A/N: I hope every one enjoys this story!


When the letter came, he had just turned eleven and it was the first contact from Hogwarts that he'd ever had. His grandmother had been ecstatic. Neville had shown virtually no signs of having the ability to perform magic growing up, no odd events happening around him or anything like that, and they'd begun to think that he was a Squib. Then, without any warning, he had more magic than his Grammy had ever had when she was his age.

So he went to Hogwarts and he was sorted into Gryffindor. That had been the first problem. If it had been any other house, maybe Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, than he doubted things would have panned out the way they did. But he wasn't sorted out into one of the other houses, he was sorted into Gryffindor. And at the time, he thought it was the coolest thing that could have happened to him. After all, that was the house that his mother and father had been in.

And, for the first few days, everything went good for him. Sure, he was absolutely abysmal at Potions but that didn't mean he was bad at all of his classes. In fact, he was one of the best in his Charms class. He wasthe best at Herbology, even beating out the Ravenclaw students when it came to the study of magical plants.

But then everyone started to focus on Harry Potter. Not because he was especially good at any of the classes, the only thing he was really good at was Quidditch, but because he was suppossed to have beaten Voldemort. Even though it wasn't the black-haired boy that beat the Dark Lord but his parents. His mother really. The fact that both of Neville's parents were confined to Saint Mungos, never able to leave the magical hospital, because of their contributation to defeating Voldemort didn't matter to anyone.

And Neville kept quiet.

Then it was Hermione and Ron getting praised. And, sure, Hermione was smart but that wasn't any reason for her to get the attention of the teachers that she had. Even if she didn't know she had it; Neville only knew because he'd overheard Flitwick and Sinistra talking about her. And Ron, well, he wasn't even going to get started on Ron. The only reason that the two were getting that special attention was because they were close friends with Harry.

They weren't any better than Neville was. He was just as good at magic, at studying and casting the spells, as they were. In some things, he was better. But after that first year, when he got points for letting the trio past him, Neville got no attention.

And he let himself fade into the background.

While Hermione and Ron and Draco and Harry were all off sticking their noses where they didn't belong, digging into a bunch of things that should have just stayed buried, making names for themselves...Neville was quite content to just keep his head down and study like a student at Hogwart's should. At least he was in the beginning.

As the years passed by, he couldn't help but be a little resentful towards the trio. Towards the rest of the student body. Towards the teachers. He was a great wizard! Just as good as those three were! So why shouldn't he get a little bit of attention? A little bit of recognition? He deserved it.

And now he'd found a way to shine. Even if it was just for a little bit.

Sure, he probably wouldn't make it out. They'd probably kill him where he stood, not even take time for a second thought about it, but Neville was sure that he'd be able to at least take a few of them out. And then the rest of the wizarding world, the Order and the other people of Gryffindor and the teachers, they would all see that he was worth paying attention to.

Shaking his head slightly, Neville pushed himself away from the trains window. Just as he did, the door to his compartment was flung open revealing the willowing robes of death Eaters. Death Eaters searching for Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Standing up, one hand sliding into the back pocket of his robes, Neville let a brave smile cross his face. This was it. This was his chance to be known, to be more than just that kid standing in the background, to be a hero.

"Hey, losers. They're not here."