PROLOGUE
PROLOGUE
Neville did not have many friends. He was a loner in every sense; after being placed in the care of his grandmother he had less freedom as a child, didn’t go out much, was constantly stressed about being a Squib (wasn’t a Squib)…
So Neville was sat in the common room, watching the fire, thinking about home, feeling a little lonely, turning around at the sound of a disturbance behind him – was that Seamus’ dorm?
“Ron? Is that you?” he asked to the darkness.
The shadowy figure stopped, hesitated, and stepped out into the light of the fire.
“Harry?” Neville stood up from the plush armchair. “What are you doing out of bed?”
Harry was wearing his school robe, hood over his brow like a menacing twelve-year-old Grim Reaper. Neville, not appalled in the slightest, had his focus on one thing only.
“What’s in your robe?”
There was something moving in there – shifting, wriggling, Harry was struggling to keep it in place, covered it with his robe.
“Neville, it’s not important – seriously,” and then someone else clambered down the steps of the girl’s dorms loudly as if they were trying to wake up the hood.
The boys were silent until they saw bushy brown hair.
“Neville?” Hermione said sharply. “What are you doing up?”
The three seemed at a bit of a standstill. Neville wasn’t keen on telling Hermione or Haruchi why he was awake and they didn’t seem keen on enlightening him, either. They looked at each other like opposing forces against the Dark Lord and Harry inevitably broke the silence.
“Hermione, we have to get going,” he muttered. “Seriously, we have to go,” he said in an even quieter tone.
Hermione was brittle and sharp as always, approaching the situation in a sanitary manner. “Neville, if we take you with us then you can’t tell anyone – anyone, you hear me?”
Neville was intrigued and was quick to promise. Something continued to wriggle in Harry’s robe and Hermione looked at Nevile distrustfully.
“Cross your heart,” she said sharply. Neville did so.
“Maybe we should do a spit-promise,” suggested Harry, hands full of a moving (creature??).
“Ugh,” Hermione said. “Don’t be disgusting, Harry. I’d expect those kinds of things from Ron, not you.” Then she turned to Neville, arms crossed and eyes sharp in the flickering flames of the fire. “Well?”
She could have been tapping her foot in impatience on the ground for the speed that Neville moved. Soon the trio were walking out of the common room and down the halls towards a destination Neville was yet to know of and too nervous to ask about, lest Hermione be the one to respond. Neville enjoyed her help in potions, but was scared of her anger she was yet to show him but he was sure would be painful to experience.
They started in a brisk jog when they heard the tolling of the clock, signifying it was the top of the hour.
“They’ll be waiting for us,” complained Harry, and Hermione tittered in aggravation also. Neville wondered who ‘they’ were, and why he’d even wanted to be included so much to as left the toasty and comfortable common room for a jog around the cold corridors.
Hermione motioned Harry and Neville up multiple sets of steps, spitting answers for portrait-riddles as of they’d personally offended her, the occupants occasionally moving with haste when seeing her speed but also going to slower to anger her.
It was a daring mix and Neville was only glad to not be on the receiving end of Hermione’s mood.
The pair led Neville to a part of the castle he’d never been to, picking up their speed to a run and then –
It was cold. The chill cut through Neville’s pyjamas. And the other things Neville noticed:
- They were on the roof
- There were other silhouettes on the roof
- None of those silhouettes went to their school
“Uh – Harry?” Neville muttered unsurely, appealing to the less strict of his acquaintances.
“Harry?” said a louder voice – one of the strangers from the darkness.
The person stepped out, towards the trio –
“Charlie?” Harry said, still holding the wriggling package.
The man Harry called Charlie took another step towards the students. “Is that it?” he asked.
The man’s hair was still the brightest red, even in the dappled light. His face was shadowed, a mess of cheekbones and sharp jawline, prominent Adam’s apple, skin a sun-kissed colour. His broad shoulders were covered with a dark jacket – the lighting was too poor to know what it was made out of but the style indicated leather. The man stepped forward in denim-clad legs, (strong thighs), hands reaching towards what was in Harry’s grip.
Harry unwrapped the thing in his robes…
“A dragon?” Neville exclaimed. He took a step closer to what was now in Charlie’s grip. “A Norwegian Ridgeback?”
The attractive man was cradling the dragon to his chest. “She’s a real beauty, ain’t she?”
Neville took another hesitant step forward. “Wow,” Neville said. “Harry, where did you get this?”
He wondered why he got Trevor and Harry got a Ridgeback.
The man laughed. “Ah, kid,” he said with a chuckle. “Ask no questions, hear no lies. That’s between me and Harry.” The man paused to accommodate for the dargon’s shifting. “How did you know ‘e was a Ridgeback, anyways?”
Neville wanted to touch the dragon, but was in equal parts scared of the beast and scared of getting too close to the man who he was not sure would appreciate the gesture, even if it was due to admiration for the dragon.
“The scales,” Neville muttered. “They always glimmer…”
“…no matter how much light there is,” Charlie finished for him.
No matter how bad his memory was, Neville always remembered facts about dragons and plants. Someone grabbed Charlie’s shoulder from behind him. “Charlie, we gotta go,” his friend said.
Neville took a step back, aware of when people were done talking to him and all too used to it.
“Hey, kid,” the man said, stopping Neville’s movement. “What’s your name?”
“Neville,” Neville replied.
“I’m Charlie,” the man – Charlie – said. “I’ll see you around,” he said, eyes smart and sparkling, like he had a secret in them that he wanted to only tell Neville…the dragon was passed back to someone else and placed in a crate, the strangers took their places on their brooms, kicking off – the person with the Ridgeback was already racing ahead, but the red-head lagged behind.
“Thanks, Harry,” Charlie shouted over the distance. “Later, Neville!” Charlie waved.
And then he was gone. Had Neville made a friend that easily?
And a friend…that was as beautiful as this mysterious Charlie?
Senpai: comment if you want me to continue! >.<
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