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If anyone had suggested, back at the end of the war, that Harry would become a journalist, everyone who knew him would have laughed in their face. Neville included. But more than 10 years later, Neville was a regular reader of the Daily Prophet, where Harry was now a senior correspondent. Over the years, it had become a part of Neville’s morning routine to read the Prophet over breakfast, before heading out to the greenhouses.
Neville smiled as the familiar tap of the delivery owl sounded against his window. He let the small creature in, fishing about in his pocket for a couple of knuts before swapping them for the paper. As the small owl took off with a soft hoot, Neville settled down in front of his eggs and bacon, unrolling the paper as he went.
He skimmed the front page, with a headline about another corrupt ministry official that Harry had managed to expose. One of the reasons Harry’s writing was so popular (aside from being one of the most popular men in Wizarding Britain already) was because he focused on issues that were actually important, rather than fluff pieces. What Neville really looked forward to each week, however, was Harry’s wildly popular column, “The Relevant Stuff”. He chuckled as he remembered the previous week’s piece, which tore down Rita Skeeter’s article about what Celestina Warbeck had worn to the gym that weekend.
“The war orphanage needs volunteers. Famed singer, Celestina Warbeck, who kindly donates her time every Friday before heading to the gym, said as much in her latest interview with WWN. Unfortunately, it seems we still live in an age where reporters are a lot more interested in what she wears for her regular workouts than the fact that just last Friday, she taught a young child to read.”
Curious as to what Harry had decided to rant about this week, Neville flipped through the paper. He stopped in shock as he came across his own picture, smiling up at him from right next to Harry’s column.
I talk about the war a lot. Anyone who’s spent more than 5 minutes in my presence (or reading my column) knows this. But I’m not the only one. The other day, a perfectly nice lady out on Diagon stopped to say hello to me. It was a fairly normal interaction, we chatted for a bit, then went our separate ways. But as she was leaving, she said “It’s such an honour to meet a war hero!”
War Hero? Me? I stood there flabbergasted, before heading home and thinking about her comment all night. I wonder who else she would have counted as a hero from the war. Probably my best friends, Ron and Hermione, who were with me every step of the way, and who saved my arse countless times. But it wasn’t the three of us who won the war. It was hundreds of incredibly brave witches and wizards who fought against what they knew was wrong. It was thousands of little actions, without which our world might have perished.
So for the next few weeks, in the lead up to the 15th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, I invite you, dear readers, to join me in learning about the other, unsung heroes of the war. First up is a dear friend of mine, one of the first people I met at Hogwarts: Neville Longbottom.
Neville choked on his coffee. Harry had written his column about him? Neville took a moment for his breathing to return to normal, before turning back to the column.
Those of us who knew him back in first year would have described him as shy and quiet. Not the kind of child you’d expect to grow into a war hero at all. But it was in first year that Neville’s incredible courage started to shine through. Dumbledore himself commended Neville on the simple act of standing up to his friends, and reminding them what was right. Merlin knows we’ve all had times in our lives where we couldn’t stand up to our friends, and yet he managed it at the age of eleven.
Neville smiled at that. He rubbed his neck, remembering the awkward position Hermione had frozen him in for the better part of the night. If it hadn’t been for an 7th year student who’d woken up early to study, he might have been there until breakfast.
As we grew older, I got to see first hand how his confidence and skill grew as well. I have no trouble admitting that Neville saved my life on numerous occasions, and was an invaluable friend on many more. He was one of the most loyal members of Dumbledore’s army. So loyal, in fact, that when I ran away, he decided to stay and keep fighting.
He frowned at that. Everyone knew Harry had gone to find the horcruxes, and that if it had been possible to stay, he would have too. Making a mental note to send him a strongly worded owl later, he kept reading.
When Death Eaters took over Hogwarts, he lead the resistance in every way possible. He stood up for students who were being tortured and treated unfairly. He undermined the Death Eaters’ efforts, by releasing prisoners and graffitiing the walls. When I saw him at the end of the year, he looked like a chopping block with all the scars he'd accumulated. But that never stopped him from fighting for what was right, for the things he cared about.
Neville was the one who helped me sneak into Hogwarts that May, and he’s the one who encouraged me to stay and fight, instead of sneaking right back out. Yes, dear readers, I wasn’t planning to fight that night. But thanks to Neville, I did. Thanks to him, every member of Dumbledore’s army, of the Order of the Phoenix, and of the general public who knew what was right took a stand. It was his call to action that stirred them, not mine.
Neville vaguely registered that his eggs were getting cold, and that he should probably eat as he read. He tried to take a bite without drawing his eyes away from the page, but with his mind reeling from Harry’s surprise, the runny yolk that he’d loved so much at school flopped off his spoon and straight onto the front of his robes. Giving up on the eggs, he shoved a piece of bacon back into his mouth before turning back to the article.
And he didn’t stop when the fight arrived. Throughout the night at the battle of Hogwarts, he was there on the front lines, leading people on, encouraging them. He played to his strengths, coming up with creative solutions such as mandrakes, devil’s snare and bubbotubers to protect the beloved castle that has raised countless generations of our community.
Most of you already know this. You all know the story of how he stood up to Voldemort and slayed the snake, when everyone thought I was dead. But unlike a lot of people (me included), his heroics didn’t end when Voldemort fell.
