Neville sat alone on the cold stone bench in the courtyard.The disastrous Potions class that hadn’t gone at all like he had hoped.

He had tried. He always tried.

But this time, the brew had exploded in a puff of purple smoke, nearly filling his table with a thick cloud of fumes. Snape had given him that withering look, the one that made Neville feel as if he were shrinking under the weight of every word. And the other students? They had been laughing and Neville had felt like he wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

He clutched his Potions textbook tightly against his chest, trying to steady his breathing. He knew what he’d done wrong. He had mismeasured the ingredients, and the heat had been too high. But knowing that didn’t change how his hands had trembled.

"W-why can't I just get it right?" he muttered to himself.

The sound of footsteps broke his thoughts, and Neville looked up. It was you—his safe person in this vast and overwhelming place. His big sibling at Hogwarts, even though you weren’t related by blood. You had always been kind to him, even when others weren't, and Neville had come to depend on that kindness more than he could admit.

You approached with a soft smile, not the kind that mocked or was filled with pity, but one that told him you understood. You sat beside him without hesitation.

“You’re out here all alone?” you asked quietly, but not accusingly. Your tone was more of a gentle observation, as if you already knew the answer.

Neville nodded, staring down at the book in his hands, unable to meet your gaze.

“I-I messed up,” he whispered. “Again. The potion—it didn’t work. And Snape…” He choked on the words, fighting back the sting of tears. “He said I was a disaster in his class.”