Becoming Himself

Alright, this is the first story I've written since December. Originally it was supposed to be about something else but Neville sort of took over so he could say his piece, thus there will be another one-shot coming out that will be the one I meant this to be.

Reviews welcomed, Flames as well (they make me laugh).

Disclaimer: I do not own Neville Longbottom, his grandmother, or any other recognizable characters mentioned herein. J.K. Rowling did not endorse this story and the opinions expressed below do not represent the opinions of J.K. Rowling.

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"Be more like your parents," That's what Gran always said. For as long as he could remember he was told to be more like the two people who brought him into the world. Of course Gran was the only one who would say it aloud but it was obvious that everyone else in the family was thinking it.

EspeciallyGreat-Uncle Algie. He was always eager to share the story of how Neville's father had drooled floating bubbles at the age of two. This was usually followed by a glance at Neville, as if expecting him to have been so inspired by the story of his father's magical prowess that he turned the teapot into a turnip, or something equally ridiculous.

Yes, while Gran was verbal about her disappointment in Neville's failure to exhibit magical tendencies or behavior similar to his father, Great-Uncle Algie preferred a more…hands-on approach.

He would never forget the day Great-Uncle Algie had driven up in what he called a 'Cadillac' and announced that he and Enid would be taking Neville on an excursion to a nearby town.

"Hold on a tick!" Great-Uncle Algie had said as Great-Aunt Enid went to enter the line for tickets to ride the nearby Ferris wheel. "I think Neville needs something to tide him over till lunch!"

"Oh! No thank you, I'm quite-" Neville had began, putting up his hands. He wasn't hungry and besides, eating right before going on a ride would surely make him throw up, which would probably dirty his clothing, which would lead to Gran scolding him.

"Nonsense! Come along Nev, my boy. There's a stand over there, farther down the pier." Great-Uncle Algie had said with a broad smile, rubbing his hands together.

"Erm, alright…" Said Neville nervously. Great-Uncle Algie pushed Neville in front of him, steering him in the direction of the fish and chips stand.

"Are you sure you saw a stand?" Asked Neville. They were approaching the edge of the pier and as far as Neville could tell, the only things there were a couple staring lovingly into each others eyes and a clown selling balloons to excited children whose parents were reluctantly fishing money out of their wallets.

"Of course I'm sure. Would I lie to you?" Great-Uncle Algie said dismissively. Neville gulped, as the answer to that question was 'yes'. "Just a little bit further…" His Great-Uncle said. "Oh! And would you look at that!" He said suddenly, moving up to stand next to Neville with an arm around his shoulders. He pointed at something in the water that Neville was unable to see.

"What is it?" he asked curiously, wondering how one could see anything in such dirty water.

"Come closer, it's right there." His Great-Uncle coaxed, Neville did as he was told and edged upwards to the edge of the pier, bending over slightly to peer into the water.

So intent was he on trying to see what was down there, he didn't notice his Great-Uncle pull out his wand and mutter the words "Repello Muggletum,"

At once the romantic couple blinked distractedly and then smiled at each other tenderly. The man wrapped an arm around the woman's waist and they strolled off down the pier. The clown jerked his head slightly and then released all the balloons into the air to the great disappointment of the children and relief of the parents. The clown strode off with the children and parent's trailing back up the pier.

Great-Uncle Algie moved up behind Neville and placed a hand on his back. Neville sighed and moved his head to look up at his Great-Uncle.

"I don't see it." He said. His Great-Uncle shook his head.

"Keep Looking, I know I saw something." He paused, then "Look! There it goes! Quick, look Neville!" he said excitedly pointing at something in the water.

Neville leaned forward even more, trying to see beyond the murky surface.

"You're not going to like this, but it's for your own good, and I'm sure you'll thank me for it one day." His Great-Uncle said quietly. Neville furrowed his brow.

"What are you-" with a strong shove Great-Uncle Algie sent Neville toppling down and into the water surrounding Blackpool Pier.

It was cold, freezing really, though he didn't feel it until the shock wore off. His first thought was

'What just happened?' his second thought was 'Why did Uncle Algie* do that?!' his third was 'Gran wont be pleased that I got my clothes wet." And his fourth was, "I'm going to drown!"

Even years later, after many events had taken place, Neville was hard-pressed to remember anything more terrifying then that experience, the exception being when he ventured into the hall of prophecy at the Ministry and during the final battle.

He flailed his arms wildly, the water making his movements much slower then usual. Out of instinct he had closed his eyes when he began to fall into the water and he opened them now. The salty water stung them and he was sure that tears would have formed had he been above water. It was cloudy that day, so there was no sun to illuminate the water. All he could see was a murky dark green color as he sank like a stone. He shouldn't have been sinking that fast, should he? He'd never been swimming before, so he wouldn't know.

