with that?

“Neville, dry your eyes!” Augusta said, snapping, but her voice cracked a little. “We have to get on the train.”

“Yes, Gran,” Neville said. He wiped the tears that had uncontrollably fallen out of his eyes off with his sleeve.

“Send me a letter using one of the school owls as soon as you get there, now,” she said, leading him towards the engine and boxcars. “I’ll want to make sure they’re treating you well.”

“Yes, Gran,” Neville said again. “Can I get on the train now?”

“Of course you can,” Augusta said primly, and gave him a dry peck on the forehead. It left a rather faded mauve lip-print there. “Be careful out there. And stay away from questionable boys.”

“Yes, Gran,” Neville said, and dragging his trunk along behind him, boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Almost immediately, he was set with the challenge of finding a seat.

Would it look weird to sit alone? Or should he try to find someone he knew? Well, Draco was the only boy he really knew, that was going to the school, and he had a feeling that his grandmother thought him “questionable.” And it would be absolutely awkward having to sit with a complete stranger, especially someone that would ask about his scar. Neville didn't like talking much about his scar.

“Hey! Neville! Neville, over here! You hear me, Neville?”

Draco's voice came floating from a small compartment further up, and it wasn't long before the narrow-faced boy appeared, grinning. “Oy! Good to see you, you wanna sit with me?”

Well, what his grandmother didn't know wouldn't hurt her, Neville reasoned, and said, “Sure. Thanks, Draco. It's nice to see you again.”

“No problem! Glad I could find you! I have some friends of mine I want you to meet,” Draco said, leaning out of the compartment. “Uh, you need help with that trunk of yours?”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Neville, as Draco took one end and helped drag it into the compartment, stowing it beneath the seat.

“You can sit with me,” Draco said, an eager enthusiasm in his voice that Neville had only heard in small amounts during their previous encounter. “Do you... want the window?”

He looked like he was trying really hard to be nice, so Neville said that he would, and took his seat. “You're sitting next to me, by the way,” Draco repeated, and ushered with his hand towards two boys across from them, with faces that looked like they were made sculpted out of hardened dough. “This is Crabbe, and that's Goyle, by the way. This is Neville Lon-”

“We know who he is, Malfoy,” the one called Goyle said. “You wouldn't shut up about it on the platform!”

Draco turned a very pale shade of pink, and glanced at Neville to see if he was getting uncomfortable. Neville was just the slightest bit embarrassed, but didn't show it. Draco continued. “Yeah? Well, this is the real thing! What do you think, Crabbe?”

“It's all right,” the other boy said. He looked just the slightest bit thinner than Goyle, but it wasn't that much of a difference.

“Crabbe, and Goyle?” Neville said, looking at each of them in turn. “Are those your surnames?”

“Yeah?” Goyle said.

Of course they were their surnames. They were also the surnames of notorious Death Eaters. “What's your given name?” Neville said. “I remember those better.”

“Gregory,” said Goyle. “And this lump here is Vincent.”

“Hey,” Crabbe, now Vincent, said, as Goyle nudged him slightly.

“Vincent and Gregory. Okay, I can remember that,” Neville said, and smiled slightly.

“Did the rest of your holidays go well, Neville?” Draco asked, slapping his hands on his knees and smiling.

“They were all right, I guess,” Neville replied. “I didn't do much.”

“Really? Mum took me to the Russian Circus when they came by,” Draco replied. “The had Bear Animagi, it was really quite something. I've seen better, though.”

“I've never been to the circus,” Neville said thoughtfully.

“Circuses are dumb,” Gregory added. “You just can't beat Quidditch. That's the best.”

“Yeah! Quidditch beats out the circus, any time,” Draco agreed. “What do you think, Neville?”

Neville shrugged. “My gran doesn't let me play,” he said.

“Your gran?” said Gregory. “Sounds like a fussy old cow to me.”

Neville frowned at Gregory, who, for a brief moment, grimaced. Draco nervously waved his hands at Neville, as if that would placate him. “Well, there are flying lessons at the school, I think!” he said. “You ever flown?”

