Year One: Chapter One

Neville Longbottom took in a deep, satisfying breath and looked down at his feet. His new shoes broke up the yellow warning lines at the edge of the platform, but he didn't move back. The pristine brogues made the mottled, old paint on the ground look worse and Neville wondered if he had ever looked better than any place he was before, but he still didn't move. He couldn't.

Neville stared up at the gleaming red steam train - The Hogwarts Express, as his insides squirmed in an equal mix of barely restrained excitement and unparalleled fear.

It was happening. It was finally happening.

The train's conductor blew a whistle in the distance and Neville was broken from his near trance. He hurried to get moving before he was too late. He turned to say goodbye to his Grandmother, and although he was filled to bursting, Neville knew it was unlikely to be an emotional farewell.

Augusta Longbottom had been born a stern woman, and her life had seen her further hardened. Still, she was the only parent Neville had ever known, yet, like many of the children standing close to him in clustered family groups, he had mixed emotions about his primary caregiver.

Neville turned and presented himself in front of her, as he had become accustomed to doing, and his Grandmother ran a cursory eye over his appearance, no doubt ready to list faults as she found them. But when she opened her mouth to speak, she hesitated, and it was so out of character that Neville immediately assumed she must have been unwell. After a couple of seconds, Augusta seemed to shake herself off before she stepped forward and placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

"You look so like your father," she said.

To someone else, he imagined the words might have sounded kind, maybe even fond, but to Neville, they were a reminder, and a warning all rolled into one. As his Grandmother instructed him often, he had a legacy to fulfil and a good name to uphold.

It was an almost unbearable weight for such a small, mild-mannered boy to carry.

Neville had looked in the mirror that very morning and compared himself to a picture he had found of his Dad, one where he was at about the same age. Any resemblance was lost on him, but as he had little more than surface-level information about either of his parents, it was hard to find likenesses. His Gran was reluctant to speak of her son, and Neville had learnt never to press her. Over the years, more distant family members had filled in some of the seemingly unending blanks but they all patched together to be little more than a bedtime story.

Distant, remote and unable to provide any real comfort.

Neville's parents had been childhood sweethearts, having fallen in love at school, and his Dad had proposed straight after graduation. They had then married and entered the Auror training programme together, Alice becoming pregnant soon after.

Neville heard the second warning whistle and his feet shifted with impatience. Augusta produced an overly adorned handkerchief from somewhere on her person and wiped Neville's face while chastising him on the importance of his appearance for first impressions.

"I never had to do this for your father. He was always excellently turned out. You will never get anywhere in life with a slovenly attitude."

"Yes, Gran."

After entering training together, Neville's parents had been attacked by a group of rogue Death Eaters close to the end of the wizarding war. Such a thing often happened in bedtime stories too, but in those tales good came back to conquer evil, and Neville supposed it had in this case. He-who-must-not-be-named was gone after all. But, closer to home, all of the evil spells, that are supposed to go away when the light returned, they lingered. His parent's had been at St Mungo's ever since the attack, and from everything Neville knew, that was where they would remain.

Neville had been to see his parents the day before, his final visit before he would be able to return over the Christmas holidays. Alice and Frank Longbottom had lived in the same place since they were discovered following the attack, the Janus Thickey Ward. The ward housed residents whose minds had been permanently affected by spell damage and were no longer able to function in the wizarding world, or any world. His parents couldn't speak, at least not in complete sentences, and their comprehension was often limited. But Neville knew they recognised him when he visited. His Mum's eyes would flash as he walked in and she would pause in whatever she had been doing to come and sit next to him, letting him speak and tell her his news while she unwrapped boiled sweets and presented him with the wrappers.

Neville zoned out of listening to his Grandmother's instructions as a small family, a few feet away, caught his eye. The parents were both crouched down so they could be eye level with a small child that was standing in front of them. The mum was smiling as she stuffed more and more items into the child's rucksack, and the dad cuffed the young boy's cheek. Neville turned away when his throat began to itch.

Apart from his Grandmother, most people said he looked like his Mum, though Neville thought they were just being kind. His Mum was beautiful, and even after all that time lost in herself, he still thought so. She had an inner beauty that not even the forces of darkness had been able to take from her. In contrast, Neville believed he fell somewhat short.

He was chubby, most notably in his cheeks and his teeth seemed a little large for his head. His Uncle Algie often reassured him that Longbottom men were often a 'little heavy' when younger and as soon as he had a few growth spurts it would all even out. Neville would take one look at his Uncle's rather pronounced belly and nod along convincingly, despite not believing a single word.

When she had apparently finished, his Grandmother pulled him forward for a hug as terse and perfunctory as Neville had imagined it would be, before she ushered him up the metal steps.

As Neville stepped out of her shadow, he focused on the weight of his trunk. The huge oblong filled with all of his possessions felt like the only thing holding him on the ground. The further he moved away from his Gran's disapproving stare, the more he felt like he could breathe.

This was it!

The first time where he could be himself, not Frank's son that never quite measured up, not the kid with the tortured parents, simply him, Neville.