He wondered idly how ironic it would be if the one magical tendency that he showed was that he could sink like a stone.

He was lucky that he had gasped when he felt Great-Uncle Algie push him, if he hadn't then he would've run out of air by now. As it was, his supply was dwindling. He needed to find the surface. The trouble was, he had tumbled around when he hit the water and now hadn't the faintest idea which way was up.

He twisted his body around, kicking his legs like he'd seen swimmers do in an article in the prophet about the dangers of Kelpies. It brought him closer to the surface, or at least, what he thought was the surface as the water was lighter in color in that direction. He couldn't be sure as the combination of sea salt stinging his eyes and the darkness of the water rather limited his vision.

His lungs were starting to burn as his oxygen supply turned into carbon dioxide, and the burning grew worse and worse until, finally, something seized hold of the back of his jumper and heaved him upwards.

He broke the surface with a gasp and went limp as he was carried towards the dock by someone who held him tightly around the waist, and was telling him,

"It's alright, I've got you now."

Hands reached down from the edge of the pier and pulled him and the person up onto the dock.

"Neville!" Great-Aunt Enid shrieked and swooped down on him, pulling him into a tight hug and kissing the top of his head. "I thought we'd lost you! But you're safe now. Oh you must have been terrified! I heard someone scream that a boy had fallen into the water and I just knew it was you! I just knew it!" she pulled away to look at him, brushing wet hair from his eyes. "Oh you must be freezing, that water isn't exactly warm is it? Algie said you fell in when you leaned over to look at a fish…you mustn't do that again!"

Neville closed his eyes, completely exhausted from his brush with death and wondered whether he would ever be able to trust Uncle Algie again.

Probably not, he decided, and then promptly fainted.

Great-Uncle Algie denied any involvement in Neville's near drowning, and Neville began to wonder if he was mistaken and he's actually fallen in on his own accord. But then there was the other incident…

Neville was 8 years old and still showed no sign of magical abilities. The whole family had begun to fear that he was a squib. He'd been afraid as well, knowing how disappointed everyone would be in him should he prove to be less then the wizard his father was, let alone a squib.

It was a warm day in late spring and Great-Uncle Algie, Great-Aunt Edna, his Aunt Susan and Uncle Bartholomew had come over for tea. Gram had recently gotten new drapes for an upstairs window and Great-Uncle Algie expressed great interest in seeing them. The fact that Great-Uncle Algie even thought about the new drapes should have made Neville suspicious, but it didn't.

"Upstairs, you say Augusta?" asked Great-Uncle Algie in a peculiar voice. His brown eyes had a rather mischievous glint in them as he glanced in Neville's direction.

Gran sipped her tea before setting the expensive heirloom teacup down onto a matching dish.

"Yes, isn't that what I said? I've been debating about getting rid of the old ones for years but I could never quite decide what to replace them with. But then, when I was in Diag-"

"Yes, yes, that's very interesting and I'm sure Edna and Susan would love to hear all about it, wouldn't you two? I know Edna's been thinking of redecorating the living room for quite some time now." Said Algie**, who was doing a very poor job of pretending to care about the drapes.

Enid looked at Algie in surprise

"I thought you said it was a waste of mo-" She began but Algie waved a hand.

"Well, I've been thinking about it and…you're right, the living room could use some…erm, re-decorating." He said quickly. Enid smiled brightly and touched her husband's arm lightly.

"I knew you'd come around eventually, which is why I already starting looking at different patterns for wallpaper!" she said happily. Algie nodded absently and pushed his chair back, making scraping sound as it slid across the floor. Gran winced.

"Sorry about that. Hold on a tick Augusta…" He said sheepishly and pulled out his wand to fix the mark made by the chair. There was a flash of orange light and Algie put his wand away and stood up. "I should probably go see those drapes. It might give me some ideas on sprucing up our living room." Enid moved to stand up but Algie quickly said, "Augusta, why don't you tell Enid where she can find some good…whatever it is that redecorating requires. Neville here can show me the drapes." He cast a blinding smile at Neville who gulped and quickly drank some more tea.

"I'll go as well, Sarah and I are turning the spare bedroom into a nursery for the baby. Drapes will be excellent for keeping the sun out while the baby is napping." Bartholomew said, sliding his chair back without marking the floor. Sarah smiled glowingly as she always did when the baby was mentioned and set her teacup down on the table, leaning forward eagerly.

"Augusta, I was actually thinking about the wallpaper you used for Neville when he was a baby. I always thought it was lovely." Gran beamed like any woman does when her personal decorating skills are complimented.