“No,” Neville said, losing the glare, but still giving Gregory a rather cross look. “I don't think I'll be very good at it, anyways. I'm right clumsy.”

“It's okay, I don't much like flying either,” Vincent said, causing Gregory to nudge him again, rather strongly. “Ow!”

“Pansy,” Gregory said. “I hope I make beater this year.”

“You can't get on the team in your first year...” Vincent noted, rubbing his bumped arm.

“Stupid rule!” Draco said, pouting. “I bet I could beat out whatever stupid git they have as Seeker, now.” And that was all that was said for a good long while.

The train began to move, and Neville shrunk against the window, thankful he wasn't sitting on the side of the train that his grandmother was standing at. He didn't want to risk getting a Howler or something, just because he sat with Draco. He and Vincent and Gregory didn't get up to wave at their parents, either, so they just sat in silence as students said goodbye to their parents through the windows.

“So,” Gregory said after a long while, “do you remember what You-Know-Who looked like, at all?”

“Goyle, are you stupid or something?” Malfoy snapped, before Neville could say anything. “You were only a baby, weren't you?” he asked.

“I don't rightly remember much from that time,” Neville said, his voice soft. Well, they could be asking worse questions, he figured.

“Really? What, you don't remember, like... the curse or anything?” Gregory continued. “Cos my older brother hexed me when I was, like, three, and I remember that really well.”

Neville gave him a darkly confused look. “No, not really,” he replied. Though, he did suppose that sometimes he dreamed about that night—screams, and green flashes that would cause him to wake up in bed, fitfully turning about.

“That's weird,” Gregory decided, and looked out the window himself.

“You miss your folks lots, Neville?” Vincent asked unexpectedly.

Neville shrugged. “I guess I do, though I don't really remember them,” he said. “I wish I did.”

“I guess you're lucky, then,” said Vincent. “You-Know-Who took away my parents too, and I really miss them.”

Neville nearly gasped. “Y'mean he killed them?” he asked.

“No,” Gregory said, nudging Vincent strongly again. “It means they got locked up in Azkaban like my dad and Malfoy's! All 'cos of him, 'swhat Crabbe thinks.” He nudged Vincent again. “You need to stop being a pansy.”

“I am not a pansy,” Vincent replied, frowning, holding his arm once more. “I am not.”

“I hate my dad,” Gregory continued, looking almost thoughtfully out the window again, with an expression of brutish intellect (if such a thing existed). “He was stupid enough to get caught.”

Neville gulped, but it was Draco's response that made him feel a little better. “That's because your dad's an absolute idiot,” he said dryly.

“Is not!” Gregory said, and he and Draco glared at each other for a bit, before forgetting the matter entirely. It was the kind of relationship Neville guessed would exist between brothers, always fighting and disagreeing, but sticking together anyways. It was how he was with his grandmother, in a way.

“Do you have a pet, Neville?” Vincent asked, and Neville nodded. “Oh, what kind?” Neville smiled just a little. He had a feeling he'd like Vincent a bit.

“You want to see him?” Neville said, and Vincent nodded. Draco craned his neck in interest as Neville reached down to get his trunk, and in it, the glass cage that Trevor was kept in.

Mortifyingly, Trevor was nowhere to be found. Neville couldn't have been more scared.

“Oh no!!” he cried.

“What's the matter?” said Draco. “Did you lose something?”

“I lost Trevor!” said Neville. “Did you see him?”

“See what?” said Gregory, finally becoming interested as Neville nervously rooted through his trunk for any sign of the toad.

“See Trevor!” Neville replied, frantically. “Have you seen him?”

“What's Trevor?” said Draco.

“My toad!” Neville said urgently.

Gregory began to laugh, and even Draco submitted to a burst of chuckles.

“You? Have a toad?” he said, and began laughing. “Oh, tell me you're joking! You're joking, right?”

Neville glared at him again. “I am not!”

“Why don't you want an owl?” Draco asked. “Owls are so much better.”

“Trevor was a present,” Neville said glumly, closing the trunk. “And we can only bring one, right?”

