"I've got him, Gran!" cried Neville proudly, hoisting Trevor up to his gran's face.

"Just keep hold of him this time," she sighed. Neville could see how exasperated she was with him. Every five minutes it seemed Trevor tried to escape. It wasn't his fault; he tried to get Trevor to like him but no matter what he did, the amphibian seemed to prefer to be anywhere that Neville wasn't.

"Now, where is your wand?" Neville's gran asked. Neville stared at her blankly for a few seconds. "Oh, I packed it in your bag's front pocket, Neville! I've told you a hundred times. Please tell me you remembered to pick up your packed lunch from the side."

Neville could see it now. His favourite jam sandwiches, cut up into small squares, a couple of packets biscuits and an apple, packed into a simple plastic container that was so old Neville suspected it was older than he was, sat on the kitchen counter. His gran had told him repeatedly to not forget it but he could picture himself checking his bag before they left. It wasn't in there.

He bit his lip and looked up at his guardian.

"Oh, Neville," she snapped. "What am I going to do with you?"

Neville felt his lower lip trembling and pressure building up behind his eyes. How could he be so stupid? It seemed he lived to disappoint his gran sometimes. How was he meant to cope at Hogwarts without her?

"I'm sorry, Gran," he mumbled quietly. As he did, he felt Trevor's powerful back legs kick against him in the hopes that he could hop away down the platform. He clung tighter to his pet and willed himself not to cry.

He fully expected her to continue chastising his forgetfulness but instead Neville heard his grandmother sigh. She placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze.

"You're going to be fine, Neville," she told him in a soft voice he doubted he had heard her use before. "It might take a mite longer than some others but you will find something you excel at and you will blow 'em out of the water."

Neville sniffed and attempted a smile. "Ok, just don't hold your breath."

He knew he had said the wrong thing as soon as he saw the fire burn behind her eyes.

"I will not have you speaking like that!" she barked at him. "You are a Longbottom, mister. It is about time you started acting like one!"

Fighting to keep Trevor in his grasp, Neville squared his shoulders and straightened his jacket up.

"That's the spirit, boy!" his gran said, giving him a surprisingly hard clap on the back. She regarded him happily for a moment before she spoke again,

"You'll do them proud, Neville. Just you wait. You'll do them proud."

Without needing to ask who she was talking about, Neville gave her the best smile he could before picking up his trunk and preparing to board the train in the hope that one day he would prove his gran right.