Mrs. Augusta Longbottom, of Longbottom Manor, was very proud to say that she came from an exceptionally magical family, thank you very much. She was always pleased to tell any stranger willing to listen about her beloved son and her daughter-in-law. She was less pleased when the conversation shifted to Neville, her grandson.
She loved her grandson, no doubt about that. He looked just like his father; however, he had his mother's ever-so-complex hazel eyes. Mrs. Longbottom only wished he had inherited both of their talents in magic. See, everyone had thought Neville was a squib-- up until he was dropped out of a window when he was eight, that is. His Great Uncle Algie had precariously dangled him out of a window and was then distracted when his wife offered him a meringue. Neville, instead of dying from being dropped from such a height, had bounced from the garden and out into the road. Everyone was so relieved that a party was thrown, in which Neville received his beloved pet toad. Everyone came. Everyone, except for Nevilles parents.
They couldn't have come, what with being dead and all. When Neville was a baby, a horrible attack was made on his parents. The Dark Lord, whos' name I shall not disclose here, attempted to kill Neville on Halloween night, killing his parents in the process. The Dark Lord made an attempt to use the killing curse on him, but it backfired. It deflected off of Neville, hitting the Dark Lord instead, and leaving Neville with no injuries save for a scar akin to those sustained when one is struck by lightning. Neville was then found by some family friends and promptly dropped at the doorstep of his gran's house.
Growing up, Neville was victim to relentless attention by his peers, both good and bad. Being the 'boy-who-lived' was pretty much a guarantee that you would be popular. To some, this would be amazing; being the center of attention at all times. To Neville, though, it was horrible. Having all eyes on him constantly made him feel like he was riding a rollercoaster with a never-ending drop, and seeing people start whispering about him made him feel nauseous.
Now, Neville stands, nervously wringing his hands. He's standing uncomfortably close to Gran, she was never someone who believed in personal space, waiting to board the Hogwarts express for the first time. He'd never seen it in person before, on account of having no siblings. When it rolled in, gleaming red and puffing opaque white steam, Neville found a feeling of dread had settled right in the pits of his stomach. Just the thought of having to go on, and find an empty car-- because Merlin forbid he would have to ask to sit with someone-- was making him dizzy.
The doors do the train opened, and hundreds of students began to shuffle on. Gran trapped him in a too-close hug while she said her goodbyes before pushing Neville forward as a final send off.
As Neville made his way into the crowd and onto the Hogwarts Express, he felt a bit like a lamb going to the slaughter. He took one last look at Gran through the door before he was forced further up the steps and reluctantly began the search for an empty car.