“Yeah, but,” Gregory said, between laughs, “seriously! A toad!”

Vincent stayed silent, though he looked just the slightly bit regretful. Neville wished that he would just stand up and help him look for Trevor, but nothing of the sort happened.

Neville stood. “Where are you going?” Draco said.

“I'm going to go find Trevor,” Neville said, resolutely, and stomped out of the compartment. He left his trunk behind him.

-///-

A good half hour of searching, as well as a good hour of avoiding questions from curious bystanders, and still no Trevor. Neville was practically heartbroken—what if something had happened to him? Had he been eaten by somebody else's cat, or owl? Or was he cowering, scared, beneath a seat?

He leaned against the compartment bathroom door, and sighed. What was he going to do? It didn't help that Gregory and Draco were laughing at him, while Vincent just... had sat there. Was he better off without his toad, considering them?

No! Trevor was too precious! He was a present from Uncle Algie! Neville had to find him. But nothing was happening.

The door to the bathroom opened, and a girl that gave him the distinct impression of a rather fussy squirrel exited. She glanced at Neville as she left, and then gave him a grand double-take on her way down the hall, eventually coming back to him.

“Excuse me, are you... Neville Longbottom?” she asked.

“Yes,” Neville said, tiredly, “I am.”

“Well! This is... I read all about you in A History of Magic! Of course, you weren't mentioned for very much, I mean, the book only goes up until the late 80's...” Her eyes wandered to the floor as she spoke, faster and faster, before she unexpectedly offered him her hand. “My name's Hermione Granger, by the way. It's really so very great to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Hermione,” Neville said, loosely shaking her hand, before putting both hands in his pockets.

“Gosh, aren't you just so excited about school?” Hermione twittered. “I know I am. My parents are Muggles, you see, so I don't know much of anything! It's a whole new experience!”

“Really?” Neville said, his voice barely showing a hint of interest.

“Yes!” Hermione replied. “Do you know which house you'll be sorted in? I'm going to guess I'm in Ravenclaw, of course, but Gryffindor might be nice too... Oh, whatever is the matter?” She finally seemed to notice, through her talking, that Neville was wearing a very dour face.

“I lost my toad,” he replied.

“You did? Oh, how awful!” said Hermione. “Do you want me to help you find it?”

Neville's face broke into a tired smile. “Oh, would you? Thanks,” he said. “I've been looking all over the train, and not finding anything...”

“Well, I'd guess that there's about another hour left to go,” Hermione said. “I went up to talk to the conductor, you see, and that's what he said. So I think we'll have enough time to look some more.”

“Thanks,” said Neville, smiling wider. “I was looking mostly towards that side of the train,” He pointed to the front, “so we could look near the back, maybe?”

“Sure, that sounds good,” said Hermione, and opened the sliding door to the next car. “Oh, this is so exciting, Neville! You... don't mind if I call you Neville, do I?”

“No,” Neville said, with a bit of a laugh, “I don't, really.”

With the addition of Hermione, however, the search was no more fruitful, but it went a bit faster. She went to each compartment and asked if a toad had been seen, allowing Neville to stand inconspicuously in the aisle and not be bothered by questions of his scar and You-Know-Who, and other things he wasn't in the mood to discuss.

There had been a bit of trouble when the woman pushing the snack trolley came by, but they managed to get past and learn that she had not seen a toad, but had a whole lot of Chocolate Frogs. Neville bought one—he was feeling rather hungry, after all, and idly looked at the card while Hermione inquired within another compartment.

Bridget of Ireland, huh? The woman dressed in a rather simple nun's habit smiled back at him, a flickering candle in her hands. He didn't have her yet. He did enjoy (somewhat) collecting Chocolate Frog cards. His grandmother never did let him buy that many sweets, however. So, his collection wasn't all that impressive. But, he knew he had an Agrippa, though, and that accounted for something.

“Have any of you seen a toad?” Hermione asked the inhabitants of this newest compartment. “My friend's lost his.”

“Haven't seen a toad anywhere around here,” a boy's voice said from within. “Whose toad?”

