All sorted
‘Trevor,’ Neville exclaimed in the middle of Professor McGonagall’s welcome speech, earning him a look of disapproval from the Deputy Headmistress and sniggers from some of the other first years, in particular a blond-haired boy with, what seemed to be, a perpetual smirk.
Trevor looked over Neville’s shoulder and caught the silver-grey eyes of the striking fair haired student.
‘Not bad looking,’ he thought, ‘a bit haughty, perhaps. Neville could do worse’, he supposed.
‘Where have you been?’ Neville whispered. ‘I have been looking all over for you.’
Of course, the question was rhetorical, but if Trevor had been able to talk, he could have told Neville all about his train explorations and nearly missing the transport to Hogwarts, if it hadn’t been for a chance encounter with a knowledgeable owl.
Out in the wild, owls would consider a toad a tasty morsel, but as he knew from his time in the Magical Menagerie, most magical pets posed no threat to each other, though he would not venture too close to any snakes: unpredictable creatures, the lot of them.
When the Hogwarts Express slowed down at Hogsmeade station, Trevor had found himself beside a stack of trunks and some crates. He had been chatting with one of the owls, a bird named Errol, and as the students were getting off, the owl hooted, ‘If you are planning on going to Hogwarts, you better hop into one of the trunks or crates, as this lot will be magically transported to the castle as soon as the last student has left the train.’ Not wanting to be left behind, he had hopped into Errol’s crate and before he could say ‘Hope you don’t mind the company,’ they had been whizzed through time and space and materialised in the Castle entrance. With a quick ‘Thank you’ to Errol, he had hopped along the corridor until he heard the sound of voices, or more accurately, one very authoritative voice, belonging to the Deputy Headmistress, who now seemed none too pleased with the interruption by young Neville.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
From the safety of Neville’s pocket he observed his surroundings, as the group of first years was being ushered into the Great Hall. It looked quite cosy, but the four long tables, with expectant faces lining each side of them, were a bit daunting.
Trevor wondered what they were all waiting for.
‘Abbott , Hannah’ he heard McGonagall announce and after a short silence a strange voice exclaimed ‘Hufflepuff’, which was met with applause from one of the tables.
‘They must be sorting the new students somehow,’ Trevor deduced, as another name was announced.
He could feel Neville’s body trembling with fear and hoped that the poor lad would not faint.
‘Longbottom, Neville’, McGonnagle called after what seemed like an eternity.
Trevor was tossed around the robe's pocket, as Neville stumbled nervously to the little stool at the top of the hall.
‘Gryffindor,’ the voice declared, shortly after a tatty looking hat was placed on his head, and Trevor could feel Neville’s body relax, as one of the tables shouted a welcome.
‘That was my parents’ house, Trevor,’ Neville whispered to the toad.
Trevor of course knew this, as he had heard Augusta mention it about a million times, ever since Neville received his Hogwarts letter.
‘Potter, Harry,’ a hushed silence came over the hall, as everyone waited with bated breath.
It seemed to take the hat a long time to sort young Harry, who appeared to be squirming in his seat. Trevor wondered what would happen if someone could not be placed in one of the four houses, would they be sent home? Having felt Neville tremble while being sorted, he wondered how the poor Potter boy was feeling.
He might be a toad, but even he was familiar with the tales of the Boy who Lived and even among the magical pets there had been whispers about the fact that Harry was on the train.
When Trevor had nearly given up on the whole thing and was about to take a nap in Neville’s pocket, the hat finally announced ‘Gryffindor’, followed by a lot of whooping and clapping from the table where Neville had moments ago been seated, but now seemed to have leapt up, joining his new house in their raucous welcome, nearly causing Trevor to be flung from his pocket.
‘Augusta will be chuffed that her grandson and the Boy who Lived were sorted into the same house,’ Trevor mused.
If Augusta was to be believed, Lily and Alice were confined in the delivery ward of St Mungo’s hospital, around the same time.
Of course, in those days he was just another baby boy being born in the wizarding world. Neither set of proud parents would have been able to predict that the lives of these two baby boys would be turned upside down for ever in just a few short years.
‘Funny how fate had brought them back together now, eleven years later. Not that fate had much to do with it,’ Trevor supposed, ‘with only one wizarding school in the country, they were bound to meet up here eventually.’