The levels of badassery on your Internet just went up a hundredfold. At least. More like infinityfold. This, my dear people, as I am sure you know (you had better know), is Neville Fucking Longbottom.
Let me begin by saying we all know Neville had a ridiculously tough childhood. His parents were so far gone they couldn’t recognize him, and all he had of them was what his grandmother told him. And most of what his grandmother told him was comparison, and not in the good kinda way. Maybe she didn’t mean to, but she constantly made Neville feel he would never be clever enough, brave enough, good enough. For years, the entire family was convinced he was a Squib and can you imagine that? In a family of purebloods? I don’t care how unprejudiced they were, I’m convinced it caused some tension and plenty of embarrassment, the idea of a Squib in an old wizarding family like theirs. Hell, his own uncle almost drowned him and later dropped him out a window in an attempt to get him to magic.
So by the time he got to Hogwarts, little Neville Longbottom was already convinced he wasn’t worth much. He was completely bewildered by being sorted into Gryffindor, and probably spent many a miserable hour convinced it had been a terrible mistake. And kids teased him for his terrible memory and his clumsiness and his tendency to melt cauldrons. And teachers didn’t like him much, with the exception of Professor Sprout; they wondered where the brilliance of Frank and Alice was in this boy. And Snape was so cruel to Neville that by the third year, he was the thing the poor boy feared most in all the world, because Snape reminded Neville every class of all the things Neville hated about himself and couldn’t forgive.
But there were a few bright points. There were Harry and Ron, who told him he was better than Draco Malfoy and helped him learn he’s worth standing up for. There was Ginny, who went to the Yule Ball with him, despite the fact that he stepped on her toes. There was Hermione, who I think is always one of his closest friends (in a completely platonic way) — she was the first person at school to be nice to him, helping him find Trevor on the train; she helped him through his classes, especially Potions; even though she’s the brightest witch of her age, she never made Neville feel stupid. But there’s also the fact that Neville was always alone in Gryffindor. There were five boys in their year, in that dorm, and it was always Harry and Ron, Seamus and Dean, and Neville, just Neville. And don’t think he didn’t notice.
Until the DA. Just like Luna, Neville is saved by Dumbledore’s Army. At the first meeting, no one would partner him, but slowly he made progress and suddenly he had purpose and friends and was good at something other than Herbology. And for the first time ever, he felt like he belonged. And he grew stronger and tougher and that bravery the Sorting Hat saw years ago began to shine through. And when it comes right down to it, he fights. In the Ministry, through a broken nose, caring for Hermione, he fights. In the invasion of the Death Eaters, he fights. When Hogwarts is overtaken by Voldemort Inc., he fights and he fights and he fights, until he is running the resistance within the walls of the castle.
Neville Longbottom is the one who tells Lord Voldemort to his face that he’ll join him when hell freezes over. That charges the most terrible Dark wizard of all time with the cry “Dumbledore’s Army!” That pulls Gryffindor’s sword from the Sorting Hat when it has been set on fire on his own head. That kills Nagini, the last Horcrux, the last thing standing between Voldemort and death.
I love other characters, and I admire them so much. But no one, I repeat no one, tops Neville Longbottom for sheer badassery.
Here’s to you, Neville.
