AN: Written for round 9 of the Quidditch league fanfiction competition. Prompt: Hoops: Someone archiving their goal
Neville shivered as more screams rang out throughout the school.
It was the third day of his seventh year and he had never felt so miserable. Even being subject to six years of harassment via Slytherins had not prepared him for this.
He risked a subtle glance across the common room at Ginny, hoping no one was watching them too closely tonight. He knew she had been desperately trying to keep the lower years calm as possible. He also knew that she had not been having great amounts of success.
He glanced around at his fellow classmates and came to a decision. Neville took a deep breath as he stood up, if they wanted to accomplish anything he was going to have to listen to a hat.
The sorting hat had told him he was a Gryffindor; maybe, he thought as he returned to his dorm, it was time to act like one.
Becoming the Gryffindor he wanted to be was far easier said than done.
For Neville, who had never been one to be daring or outspoken, a hostile war zone was not the ideal place to start.
Neville tried to retain his low profile for as long as possible so that he wouldn't get called out on his rebellious behavior. He knew he would be no help to anyone if he got caught.
He started to speak up more in class and to walk down the hallways imagining that they weren't at war. He imagined that the professors were not death eaters and treated them as if they were simply a teacher he did not enjoy. By the end of September, the rest of the seventh years and many of the sixth years were following his lead. All of them attempting in their own small ways to demonstrate their resistance.
He felt their eyes on him throughout the day and felt a stab of guilt. He knew that this must have been how Harry had felt every year and he was disgusted that he had done the same. They were all the same age, what made everyone depend on one person?
Despite all the silent support Neville felt more like a fake than a Gryffindor.
He had not planned it the first time. He had seen the first year crying silently in the hallway and had pulled them into the room of requirements. He had healed them to the best of his abilities with what the room had provided and sent them on their way. When he got back to the common room Neville found Ginny and in hushed tones, told her what had happened.
"We could you know." She had said. "We could use that room and keep them safer."
Neville had mutely agreed even though he had no clue how they would succeed.
Soon enough however; they were succeeding. Most nights Neville found himself sneaking throughout the school with Ginny and Luna and for the first time understood what the hat meant.
Neville saw why Harry continued to save the school even though he hated his fame. It wasn't for the fame, it was for the small smiles from anyone they helped and the frustrated growls of the death eaters. It wasn't bravery for one's self but for everyone around them.
The year went on and Neville continued to do all he could to save his classmates. The professors would share sideways grins when they heard that he had outsmarted the death eaters once again, marvelling at the fact that he had become the silent leader of a silent revolution.
When Neville returned from detention with a new scar down his face and a hardened glint in his eyes they felt their hearts break at yet another student who had grown up far too soon.
By late April anyone who had dared to stand up against the death eater's regime was hidden way in the room of requirements.
Neville thanked fate that the room had lead them to Aberforth who had been both willing and able to help them, for without him, he knew that they would have been far worse off than they were.
Even hidden amongst the walls students turned to him looking for guidance and Neville hoped he could be the fearless Gryffindor they all thought him to be.
When Arianna came to the portrait and beckoned him to come the barely suppressed a sigh.
He did not have any energy left for more problems to arise.
When he pushed the portrait open he saw the red hair first and could not contain his grin. He felt a spark of hope blossom, if Harry was back, this war was almost over.
Neville felt his heart stop. He watched in horror as McGonagall screamed and nearly fell from shock.
He looked at Harry, laying still and took a deep breath.
He reminded himself that he was a Gryffindor, and took a step forward.
It would be hours later, long after the last spell had been uttered and the cries of family members and friends were beginning to quiet that Neville found himself alone with Harry.
"Dumbledore told me something about that sword," he said.
As Neville listened to Harry relay the words of the late headmaster he felt a sense of pride growing. If Harry's, or Dumbledore's as the case may be, words were to be believed then even magic itself thought him to be a Gryffindor, then maybe he had become what he set out to be.
AN: Thanks for reading