Somewhat predictably, his soring happiness over his newfound freedom faded quickly. He had been on the train for less than ten minutes when he realised that he had lost his beloved toad, Trevor.

Neville immediately fell to his knees, hoping to see his familiar pressed up against the side of the corridor. However, after long minutes of frantic searching, Neville still couldn't find him. The halls began to fill as the train started to chug, ready for its departure and reluctantly, Neville walked into the nearest available compartment and hoisted his trunk up into the racking, already looking forward to being able to complete such tasks with magic.

It was only when he turned around that he noticed a girl was sitting on the opposite bench. It was no wonder he hadn't seen her before she was so small. She had to be a first-year like him, and the realisation made him feel moderately at ease, not relaxed as such but not as anxious as he might have been. She had a copy of Hogwarts a History perched on her lap that dwarfed her further, and her hands were pressed on either side, holding it open.

Her hair was insane. It was the first thing he noticed about her appearance. Neville had never seen anything quite like it; it seemed to move independently around her head, reacting to the subtle movements of the train. It wavered and fizzed in the air like a warning.

He briefly wondered if it were a living organism that he hadn't heard about yet. Plants and the natural world were a particular area of interest for him, and he had made it his mission to read up on Herbology as much as possible before coming to Hogwarts, as he knew it was one of the core subjects.

Neville dropped his satchel onto the seat, and still, the girl did not look up. She had made no response to him entering the compartment and did not acknowledge him now despite him staring. Neville summed up all of his courage, reminding himself that no one knew each other yet, not really, and broke the silence.

"Um... excuse me… you... you haven't seen a toad have you?"

The tiny girl raised her head, and Neville's gaze was met by caramel brown eyes assessing him shrewdly. "No, I'm sorry I haven't, and you are?"

Neville was instantly taken aback by her crisp, direct tone. It seemed so at odds with her slightly wild appearance. "I'm Neville, Neville Longbottom," he replied courteously. His Gran would have had his hide if he behaved with anything less than the utmost civility.

"Pleasure to meet you, Neville. I'm Hermione Granger, would you like some help looking for him, or her?" she replied. Her voice grew less brittle, and she began to close her huge book ahead of his answer.

"Err," Neville faltered as he stood, "yes, please."

He followed her out into the corridor where he noticed that she, much like himself, had more than a little difficulty walking straight during the rough movements of the now speeding train. Hermione proceeded to knock on every single compartment and enquire about Trevor, never once seeming to falter in confidence, even when talking to much older students clearly not accustomed to being interrogated by such a tiny, determined girl. By the time they approached the last carriage, Neville was starting to feel a bit tearful and was even more grateful that Hermione had taken charge.

When the last carriage door opened, there were only two occupants, both boys in their first year, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Neville had heard from his Gran that Harry Potter would be attending Hogwarts that year, and it was clear from the boy's facial expression that he wanted to keep a low profile. He had heard of the Weasleys of course, being a pureblood part of his education as a child had been about the existing pureblood families followed by harsh directives from his Gran on which ones he was allowed to associate with. To some in pureblood circles, the Weasleys would be seen as blood traitors, the Longbottoms too for that matter. Still, his Gran had referred to them as a respectable family, though she had made a few comments about the number of children they had being unseemly... whatever that meant.

With nowhere else to search, Hermione sat down next to Ron Weasley, pressing him to continue the bit of magic he had looked to be attempting when they entered. Despite the lack of warmth in the welcome, Hermione looked set to stay until she glanced up and saw Neville's face. Then, before he knew what was happening, she scrambled to her feet, calling a goodbye over her shoulder as she and Neville headed back to their own compartment.

"I'm sure he will turn up, Neville," Hermione said reassuringly, and he slumped onto the bench seat opposite her.

"I hope so," he said softly and looked out of the window. He had been truly surprised when his Gran had let him get a familiar. His Uncle may have been persistent, but that hadn't stopped her before. He imagined most of the other children would have picked cats or owls, but as soon as he had seen Trevor floating in a tank, Neville knew he was for him.

Having Trevor with him had made him feel more confident that he could do this, the prospect of boarding school hadn't felt quite so overwhelming. Now he was gone.

"So," Hermione said, interrupting his thoughts with barely concealed eagerness. "Which house do you think you will be in?"

Neville fiddled with the edge of his jumper, Hermione was clearly searching for a topic to distract him. Unfortunately, this one did not provide much comfort.

"Both of my parents were in Gryffindor," he began not meeting her eyes, "but I think there's a good chance I won't be. Not sure where I will end up. I'm not brave like you need to be for Gryffindor and not smart like the Ravenclaws… maybe Hufflepuff?"

"I'm not sure where I would be," Hermione replied with a shrug. "My parents are Muggles, so no indication there. I don't know how smart I could be perceived as being as I've only known about magic for a few months. Everyone from the wizarding world must be so much further along than me."

Her modest smile waned a touch and Neville suddenly comprehended how scared Hermione must have been. He was frightened about the new experience, and he had known about magic his whole life. He felt the need to reassure her like she had tried to do for him with Trevor.

