When his grandmother had asked Neville to find Harry Potter on the train and make friends with him, he had been terrified, the boy who had barely gotten into Hogwarts, the boy whose entire family had believed a squib was now expected to make friends with the boy who lived, the child who had saved magical Britain, who had defeated the monster that was he who shall not be named. Neville had almost immediately given up on said task instead finding himself a nice empty compartment and sitting down expecting a long and lonely ride to Hogwarts.