Good Grief~Neville Longbottom

Chapter One:

"Come on Celestia, you can't hide in KnockTurn alley forever! It's dangerous!" One of my best friends, Violet Quinn yelled to me as I trudged through Diagon Alley.
"Yes I can! I know how to defend myself, I've spent four years at that poxy school Hogwarts, I know how to use a charm!' I snapped turning around and stamping my foot.
"But... You-You could get killed!" She blurted. It was true. For the past four years I'd been skulking around London, hiding out in the Witch and Wizard hotspots in the hope I might just find my father.
"Vi, you know I can't leave until I find my Dad!" I cried, taking her shoulders in my hands. She moved away abruptly and sighed.
"He's not here!" She yelled.
"He was sighted here and in Hogwarts just last year. He can't've gone far!" I said, walking away and pulling my hat down onto my brown, ,midlength, curly bob hair cut. Since I had no money, I was forced to cut my hair myself. Violet ran up to me and grabbed my hand. I turned to her and watched tears spurt down her rosy red cheeks. A hand was going through her light blonde hair and I sighed to her.
"What am I going to do with you Violet?" I chuckled to myself, hugging her. She sniffed into my jacket and hugged my back tightly.

"Please. Come and stay with me until school starts again. My mum said you can." Violet was too nice for her own good. That niceness of hers was going to get her killed one day, and she knew it. She was your typical girly girl, preferring dresses over what I'd normally wear, jumpers and weird skirts to go with them. We completely contrasted and that's what made us so brilliant. She was the good girl, I was the weirdo, and Ginny...well, let's just say that Ginny was the brainy one out of us all. I loved having her as a friend, since I got to spend some time with the Weasleys at The Burrow, instead of living on the streets of London.
"You know I can't do it Vi. Your family hate me." I sighed. It was true though. The last time I visited Violet, I was told off for tracking mud into the house, not washing up my dinner plate AND for not making my bed. It seemed they had a personal vendetta for me. I'd grown up in a family where you had to make do with what you had, and if it wasn't enough, too bad for you. She had everything I wanted. A nice house, a nice family. My life consisted of running away from my uncle, a death eater, and trying to find my father. My house was a rubbish little flat, barely big enough for the three of us, bar the next three kids my whore of a mother decided to have. My father left when she first cheated on him. Everyday she would cry about it, but I had to remind her it was all her fault he'd left. Then she'd go back to the cigarettes that were slowly clogging up her lungs more and more everyday.

Then it happened. She collapsed at home, and I had no idea what to do. I scrambled up from the couch and grabbed the phone that sat in the counter in the kitchen. My fingers shook as I dialled 999, until I finally got onto an operator and told her everything. Aside from having to try and keep my Mum alive, I was forced to deal with my annoying younger siblings,(at the time aged 6, 3 and 10 months) while she was passed out on the floor. Harsh reality set in and I knew she was dying. I grabbed her hand and told her everything was okay, that an ambulance was on its way and she would be fine. But in my heart I knew that everything I said was a lie. My 6 year old brother Michael came out of his room and saw her laying there and burst into tears, which then caught Lola's attention. Since my baby sister wasn't even one yet, she cried all the time anyway. After about 2 minutes of listening to them sobbing I stood up and screamed for them to go to their room and stay in there until I told them to come out. Michael knew I only shouted when something was seriously up, so he led Lola back into their room silently. When the door shut, I realised that I was now alone. I. Ouldnt look after the kids myself, I was only 11 at the time. I started to let go of her hand when he squeezed it and coughed.
"F-Find your father. He can help us. Remember his name. Siri...Sir....Sss..."she whispered before falling out of reality again. I knew my father, but he left when I was 5. Everything except his last name had been erased.
"Who? Mum, who? Tell me! Tell me!" I cried, pounding her chest. The door suddenly banged open and the paramedics entered with a stretcher to take her away. I stood up and clasped her hand quickly.
"No! Don't go Mum! I need to know!" I shouted as they lifted her on and started to move her away. My grip on her hand loosened and then I had to let go. They wheeled her away. Kicking the door shut, I slid down it and started to sob uncontrollably. Just then, I felt something hit my head. I turned around and grabbed the envelope that came through the post box.

Celestia Nightingale-Black
Apartment 162B, Fuller Building
Room straight across then to the left.
The envelope read. I knew I shouldn't open it, but curiosity got the best of me and I tore through the wax seal on the back.
'Dear Miss Nightingale-Black.
You have been selected to study magic at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please catch the Hogwarts Express from platform 9 and 3/4 on September the first. We look forward to seeing you there.
Kindest Regards,
Albus Dumbledore.'

That's when I realised my incredibly difficult life just got even more difficult.