"My family thought I was going to be a squib for a while. I didn't show any signs of magic until quite late," Neville revealed and prayed she wouldn't laugh at him.

Her head tilted as she looked at him. "What's a squib?"

"Non-magical person born to magical parents. It all got cleared up when my Uncle Algie chucked me out of a window."

"He dropped you out of a window?!" Hermione's voice had become impossibly shrill, and her eyes were wide as saucers. Despite Neville's nerves and his worry for Trevor, he found he was laughing.

"It was an accident," he replied, trying to placate her. "He was reaching for a meringue, and I was sitting on the window ledge, and I got pushed out. Before I hit the ground, I stopped and hovered for a minute before landing gently."

A fit of giggles overcame Hermione, and he couldn't help joining her. After a few moments she straightened out wiping her eyes. "Oh, that's terrible. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't laugh; you could have died."

"It all worked out in the end. Uncle Algie brought me Trevor when I got my Hogwarts letter. I can't believe I've lost him already."

"It will be alright, Neville, he will turn up."

Hours later, Hermione was proved right, something that would repeat itself again and again in later years. After arriving at Hogsmeade Station, a giant man, who Harry Potter whispered was called Rubeus Hagrid, was clutching a toad and shouting for whoever had lost it to come forward.

"TREVOR!" Neville exclaimed as he jumped up and thanked Hagrid profusely before securing Trevor inside his robes. He hoped that he would at least manage to make it to the end of the day before losing him again.

The first years were directed to the shore of the Black Lake to cross over to Hogwarts Castle. Hagrid instructed that they should be four to a boat and himself and Hermione climbed in behind Harry and Ron. They may not have gone out of their way to be friendly early, but they were familiar, and for right now, that was all that mattered.

Neville listened to the excited chatter around him and allowed himself to exhale forcefully as he felt Trevor's squirming in his front pocket. With everything going on it took Neville a while to notice that Hermione had fallen completely silent, it was jarring after listening to her excited chatter all the way up to Scotland.

Their boat rocked in the water, and her hand jerked out from under her robes to grip the side of the small vessel, and her knuckles began turning white with the force of her hold. Her eyes were firmly closed, and her teeth were embedded in her bottom lip.

As the first part of the castle came into view, Ron leant forward which disturbed the boat again, and this time Hermione's other hand shot from under her robes to grab at Neville's fingers and he allowed the touch, mainly as he was too stunned to react.

He had only ever held hands with two people, and it had been a long time since his Gran had held his hand, though his Mum occasionally still reached for it on their visits.

Their boat turned, and they got their first glimpse of the whole castle, perched high up on the rocks it looked beautiful in the setting sun. Neville knew Hermione would appreciate the view, from the amount she had quoted from Hogwarts a History on the way down she must have read the book more than once, and this might be her only opportunity to see it from where they were.

As gently as he could, Neville squeezed her hand. "Hermione, open your eyes, you need to see this."

A moment later he noticed a minute movement as Hermione opened one eye, just a fraction, then gasped loudly and her eyes opened and went almost as full as when he had told her about the window incident.

As they pulled into the shore, Neville kept ahold of Hermione's hand to help her out of the boat, something that was ingrained in him from his 'pureblood training'. When she let go he had to stretch his fingers several times to get the blood to flow back to the tips, she had an unbelievably sure grip, though, he didn't really mind, he was still rather flattered she had reached for him in the first place.

Lining up for the sorting ceremony, Neville lost sight of any excitement he might have felt earlier that day. He had long been intimidated by the reputation of the different house for excellence, and his biggest fear was the sorting hat being placed on his head only for it to declare there was nowhere for him to go. He wondered if he would be given the option to try again or whether he would need to go home immediately.

Quicker than he would have liked, the students in front of him diminished and his name was called. Neville tentatively moved towards the stool, and Professor McGonagall placed the old hat on his head. His eyes fell on Hermione, already seated at the Gryffindor table, and watching with rapt attention. Neville had previously thought he would argue for Hufflepuff, there would be no false expectations there, but when he saw Hermione move to the edge of her seat, he was too distracted to make any arguments at all. So he was startled with the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville was so surprised, both by the volume of the hat's voice and its judgement, that he got halfway across the hall before he realised the hat was still on his head. He blushed fiercely and raced back to put it on the stool for the next student. As he moved towards the red and gold table, he smiled at the pats on the back, handshakes and residual cheering, Hermione made to shuffle over, and he nudged in next to her.

"We did it, Neville," she exclaimed happily. "They have a place for us, and it's Gryffindor, home of the brave."

"Home of the brave," he repeated, and for the first time, the words didn't fill him with dread.

A/N: January 2020: this story is being revamped. Nothing will change too much, but hopefully, it will be somewhat tighter than the original version. As mentioned in my original Author's Note, this story mostly follows canon events and is based on a 'what if?' In this instance, what if Hermione and Neville's friendship continued to develop after meeting on the Hogwarts Express.