“That's none of your business,” Hermione said primly. “Have you seen a toad or not?”

“I told you, we haven't seen a toad,” another voice, still a boy's, said. “Who owns a toad anymore, anyways?”

“Obviously, my friend,” Hermione said, somewhat ruffled. Neville could practically see her bushy hair bristling with annoyance—most people (mainly the older students) were rather helpful and polite in saying they had not seen a toad.

“Who's your friend?” the first voice said.

“That is none of your business!” Hermione said, and very nearly closed the compartment door, when Neville stepped forward to take a look inside.

Two boys sat within; one with black hair and glasses, and bottle-green eyes; the other had hair the color of a carrot, and freckles dotting his face like a ripe banana. The carrot-haired boy gasped almost immediately.

“Y-y-y-y-you're Neville Longbottom!” he stammered. “It's your toad?!”

“Yes, it's my toad,” Neville said, just the slightest note of defensiveness in his voice, although it was mostly exasperation. “Neither of you have seen it?”

“No! No, we haven't seen it,” the carrot-haired boy replied nervously. He seemed to be more excited than Hermione, on their initial meeting. “Oh! Do you need help in finding it?”

“I'm already helping him!” Hermione snapped back. “We don't need any help from you. Neville, shall we leave?”

He was about to nod, and follow Hermione to the next compartment, when the bespectacled boy said, “Hold on a tic. I think that my parents know you.”

Neville tilted his head confusedly, looking at the boy. He didn't seem to recognize him. “I don't know you...” he said.

“Well, of course! My parents knew your parents,” the boy said. “I'm Harry Potter, my parents are Aurors! And your parents were named... Alice and Frank, right?”

Neville found himself smiling. “Yes, that's their names!” he said. “How come I've never met you?”

“Must be because of your gran, or something,” Harry said. “My dad says she's too protective of you, or something. Is she really awful?”

“Well, I don't know..” said Neville, somewhat meekly. “I don't get out much.”

The carrot-haired boy's mouth was dangling wide open, and Harry noticed, laughing. “Ron, you keep your mouth open much longer and a fly's going to go in there,” he said.

“Your parents knew his?!” the boy, whose name was Ron, said incredulously. “That's so... cool! Hey, hey Neville? Can I ask you something?”

“Huh?” said Neville.

“Can I see your scar, real quick?” Ron said. Neville sighed. Well, it wasn't like he was asking questions about the curse and You-Know-Who, like Goyle was.

“Okay,” he said, and pushed up the hair on his bangs to show Ron the V-shaped scar. Ron's mouth dropped open once more, and Hermione sighed.

“Wicked...” he said.

“Oh, grow up, will you,” Hermione sighed.

“Hey, Neville, I've got a question too,” Harry said. “What're you doing, hanging out with squirrels? Fancy yourself Snow White, or something?”

Hermione's face turned bright red, and she kept her mouth tightly shut. Her front teeth were just the slightest bit large...

“Excuse me?” Neville said, letting his bangs fall. Harry and Ron began to laugh, while Hermione spoke, through gritted teeth.

“Neville, they obviously haven't seen your toad.”

“I still don't get why you have a toad!” Ron said.

“Yeah, why not an owl?” Harry added. “Aren't toads kind of stupid?”

Neville gave a bit of a hurt look. “No, they're not...” he said.

“Come on, Neville,” Hermione urged, tugging on his arm and sending him scooting to his left on one foot. “Your toad isn't here.”

“All right, then,” Neville said.

“Hey, Neville! I'll see you later!” Harry said, waving at them as Hermione dragged him away. All Neville could muster was a brief wave.

He heard Ron say, as they left the car, “Blimey, Harry, Neville Longbottom's at our school! Neville Longbottom! That's like having... having one of the Chudley Cannons as Head Boy!”

“Those idiots, honestly,” Hermione clucked, the door closing behind her. “I just know they're going to be getting into just heaps of trouble.”

“They seemed okay,” Neville said. Compared to Gregory, that is.

“You boys honestly have no sense of judgment,” said Hermione, and leaned into yet another compartment.