"Yes, it was rather lovely, though Alice picked it out. When Neville came to live with me I simply moved it from their house to mine." Neville was momentarily distracted from his anxiety about being almost alone with his Uncle Algie (he still had suspicions about him) by the soft look that appeared on Gran's normally stern face. It disappeared quickly and she was all business again, telling Sarah where she could find similar wallpaper.

As the three women jumped into a rather interesting conversation about decorating methods, Bartholomew pulled Neville out of his seat and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Let's let the womenfolk converse while you, Algie and I get out of their hair for a bit, eh?" He said jovially.

"Erm…" said Neville, distracted by Enid giving a description of what sounded like a beautiful coffee table. To tell the truth, Neville wouldn't have minded in the least staying at the table and listening to their conversation, but Algie had already begun to walk toward the door leading out of the drawing room and into the hall. He turned and waved for them to hurry up. Neville hung back, looking longingly at his still warm cup of tea, but Bartholomew clapped him on both shoulders and, like Algie had done last year at the pier, began to steer him in the direction Algie had gone.

"I could be wrong, but is Sarah planning on making meringue later?" Algie asked as they climbed the old servants staircase to the next floor. Bartholomew nodded.

"I'm glad, her meringue is almost as good as the ones they served at Hogwarts during the feasts," said Algie smiling nostalgically.

Neville increased his pace, leaving his Uncles to catch up.

True, Aunt Sarah did make delicious meringue, but was it as good as the ones at Hogwarts? He, Neville, wouldn't know. After all, he'd never been and, if he didn't start showing magic soon, he probably never would. His heart gave a painful thump at that thought. If he was a squib, he would never go to Hogwarts. He would never get a wand or be sorted into Gryffindor like his parents were. He'd never be a prefect like his father, or chaser for his house quidditch team like his mother. Worst of all, he would never be an auror, like both of his parents.

He swallowed the lump that had made its home in his throat. All of his short life he'd known he would one day be an auror. Everyone said he would, everyone expected he would. He couldn't even think of a single alternative to being an auror. But if he didn't go to Hogwarts…what would Gran think? What was he supposed to do with his life if that happened? Could he even consider it a 'life'?

Everyone knew what happened to Squibs, how the majority of them were treated. The word was considered an insult, 'Last one to the tree is a squib!' was the most common way to goad someone into a footrace. He didn't want that.

It wasn't the first time that Neville wondered what was wrong with him, and it wouldn't be the last either. His parents had been very talented wizards, so what on earth had happened to him?

He leaned his head against the cold glass of an upstairs window, having reached his destination while engrossed in his thoughts. It was snowing, and little snowflakes were attaching themselves to the glass, close enough to his eyes that he could make out the individual designs of each one.

It's funny, he mused, they all look like simple little white flakes at first, but when you get close enough you can see how beautiful and complex each one is. He frowned. There was probably an epiphany of some sort staring him right in the face, but he honestly didn't care enough to figure it out.

"Now how about that? It's snowing," Algie said, moving to stand next to Neville at the window with his arms folded. Neville blinked in response and pulled his head away from the window. He gestured at the massive fabric hanging around the window.

"These are the drapes," He said dully.

"Yeah, what about them?" said Algie, still looking out the window. Neville looked at him.

"Aren't the drapes what you wanted to see? You…asked about them…?" he said slowly. Algie blinked, his mind comprehending the statement. Then his eyes widened.

"Oh yeah…yes, the drapes, they're wonderful. Very nice…er…texture?" he said stumbling. "Hey, you know what? Why don't we open the window and catch some snowflakes!" He said quickly, changing the subject. Neville jumped as he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders.

"Sounds good, eh Neville?" Bartholomew said. It didn't sound good at all to Neville, but he stayed quiet as Algie opened the window and stuck a hand out. When he pulled it back in he held a pile of snowflakes in his hand.

"Now you try, put your hand out there," Algie said. Neville shrugged.

"I'd rather not…" he began.

"Oh come on, just once?" Algie prodded. Neville sighed and stuck his hand out the window, looking at Algie with eyebrows raised. Bartholomew sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Not like that Nev, you won't catch any snowflakes with your hand only halfway out the window!" He grasped Neville's wrist, "Let me help," He said.

"What are you do-" Neville cried out as Bartholomew jerked his arm harshly, pulling Neville halfway out the window.

"Now! Grab his legs!" Bartholomew shouted. Someone seized Neville's ankles, probably Uncle Algie, and shoved him out the window and onto the slanted roof.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Neville shrieked, flailing his arms much like he had when he'd almost drowned.

"Stop struggling, you'll hurt yourself!" Algie shouted, leaning out the window to look down at his great-nephew as he held Neville's skinny ankles. Bartholomew leaned out the window as well.

