The Three Brothers: The Cure

The Beginning of a Journey

1st September 1991

Neville Longbottom was irritated. The stupid toad his Great Uncle Algie had bought him had run away twice since they had arrived at Kings Cross Station. Holding Trevor tightly between his clasped hands, he walked towards the compartment in which he had placed his luggage earlier.

To be honest, he was not that fond of Trevor. Toads certainly weren't his thing, nor were they currently in fashion. Neville wasn't sure when they had been. Probably when Great Uncle Algie was at Hogwarts.

But on the platform, amongst the hundreds of students scrambling to get on the Hogwarts Express, there was a good chance of his new pet getting squished underneath someone's foot or an oversized trunk. God forbid if someone tried feeding Trevor to their owl. His pet might be a hassle, but it was his to take care of.

Now outside his compartment, he tightened the grip on the toad with his left hand while he jiggled the latch open with his right. He had barely taken a seat when the door slid open again.

A bronze skinned boy stood in the doorway, with a large black bag slung on one shoulder and a trunk at his feet. He was about the same height as Neville, if not slightly taller, and had long black hair framing his slightly chubby face.

"Hey mate, you mind?" the boy, nodding towards the empty seat in front of Neville. Growing up as he had with his Gran, Neville hadn't ever heard anyone talk so casually. He realised that the boy was still waiting for a reply.

"Um, yes. Come in."

The boy gave him a small grin and turned to pull on his trunk. Neville watched with fascination as he managed to balance the black bag on one shoulder while hoisting the trunk up on the rack. The boy rested the tall bag beside him, which Neville now noticed was of a peculiar shape; it was narrow at the top, and slowly widened as it went down, before bloating up into an oblong frame.

Following the manners drilled into him by his grandmother, he decided to introduce himself to this newcomer.

"Neville Longbottom," he said offering his right hand. The reply was not one he expected.

"Your frog, mate."

It took a moment for Neville to register that he was referring to Trevor, who had jumped out at the first opportunity and was now making his escape.

"Oh no, Trevor." Neville bent down and scooped the errant amphibian. Looking back at the boy, he clarified. "It's a toad, actually. My Great Uncle Algie gave it to me," he explained sheepishly.

"I think it wants some humidity," the boy said, his brows furrowed. As if struck by something obvious, he turned towards the large bag and fished a weird looking bottle from it. Unscrewing the cap, he poured some water on the floor of the compartment just underneath the window.

"Here, try this. I think Trevor might like it."

Giving a small shrug, Neville let his toad down in the small puddle and was surprised that his normally hyperactive pet didn't jump out.

"Oh yeah," said the boy, sweeping his hair back with one hand. "I'm Mark. Mark Smith." He offered his hand to Neville and shook it with a firm grip. Neville made a mental note to shake hands that firmly from now on.

"Are you from a wizarding family?" asked Mark.

"Yes. I'm a pureblood. What about you?"

"I'm a first-generation wizard."

Neville was about to tell him that the commonly used term was muggle-born when he stopped himself. Obviously, Mark must be knowing that. If he did not use it, instead opting for a rarely found archaic term, then it had to be by choice. It as wiser to stay silent. Fortunately, Mark asked the next question.