Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Neville Longbottom and the DA Revival
Neville Longbottom lay awake in his bed. The August morning sun was beaming rays of light across his face. He looked tired, but determined.
There were footsteps outside his door. Three knocks rang throughout his room.
"What now, Gran?" he asked, rolling his eyes as he knew what she was going to say.
"How many times have I told you to come down and have some breakfast?" she asked.
"How many times have I said no?" Neville chided.
"Don't talk to me in that tone, young man. I didn't take it from your father and I'm not going to take it from you. Now get your butt down to breakfast or else I'll get you down there myself." She turned on her heel and marched downstairs.
Neville sighed and pushed himself up. He didn't want to go down to breakfast because he knew his grandma would just try to persuade him to go to school tomorrow.
Getting to his feet, Neville made his way across the room and pulled on a shirt. Trevor, his toad, croaked as Neville made his way by.
"I'll feed you in a bit," he muttered. He swung open his bedroom door and made his way downstairs and to the kitchen.
It was a spacious room, many gleaming pots and pans littered the counter space. The table was set and a basket of steaming biscuits lay at its center. Neville felt his stomach growl and he instantly became enthusiastic about eating.
"Thanks, Gran," he said through a large mouthful of biscuit.
She glanced over at him from her frying pan in which bacon was being cooked. She grabbed the pan of eggs that sat on the counter next to her and placed them on the table. Neville helped himself to an immense load. She sniggered.
"What?" he asked as egg dribbled from his mouth.
"I knew you'd be hungry. Big day tomorrow. Are you ready?"
"No," Neville said truthfully.
"Well, you have to go," Gran said sternly, placing the cooked bacon on the table and helping herself to breakfast.
"I don't want to. It's horrible," Neville said as he placed a large portion of bacon on his plate.
"It is horrible, but what else can we do? If you don't go, they'll think we have something to hide."
Neville sighed. He had been through this conversation with her countless times over the summer. It had taken all of the might she could summon to keep Neville from disappearing on his seventeenth birthday.
"I just can't imagine going back this way. It's not Hogwarts. Not anymore," he said.
He excused himself from the table and returned to his bedroom. He sat at his desk, which was littered with notices from the Ministry informing him of the dates of his blood-status trials in order to return to school, of Daily Prophets- most of which seemed to be crunched up as though from anger, and of letters from someone with very neat handwriting. Neville reached for the closest of the letters. It was signed by Ginny Weasley. He had been corresponding with her all summer; she was also being forced back to school.
A page from the Daily Prophet was the only one not messed up from being crunched. It was taped to the edge of his desk and the headline "Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts". A sticky note was attached to it, sprawled out with Neville's handwriting. It read, "Undesirable No. 1". He was infuriated to know that the former headmaster's murderer was now running the school. He vowed from that day forward to put away his fear of Snape and to give him hell.
Neville pulled out a small container full of dead flies to feed Trevor. As he put it back, he glimpsed the Snape paper and a new bout of rage filled him.
"I have to go," he told himself. "Hogwarts needs me."