accio-shitpost:

tell me the story of neville longbottom, the other boy who lived.

tell me the story of a boy who was born unimpressive, who could have been a chosen one had snape listened longer at the door. who had parents that loved and cherished him for far too short a time. who lost his mother and father to the cruelty of death eaters, who had to grow up with a family that always saw him as less than who he was, who he could be, because his magic remained hidden inside him, coiled like a snake.

tell me the story of a boy who could never quite handle school, who could never muster the courage to raise his hand in class, who always messed up his potions somehow. who sat in the gryffindor common room as hermione patiently went over her history of magic notes for him and wondered for the millionth time why he didn’t end up a hufflepuff. who never saw himself as anything special, not really, because there were other kids in his year whose stars burned brighter, while he struggled just to keep up with the bottom of the class.

tell me the story of a boy who stepped up, who foresaw hogwarts descending into darkness and refused to let it happen without a fight. who became the next leader of their secret fight against the dark lord, rebelling against snape and the carrows from within the castle. who led the surge to take the sword of gryffindor from snape’s office; who took blow after blow from torturing death eaters to try and protect the first-years who didn’t deserve any of this. who ended up hiding in the castle, creating a supply line to hogsmeade and continuing to fight under threat of expulsion (and worse) because someone had to do it.

tell me the story of the unchosen one, who went from a nervous little boy to the slayer of nagini in seven years. tell me about that neville longbottom.