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He was in the garden pruning his Malus Domestica, the only tree his gran had been willing to purchase when he had dared to ask for an Abyssinian Shrivelfig. Most people just called it an apple tree, but thinking of it with its proper name gave Neville the illusion it was some kind of exotic, magical plant, the kind Great-uncle Algie always told him about after his trips around the world.
Neville was carefully trimming a low branch when a eagle owl glided towards him, dropped a letter upon his head and flew away.
The missive slid to the ground, and Neville stared at it with a hammering heart. Even from standing, he could read his name written in emerald green ink.
He kneeled on the fresh earth and let the trimmers fall with a clang, grabbing the letter with trembling hands without even pulling off his protective gloves.
His eyes wandered again over his name to make sure it was really addressed to him. Blood pulsed in his ears while he hesitantly turned the thick, yellowish envelope over, and seeing the Hogwarts symbol embossed in the wax seal made his heart thunder even more.
He tried to open it, but between the thrilling tension and his dragonhide gloves, it proved to be a task harder than he had anticipated. Eventually, he had to lay it down and remove his gloves, so that he could finally break the wax.
He pulled out the sheet of parchment and began reading.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Longbottom,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
Neville stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, looking at the words without being able to actually read them. Fat tears dropped onto the parchment, and the sentence he thought he would never see pounded forcefully into his mind.
Mr. Longbottom, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts.
He walked into the house with unsteady steps, the letter in one hand and the envelope in the other.
His gran was sitting on the couch, so absorbed in a book that she didn’t hear him coming.
Neville took a step forward. “Gran?” he called, his voice low and hesitant.
She jerked towards him, her eyes roaming upon his figure and taking in with a scowl the muddy stains on his trousers and his puffy eyes.
“What have you done, this time?” she said with exasperation, standing up with an agility that never ceased to impress him.
He merely raised his arm, offering her the crumpled parchment.
She snatched the letter from his hand and began to read, her eyes growing wider and wider, and Neville could almost swear they were a bit glassy when she raised her head and looked at him, as astonished as he had ever seen her.
“You’re going to Hogwarts,” she murmured, and then she did something she had never done before, and being wrapped in his gran’s lean, strong arms felt almost as good as being admitted to Hogwarts.
“Well, this calls for some celebration,” she said eventually with a brisk tone, patting awkwardly on his shoulder. “I reckon we can invite some people round for tea the next Monday, for your birthday.”
Neville nodded, not trusting his ability to speak. It didn’t happen often that the Longbottom family gathered in his honour.
“Perfect. You’d better send an owl to Professor McGonagall right away, before you forget.”
The week preceding Neville’s birthday flew by in the blink of an eye, the thrill of being admitted to Hogwarts – and the implication that he must be a wizard, after all – making him as happy as he had ever felt.
When the day finally arrived, Neville was practically bouncing off the walls.
The guests were mostly of his gran’s age, but he was used to that, and they all spent a lovely afternoon in the summer warmth of their garden. Neville hadn’t heard so many compliments and encouragements all at once since the time that he had bounced down the street after his great-uncle had dropped him out of the window, and he loved being the center of attention for something good, for once. It was such an amazing feeling that not even Madam Marchbanks’ lecture about how much he would have to study to pass his O.W.L.s could put him off.
Finally, after an exquisite Victoria sponge, it was time to open the gifts, and if possible the afternoon took an even sweeter turn. Neville received Chocolate Wands and Cauldrons from Honeyduckes, a bottle of Invisible Ink, a brand new set of Gobstones, a deck of Self-Shuffling playing cards and much more, but the greatest gift was undoubtedly the one he received from his enthusiastic Uncle Algie.
“A toad!” exclaimed Neville with glee after opening the box.
“To keep you company at Hogwarts,” said his uncle, clapping him on the shoulder like a man. “It’ll do you good to take care of him.”
“I’ll call him Trevor,” decided Neville, trying to take his first ever pet in his hands.
They spent the following half hour looking for the toad.
After even Great-Uncle Algie and Aunt Enid had said goodbye, only Neville and his gran were left, and he felt like part of his happiness had walked away alongside their guests.
To keep his mind busy he decided to tidy up the garden, but he had barely started to collect the plates when he toppled the jug of pumpkin juice, spilling it all over the tablecloth.
“You should go to bed, before you do any more damage,” said his gran sharply. “I’ll took care of that.”
Her words stung, but Neville didn’t dare contradict her. He walked towards the doorway, feeling a bit sad, and her deep sigh did nothing to improve his dampened mood.
“Wait.”
He froze, then turned slowly toward his gran, not sure of what to expect.
“Come with me,” she said with a tone that sounded grave rather than stern.
Neville followed her to the master bedroom, but when she went inside he lingered at the door, knowing he wasn’t allowed there until told otherwise.
“What are you waiting for?” barked his gran with impatience.
Neville hurried in, still wondering what was happening exactly. Was she going to lecture him about all the things he mustn’t do at Hogwarts? Was she let down by something he had done? Had she changed her mind about letting him go?
“Sit, Neville,” she said stiffly, gesturing to the bed. “I have to give you your gift.”
His jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe his ears. “My… my gift?” he babbled, incredulous. “I thought… the party… and… and all the stuff for Hogwarts I’ll have to buy…”
His gran looked at him with piercing eyes, and Neville was about to lower his gaze when she offered him the shadow of a smile and opened the last drawer of her dresser.
She took out a slim box, roughly a dozen inches long, and put it gently on the dresser, lifting the black lid with both hands.
Neville was glad he hadn’t sat down, because he just had to bow his head a little to peer inside.
A beautiful wand lay at the bottom of the box, its wood rich brown and smooth.
“I’m sure your father would want you to have it.”
Neville twirled the wand between his hands for what felt like hours, before his eyelids finally became heavy. Only then did he open the first drawer of his bedside cabinet, and laid his father’s wand on top of a thick layer of empty Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum wrappers.