Shifting Focus: A Neville Longbottom Love Story ..::1::..

Did you read the memo? (Sorry if I sound like a nagging grandma...)
Of course I did! (Me: Yay! Enthusiasm!!! ^_^)
Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. What's it matter? (Me: If it didn't matter, would I have said anything?!)
I hate you. (Me: YOU AGAIN?!)
Okay now. On with the story!!!
Yaaaaaaay! Story time!!! (Me: ^_^)
Are you stalling? (Me: Actually, no. I'm not. -sticks out tongue-)
I still hate you. (Me: The feeling's mutual, luv.)
The sound of my footsteps was muffled almost to silence by the soft carpet beneath my slippers as I paced. It was exactly 12:14 at night, or rather, in the morning, and I was nervous as anything.

September first, I thought anxiously, not ceasing my continuous trek about the foot of my bed. The day I'll be returning to Hogwarts for my sixth year... so why am I not happy?

Of course, I already knew the answer: because I'm a recluse. Ever since I first stepped foot on the cobbled stone paths of Hogwarts' ground, I was a nobody. It was what I was best at. If you keep your mouth shut and don't meet anybody's eye, then trouble won't come looking for you. Simple as that. Not to mention my innate talent for becoming "invisible." It's actually quite a dandy trick if you want to go unnoticed for almost six whole years of your life.

But not anymore, I thought to myself, determined.

You see, for all of my five years at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, just about nobody knows I exist. In first year, during the Sorting, no one cast me a passing glance when Professor McGonagall called my name -- ("Larson, Adreanna!")-- and the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!" There was no cheer of welcome-to-the-house for me. In second year, when the basilisk was loose in the school, nobody asked for my help on the matter. In third year, as we practiced against boggarts during Defense Against the Dark Arts, nobody noticed I'd not had a turn. Throughout the adventure-filled years, I was passed right on by, and I took no part in the action. I don't mind, though. I don't really blame anyone else but myself. It was my choice to hide from view, it was my choice to not speak up when I could've helped. It was my choice to shy away instead of standing tall. It was my choice. Over and over. It was mine. And at the end of every year I'd swear I would change myself and do better, and at the start of every term, I never did.

But this time, I will.

After last year, I have refused to stay hidden any longer. I mean, look at what had happened at the Ministry! I could have gone with them! I could have helped! I might've fought! But... I didn't. I stayed at school, even when Neville went without me.

Ah, yes. Neville.

Neville Longbottom and I have been best friends ever since our first ride on the Hogwarts Express. Such a funny day that had been...
Takin' a ride down memory lane! Yay!
The scenery outside the window flew past as the remarkable train sped onward to a land full of magic and mystery. Chin resting in the palm of my hand, elbow propped up on the sill, I just stared out into the distance wondering how odd it was that I was going to be a witch. The letter had been quite a shock, seeing how an OWL had flown in through my bedroom window as I had been practicing my sketching. I had decided not to tell Brayden, my elder brother whom I was living with, because I was sure he wouldn't take it well. Or nicely. Which might be the same thing.

A sigh had escaped my eleven-year-old lips as I boredly began trying to count how many trees passed by my window. In a compartment by yourself, there's not much else to do.

An old, old man in the very classical-looking wizard-like clothes had come a day after my letter had arrived to "take me to get supplies." He was a kind-looking man, and I would much rather spend some time with his half-moon spectacled self than my temperamental older brother. So I was "off to boarding school" as Brayden now thought, and honestly, didn't care. So anyway, the old man-- Dumbledore, he'd called himself-- took me to some weird place called "Diagon Alley." I had almost fainted when we arrived, because it was so... fantasy-like. There were cauldrons being sold, spellbooks being advertised, and young wizard boys gawking over a broomstick, for heaven's sake. It had all been way over my head until I had been introduced to a man named Ollivander. He kind of creeped me out, but when I had received my wand-- fourteen and a quarter inches long, with birch and a unicorn hair-- it finally hit me that magic was REAL, and I was a part of it now. And not only because of the miniature fireworks-like display that had erupted from the stick I was holding at the time.

... Okay, mostly because of that.

Stretching my legs out on the empty bench, I recalled in fast-forward how I had bought all of my schoolbooks and other supplies (it turned out my parents had quite the savings account), stayed with Dumbledore in some sort of inn-like thing, and how he had told me about my parents... and what had really happened to them.

I blinked back a tear as a nice, somewhat elderly lady peeked into my compartment and asked if I would like anything to eat. I was long since used to wizarding money-- I'd had plenty of time to practice and memorize-- so I smiled timidly and bought a handful of chocolate frogs. It unnerved me about how they moved, but heck; chocolate was chocolate. Chewing contentedly, I returned to my dazing-off.

