[ If there's one thing Neville was sure of, it was that nothing could be scarier than fighting Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. It was a nightmare, coming face to face with his parents' torturers, watching his friends being attacked and desperately trying to fight back. Worse, to hear, to see Harry there in the middle of Dumbledore and You-Know-Who's battle. Nothing could compare, certainly.
But then he woke up here, in a world that's...painfully familiar, and equally as foreign. Diagon Alley was....not so different that it had been over the summer, really, but there was a sharper edge beneath it somehow. Something that edged under skin and shuddered there, wetly. It's not right, but if what he'd seen in the Prophet was true, well, nothing was was it? For several long moments Neville wanders, aimless and formless, trying to avoid drawing attention for as long as he can. He needs time to fit things together, time to puzzle everything out. Time to figure out what to do next, when he's alone in an entirely new place.
Except -- except that's a familiar figure up ahead, isn't it? The sloped shoulders, the riotous hair, it could be anybody but Merlin Neville hopes it's Harry. Quickly, quickly, he gathers himself and takes long strides forward, heart in his throat until he's close enough to call out. ]
Harry?
[ Soft enough to avoid attracting undue attention, loud enough for Harry to hear. Hopefully. ]
[ Harry hears his name, which isn't all that uncommon back home. But here? Here, he doesn't really know anyone, and anyone who does know him ... well, it'd be because he'd just met them and told them that he's their son.
(Yes, he's speaking of James Potter and Lily Evans.)
So it is with some surprise that Harry turns towards the sound of his name, and -- oh, blimey. Is that? It is. And he looks age-appropriate, too. That is, he looks like he'd only seen him just yesterday. ]
Neville. [ Harry's relief is palpable, written in his features. He reaches out to clasp his friend on the shoulder because what are hugs. ] Neville, is that you?
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dia-going
Date: 2017-09-04 07:34 pm (UTC)But then he woke up here, in a world that's...painfully familiar, and equally as foreign. Diagon Alley was....not so different that it had been over the summer, really, but there was a sharper edge beneath it somehow. Something that edged under skin and shuddered there, wetly. It's not right, but if what he'd seen in the Prophet was true, well, nothing was was it? For several long moments Neville wanders, aimless and formless, trying to avoid drawing attention for as long as he can. He needs time to fit things together, time to puzzle everything out. Time to figure out what to do next, when he's alone in an entirely new place.
Except -- except that's a familiar figure up ahead, isn't it? The sloped shoulders, the riotous hair, it could be anybody but Merlin Neville hopes it's Harry. Quickly, quickly, he gathers himself and takes long strides forward, heart in his throat until he's close enough to call out. ]
Harry?
[ Soft enough to avoid attracting undue attention, loud enough for Harry to hear. Hopefully. ]
no subject
Date: 2017-09-09 03:54 am (UTC)(Yes, he's speaking of James Potter and Lily Evans.)
So it is with some surprise that Harry turns towards the sound of his name, and -- oh, blimey. Is that? It is. And he looks age-appropriate, too. That is, he looks like he'd only seen him just yesterday. ]
Neville. [ Harry's relief is palpable, written in his features. He reaches out to clasp his friend on the shoulder because what are hugs. ] Neville, is that you?