A True Gryffindor

A True Gryffindor

Prologue

"...It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies. But it takes a great deal more to stand up to your friends..."

Neville Longbottom didn't hear which house the headmaster given the points. He didn't even hear which student. He didn't need to hear, for he already knew.

Gryffindor was home to those who were brave at heart. Bravery and loyalty were the key qualities of those placed in the house of the lion. Bravery and loyalty, but loyalty to whom? Mark Evans was a peculiar boy. His hair was white blonde and his smile devious. His eyes were a deep emerald green, a trait which marked all Evanses. In some ways, Mark was as timid as Neville himself had been at that age. He was a tempting victim for any Slytherin who needed to practice their hexes on.

Then, one evening only but a week ago, Mark had done a horrible thing. Harry was heading off on one of his never ending rescue missions. Besides Harry, Neville was present, as were Ron and Hermione. Mark stood in the doorway, blocking it.

"Evans," Hermione said, her voice dangerously quiet, "get out of the way."

"You can't go," Mark responded. "I won't permit it. I can't let you throw any more innocents into Azkaban."

"Those people were Death Eaters, Mark, not innocents," Harry said. He sounded bored.

"They were innocent," Mark disagreed.

"Stop being ridiculous, Evans. Out of the way or I'll have to hex you," Hermione muttered.

Mark pointed his wand at Hermione's throat. "You're not going to hex me, Mudblood."

Mark's comment was not heard by any others but Hermione and Neville, who had been standing right next to her. This was how Neville knew Mark didn't deserve any awards. He had then blasted Hermione unconscious. Ron hit him over the head with a book, and they had continued on.

Most first years knew not to mess with Hermione Granger. She was faster, smarter, and more accurate than they were. And none of them - not even the Slytherins - ever called her "Mudblood". Neville couldn't help but to notice that Hermione wasn't clapping, either. But Harry was. He said that Mark only had their best at heart, and he hadn't really meant any harm. Neville know better than that.

"Neville?" Ginny Weasley asked gently, interrupting his thoughts. The roar that echoed throughout the Great Hall reached his ears once again.

Neville shook his head and smiled. "Yes?"

"You got that award your first year, didn't you?"

He nodded slowly. "How did you know?"

She smiled. "Ron. He also said it was you who brought Gryffindor ahead of Slytherin for the House Cup. He said it was a perfect tie. Fancy that!"

"Perhaps." He shrugged. "I'll bet that Ron didn't tell you that I spent five hours in a full body bind for ten measly points."

"No, he failed to mention that part." Ginny turned to watch the ravenous students pile food on their plates. "I'm not that hungry," she announced.

"Me neither," agreed Neville. "I suppose I ought to go pack. I haven't had an opportunity yet."

Ginny nodded. "I'll come with you," she said. She stood up. "It makes me sick watching people eat when I'm not hungry."

"If you want."

* * * * *

Ginny looked at Neville as they walked. His once baby-like face had melted into a handsome one, and his once cowardly nature had become brave and even more stubborn then he once was. He was controlled and quick with his wand. His hair was longer, and fell down to about the length of Draco's. He, in fact, had grown to be everything he wanted to be when he was younger. Ginny envied him, in a way.

Neville saw Ginny watching at him from the corner of his eye, but when he turned to glance at her, she looked away. He stared ahead again, and Ginny spoke.

"It's sad to see Harry with Mark all the time. I heard he stuck up for him after he cursed Hermione."

Neville nodded. "He says that Mark only has out best interests at heart."

"Best interests my foot," Ginny muttered. "Hermione agrees with me. Mark is replacing all of us and it's not good for Harry."

"I'm sure it'll pass. Harry's just pleased to have family."

"One gets tired of family. I do, at least."

Neville winced. The only family he had ever really known was his grandmother. He had lived with his parents until Bellatrix had used the Cruciatus Curse on them and drove them out of their sanity. Since he had no siblings, he and his grandmother lived alone, in a big, empty house, just outside of Nottingham.

"I'm sorry, Neville," Ginny apologized when she realized what she had said. She had nearly forgotten about Neville's parents.

"It's okay," Neville shrugged. "It's not that big of a deal. I'm used to it."

Ginny sighed, relieved, "I was afraid you might flip out on me like...."

She faded off, not wishing to insult a friend, but Neville knew what she meant. "Like Harry?"

She nodded, and, eager to change the subject, asked, "What career did you select? Harry mentioned that you were in all his NEWT classes."

Neville looked at the ground as he walked. "An Auror."

Ginny stopped so suddenly she nearly fell backwards. "Neville!"

He turned around to acknowledge her, and she continued, "You must be kidding."

He shook his head.

"But, but after what she did to your parents!"

"Bellatrix?" Neville shrugged, as if it weren't a big deal. "She's being tortured right now. Voldemort...for heaven's sake, Ginny, you should be used to hearing his name by now...is disappointed in her, but he won't kill her because she's too valuable. Just like Pettigrew."

Ginny looked at Neville unbelievingly. "How do you know that?"

"Divination," he said, and they began walking again, but his pace was quickened.

"You're actually Seeing stuff?"

"Sometimes."

"Neville, that's really, really rare. Especially in Trelawny's class," she stated. "Have you told anyone?"

He shook his head. By now they had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Neville Longbottom I should kick you!" Ginny muttered. "Why not?"

"What's the point?" he asked. "You saw how they all treated Harry when he started having visions and dreams. They all thought that he was going to be Voldemort's secret weapon. Uric the Oddball," he added to the Fat Lady.

"But Harry's okay now," Ginny insisted as she followed Neville through the portrait hole.

Neville shrugged. "I don't really want to talk about this, Ginny."

"Fine," she mumbled. She watched as Neville raced up to his dormitory.

He began throwing stuff in his trunk; his clothing and winter robes rolled up into quaffle-like shapes. Every ounce of his anger and frustration about Bellatrix, Harry, and everything else went into the violent packing of his trunk, until he wore himself out. Still hurt, he punched one of the wood pillars on his bed, denting the wood. Then, without any remaining strength or patience, he curled up against the wall, buried his face in his arms, and cried the bitter tears of hatred.

From the safety of the doorway, Ginny Weasley watched him. Gentle strands of her sunset-coloured hair fell from her tightly pulled back ponytail, and were dampened by her salty tears. She didn't know much about Neville Longbottom, but she knew enough to know that he had every reason to weep. His parents were worse then dead, and the one who wronged them was back with her master. The Dark Lord was building up power, and soon enough Muggle-borns would be dying again. Somehow she knew that this summer would be one filled with despair.