This whole magic business was still quite a bit foreign to me, and I really wished for a friend. Sure, I had Dumbledore, but not only was he old, but he had told me he was HEADMASTER. How creepy was that?! I'd met the flippin' headmaster before school had even begun!

A sound that was a cross between a croak and a ribbit broke me out of my odd little memories and thoughts.

Well, that's strange, I thought, The chocolate can make froggish noises, too. But I wasn't too sure. The ones I'd eaten before hadn't so much as peeped.

I tore my eyes away from the window, glanced around my compartment, and quickly spotted a toad. Now, I was NOT one of those girls who screams at the sight of something slimy. An animal was an animal. So I stood up and walked over to it. The thing cribbited (croaked + ribbited = cribbited) again, and I picked it up. Heavens, the thing was ugly, but it was obviously SOMEONE'S. Random toads didn't just hop around trains and make their way into people's compartments.

Smiling to myself, I figured the poor thing must've gotten in while I was buying candy. Stroking it between its bulbous eyes, I returned to gazing out the window in bored, lonely silence. That is, until my compartment door was opened once more.

"Have you seen a- Trevor!!" the brown-haired boy standing in my doorway exclaimed. For just a moment I wondered for the boy's sanity and puzzled over why he'd called me 'Trevor.' But then I understood he was talking about the toad. I looked from the boy before me, to the toad in my hands, and back to the boy. He seemed rather delighted to have found 'Trevor,' whereas before he had seemed disheveled and frantic. It was rather obvious that he had most likely already looked in every compartment before mine, asking for his toad. His milk-chocolate colored eyes were alight and twinkling whilst his shaggy, darker-brown mop of hair testified that he'd been nervously running his fingers through it. he was only barely taller than me, it seemed, and under my scrutinizing gaze, I decided he appeared quite like an introvert. Just like me. Nodding slightly to myself, I held up the toad in both hands.

"This is yours?" I asked him kindly, and he nodded. I handed the toad to him, and decided not to ask why he had a toad when the list of pets only said "owl, cat, or rat." That was why I now had a sleeping owl named Alcyon in a cage on a shelf above my head. 'Alcyon' was the name of a Greek goddess of peace, and my new bird was the closest to peaceful you'd ever find.

"Th-thank you," the boy was saying, and I gave him a half smile, since he kept talking, "I've been looking for him everywhere." I nodded. My shy, reclusive side had taken over. I felt bad, though, that I had left the poor boy just standing in the doorway, feeling awkward, so I decided something drastic. (For me.)

"Do you... er, that is, do you have a compartment anywhere else? Um, because if you don't... you can, uh, sit here, if... er, if you want." I could have smacked myself. I couldn't even manage to ask a simple question smoothly-- even when no one else was looking! Luckily, the boy didn't make a snide remark or even look at me oddly; he just smiled in a shaky, grateful sort of way.

"I have my stuff in a, uh, another compartment," he said, and I started feeling foolish for offering, "but they're full in there and, I'd just... feel out of place over there. With so many people and all... So, do you mind if I go get my trunk then come back here?" he concluded, and I relaxed.

"Sure, no problem." I responded, thankful that I hadn't stuttered again. When the boy came back, we exchanged names and had a conversation until we arrived at the school. I came to know that Neville-- the boy-- was extremely shy, like me. After that, it seemed we had become instant friends.
Awwww... coolness!
THE REST IS IN THE RESULTS!!!!!!!! (Yes, I'm one of them... -sigh-) -------------> poke the button and click "go!"


I smiled at the memory, and ceased my pacing to sit on my bed. Neville was my very best friend, and had been throughout the years. Stifling a laugh, I remembered how toward the end of first year, I had gotten out of bed to snag a cup of water from the house-elves, and almost tripped over Neville's immobile and prostrate body. I had been the one to undo the spell, and had to then calm him down enough for him to tell me what happened. Ahhh... good times.

Neville was my confidante, and I was his. He was the only person who knew how I went so unnoticed at school, even though I was there and did learn; and I was the only on who knew how Neville really felt about his parents' horrible fate. We had a... a "connection," of sorts. My parents had died fighting the Death Eaters, his had been tortured to insanity. I had a wish to be noticed (that I never acted on), and so did he. It was kind of a "symbiotic relationship," I guess you could say. We understood each other.

Smiling gently to myself, I twisted around and crawled to the head of my bed and got in. Wasn't it strange how I simply wasn't nervous anymore? I found it almost humorous how just thinking about my best friend had been like my usual venting-of-frustration that we always did.

I snuggled myself deeper into my covers, and I felt my eyelids finally droop closed. My last thought was hoping that Neville didn't mind my change-of-plans.


Her "change of plans" is her decision to not keep being an introvert, remember? So yeah... Oh! I just thought this picture was so cute so I had to put it up!!! ^_______^ Three cheers for Neville! Hip, hip...!