Neville Longbottom and the Chamber of Secrets

Chapter 1: Not How Things Seem

The parlor of the Longbottom home looked like a collector's dream. There were glass display cabinets on virtually every wall which were filled with curios, collectibles and trinkets. Everything from porcelain figurines and snow globes to platters and strange items that had no obvious use.

One of the glass-fronted cupboards was open and the tiny house-elf, Roody, was tending to its contents. He was taking great care to dust his own collection of owl feathers. He had collected more than two dozen so far, and each had its own place behind a label identifying the type of owl and purpose for its visit.

Augusta "Gran" Longbottom was in her favorite position, sitting on her pillow-covered, wooden rocking chair and reading the latest edition of the 'Daily Prophet'. As they were not expecting visitors, her gray hair was in a loose braid over her shoulder and she still wore her old dressing gown. She looked very kindly, but those who knew her could see the stern expression hidden in her wrinkles.

Her grandson, Neville, was laying on the worn area rug and working on the Puzzle page of an independent paper called the 'Quibbler'. His round, innocent looking face was framed by prominent ears and dark hair on top. In the front his hair lay flat on his forehead from nervously pressing it to cover a lightning-shaped scar. In the back his hair was perpetually sticking up as a result of his favorite position - reclining on his bed or sofa while reading.

With every new issue of the 'Daily Prophet', Neville and Gran would spend the afternoon like this. Gran would comment about an article and, if Neville was interested, he would ask her questions about it. Otherwise he would keep working on his Puzzles or reading a book. Lately Neville had also been asking about the Quidditch Scores in the Sports section, something he only started doing this Summer.

Just then a Great-Horned Owl swooped into the room and perched on their hat rack next to Gran's wide-brim hat which was adorned with a hideous stuffed vulture. Neville jumped up to detach the letter from the bird's foot and gave it a treat from a bag that hung on one of the pegs. Roody closed his cabinet and waited beneath the owl to see if it would drop a feather for his collection.

The letter was from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and was an invitation to return for classes on September 1st. Neville skipped the supplies page and handed the letter over to Gran.

"Neville, dear, why don't you use the owl to send a letter to one of your friends? I'm sure they'd be tickled to hear from you."

Neville's mind was suddenly spinning through several thoughts. Last Christmas Break he told her about the other boys his age in Gryffindor House, and she thought they were all his best friends. She even thought he had a girlfriend simply because he mentioned talking with Hermione at the Library. At the time he didn't bother to correct her about the friends, she was already disappointed at his poor performance in some of his classes.

He did try to correct the misunderstandings at the start of the Summer, but she just thought he was being modest. After all, she had received a letter from Professor McGonagall, the Head of Gryffindor House and an old friend of hers, explaining how he had saved the life of another student. Neville wanted to believe it at first, but from his perspective he had done next to nothing.

"I don't have anyone to send a letter to," he said blandly.

"Oh, sure you do. What about that Potter boy that you saved?"

"Gran, I know you don't want to believe it, but I don't have any friends." He knew she wouldn't believe him, but he had to tell her anyway. "And I didn't save that other kid, the teachers did it all. I just happened to be there."

"Don't be silly, dear," Gran said dismissively, "I got that letter from Minerva and she told me all about it."

"She was just being nice." He was struggling to keep the panic out of his voice because he knew it made him sound snarky and rude. "And it's not just that I have no friends, there are other kids that tease me - they pick on me. There's even a teacher that's mean; he yells and makes threats."