Today, Neville is under-recognised as the researcher responsible for discovering that Gillyweed potency in saltwater is highly reduced compared to the effects in freshwater (one day I’ll write about the triwizard tournament, and you’ll see why this topic is important to me). You might be asking why we care about the fish-anatomy-inducing properties of gillyweed, when it’s more prevalent as a recreational drug, especially among Hogwarts-aged students. I wrote an exposé on the rising rates of overdose, especially among youth who are unaware of the dangers this drug can pose to their health. St. Mungo’s now deals with at least 5 urgent cases of gillyweed use per week, which, considering our relatively small population, is an alarmingly high number. What has changed in the years since Neville started his research, however, is that now 5 out of 5 patients will survive a critical episode, whereas just 5 years ago, if we were lucky, only 1 would. This is because healers now know to mix salt into the water they use to hydrate their patients, thus dimming the effects of the gillyweed on the body, rather than encouraging it by feeding them freshwater. His work saves the lives of over a hundred young adults every single year.
While his research is in the public domain and available to all, only the few who are lucky enough to call him a close friend know about his most important trait of all—his compassion. I was most struck by it when he spoke at the Death Eater trials, in the weeks after the war. Most of us who’d fought at Hogwarts were barely able to leave the house to buy tea from the corner shop, because the grief was so strong. But this brave, selfless, kind hearted man went to every trial and spoke on behalf of every student who was unfairly accused of Death Eater activities because of their Hogwarts house or their family ties. He was there, defending his old rivals and bullies mere days after losing so much, simply because he knew it was the right thing to do. And good thing too, as he later fell in love with one of the aforementioned rivals.
Neville couldn’t help smiling at that. He’d never been happier about his decision to speak at the trials than the day when Blaise had asked him out for dinner, or the night they’d had their first kiss, or the weekend away where he’d proposed. Okay, so he was happy every day that he had his husband by his side, even if he came with some snarky friends (Neville would never admit it, but he secretly loved the attitude that was characteristic of Blaise’s friends). Sometimes Neville wondered how such an Adonis had fallen in love with him, but his looks weren’t the only thing Blaise had going for him; he was also quick witted and clever, and when Draco had had a neat little divorce right after young Scorpius was born, they had taken no small amount of pleasure in setting him up with Harry.
I asked Neville’s adorable godson, Scorpius Malfoy, “What’s the best thing about Neville?”
His answer? “His gigantinormous heart!” While my five-year-old witness might have mixed up a few words, his meaning is clear. Neville is one of the most caring people on this planet.
We see countless examples of it from him every day, whether it’s the endless hours he donates to tutoring Hogwarts students, or the constant supply of potions ingredients that he grows, free of charge for the hospital, or his more anonymous acts of kindness, such as the sandwich he gave to a homeless woman in muggle London last Tuesday, despite knowing he didn’t have time to go buy another one for himself.
He really is a hero, in every way, and I’m so proud to be able to count him as a friend.
Next week, join me in the adventures of the brilliant Mrs. Luna Weasley-Lovegood.
Neville blinked back his tears as he stared at the article. His gaze moved towards the picture, which he had recognised immediately. It was a copy of the one hanging on the wall directly in front of him, from Scorpius’ third birthday. Harry had cut the half with Scorpius in it, leaving only Neville’s wide smile as Scorpius told him some unintelligible joke or other about dragons and unicorns. It was his favourite picture, just like it was of one of his favourite memories.
“You’re still here?” Neville relaxed into Blaise’s touch as his husband wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Neville’s shoulder. Neville was usually out in the greenhouses by the time Blaise woke up. “Ah. He released the article today.”
“You knew about this?” Neville demanded. “And you didn’t think to warn me?”
“Warn you about what? He wanted it to be a surprise, and I agreed wholeheartedly. In fact, I don’t think I would have known either if he hadn’t wanted a copy of that picture.”
Neville sighed, looking down at the paper again.
“This is really incredible of him,” he said softly, the tears making a sudden reappearance. He turned his head away slightly—after 7 years or marriage, he still felt shy about crying in front of his husband.
“It’s a nice thing that he did, but you’re missing the point. It’s you who lived all those stories, who works so hard every day to make this world so beautiful. It’s you who spends every waking moment sharing as much love as he can, and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
Unable to control himself, Neville buried his face in Blaise’s shoulder. He was now sobbing at full force, overwhelmed by the amount of love he was receiving.
“There’s one more surprise for you,” Blaise said softly, as Neville’s sobs started to die down. Neville sat up and wiped his face on his sleeve, and gave his husband a curious look.
“Go open the door,” Blaise instructed. Neville did as he was told, and there on the porch, wrapped in Molly Weasley’s famous Christmas jumpers, were Harry and Scorpius. Scorpius ran forward and hugged Neville’s legs, before turning back to Harry and grabbing a bouquet of plain muggle tulips from his hand.
“These are for you, Uncle Neville!” Scorpius said happily. “We wanted to remind you that we love you so much!”
Neville dropped to his knees, bringing himself to Scorpius’ eye level, and wrapped his godson in a tight hug. He’d never admit it (though he was sure it was always written plain as day on his face), but Scorpius would always be his favourite person. His godson was a bright child, and everyone could tell that he would one day grow up to be a wonderful young man. As Neville pulled back from the hug and beamed up at Harry, he realised he wanted Scorpius to become everything Harry had listed in the article—a brave, compassionate and kind leader dedicated to whatever work he might love in the future.
As he straightened up and gave Harry a hug as well, inviting them both in for hot chocolate, Neville realised that he was proud. Proud to be able to model the right kind of behaviours for Scorpius, and to help raise such a wonderful child. He wondered how many other youngsters might take something away from this new series of articles Harry was writing. How many of them would learn the importance of bravery, compassion, discipline, leadership, curiosity, tolerance, teamwork, and so many other traits that were important for a developing young witch or wizard to learn?
Maybe he could accept the title of Hero after all, if only to be able to inspire the heroes of tomorrow.
“I can’t wait to see what kind of hero you become one day, buddy,” he whispered to Scorpius as he sat his godson down at the kitchen table. “And I love you too.”