CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“What happened?” Hermione asked him, leading him over to sit
with Harry and Ron.
“Malfoy,” said Neville shakily. “I met him outside the library. He
said he’d been looking for someone to practice that on.”
“Go to Professor McGonagall!” Hermione urged Neville. “Re-
port him!”
Neville shook his head.
“I don’t want more trouble,” he mumbled.
“You’ve got to stand up to him, Neville!” said Ron. “He’s used to
walking all over people, but that’s no reason to lie down in front of
him and make it easier.”
“There’s no need to tell me I’m not brave enough to be in
Gryffindor, Malfoy’s already done that,” Neville choked out.
Harry felt in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate
Frog, the very last one from the box Hermione had given him for
Christmas. He gave it to Neville, who looked as though he might
cry.
“You’re worth twelve of Malfoy,” Harry said. “The Sorting Hat
chose you for Gryffindor, didn’t it? And where’s Malfoy? In stink-
ing Slytherin.”
Neville’s lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog.
“Thanks, Harry . . . I think I’ll go to bed. . . . D’you want the
card, you collect them, don’t you?”
As Neville walked away, Harry looked at the Famous Wizard
card.
“Dumbledore again,” he said, “He was the first one I ever —”
He gasped. He stared at the back of the card. Then he looked up
at Ron and Hermione.
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