"Algie, you have everything under control?" he asked, as if his nephew wasn't being dangled three stories above the ground. Algie nodded.

"Yeah, I've got it. Now we just have to wait." He said.

They were crazy, the whole lot of them. Neville blinked back tears of frustration and fear. It'd been two hours, and he was getting cold. The roof above him kept the snow from getting to him, but it didn't keep the cold out. He didn't know what Uncle Algie was expecting to happen, or how long he would have to be 'hanging around' until Uncle Algie accepted that nothing was going to happen.

"Algie, dear? Would you like some Meringue?" Aunt Edna's voice drifted out of the window. Neville's stomach growled loudly and he sighed, completely miserable. At least at Blackpool Pier he'd only been in the water for a minute or so.

"I'd love some!" said Algie excitedly. What happened next would change Neville's life forever.

To Neville, it happened in slow motion. He felt Uncle Algie let go of his ankles as he turned to accept the Meringue. He heard Aunt Edna's scream and Uncle Algie's swearing loudly as he dove forward to try and catch him. He felt himself fall forward, sliding off the roof and then falling downwards, as the ground rushed up to meet him.

He supposed, in those few seconds before impact, that his life should currently be flashing before his very eyes. But the only thing he could see was the snow-covered ground getting closer and closer. He guessed that there wasn't anything worth replaying from his short life, though he wouldn't have minded seeing a replay of the quidditch match he'd gone to last month. Holyhead Harpies versus Puddlemore United, it had been quite thrilling.

He had enough time to take one last breath and close his eyes as he waited to die.

He hit the ground and, rather then blinding pain and snapping bones, something strange happened. There was a sound like an inflatable ball rebounding off a surface, and he flew up into the air again.

It was extraordinary, he felt completely weightless and suddenly he knew why people loved flying brooms so much. He started to fall again, and it was like the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Horrified, he tried to make himself turn so he wouldn't land on his head, but he then flipped rapidly and hit the ground headfirst.

And bounced again, he flipped around and hit the ground only to bounce again and again. He laughed loudly, he had no idea what was going on but it was fun, and he didn't have fun very often.

He had cleared the patio and was now bouncing along the yard. With each bounce he moved closer and closer to the ground as he lost momentum.

It had to end at some point, he knew that, and as grateful as he was to finally be stationary, he was a little sad that the bouncing was over.

"NEVILLE! MERLIN! DID YOU SEE THAT?!" Uncle Bartholomew was shouting as he and Uncle Algie raced towards him. His Gran and Great-Aunt Edna were following close behind with Aunt Sarah moving more carefully, mindful of the baby.

"He's done it! Neville, my boy! You've done it!" Uncle Algie grabbed him around the waist and spun him around.

"Neville that was amazing!" Bartholomew shouted as he tackled the both of them, knocking them over into the snow.

"I knew it! I knew it! You're my grand-son after all, and Frank's son. It's in your blood!" His Gran was shouting, tears rolling down her face as she smiled wider then Neville had ever seen her smile before.

"Brilliant Neville, You were wonderful!" Aunt Sarah exclaimed, standing over the pile that was Neville, Uncle Algie, and Uncle Bartholomew.

"I was so frightened at first, I thought you were a goner for sure but then…then you bounced! I'm so proud of you!" Aunt Edna was crying also, wringing her hands and smiling.

Neville twisted so he could pop his up out from under Uncle Algie's chest. Why was everyone so excited, so happy? He'd nearly died for goodness sake, sure he hadn't but really, laughter wasn't an appropriate response.

"Just like your father, he did fantastic bouts of uncontrolled magic before he went to Hogwarts as well." Uncle Algie said, ruffling Neville's hair.

Time stopped.

Everything stopped.

Except for Neville. He stared at the smiling, happy faces surrounding him. He watched their mouths move as they spoke but he couldn't hear anything that was being said. All he could hear were Uncle Algie's words repeating themselves over and over again in his head.

"Just like your father,"

Neville was beginning to understand now. He…the bouncing…he was alive not because of luck but because…he was a wizard! He was a wizard! He'd done magic. He, Neville Longbottom, age 8, had done magic!

He flopped back into the snow and closed his eyes, laughing loudly. He was hungry, bruised, freezing cold, and his clothing was absolutely soaked from snow but he didn't care. None of that mattered; the only important thing was that he was a wizard!

That was the memory that he thought of whenever life felt hopeless, and it always gave him the will to hold out a little longer. It was the memory he used every time he produced a patronus. That was the moment he went from being Neville the possible squib to Neville, future Hogwarts student and son of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

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* Neville refers to Great-Uncle Algie as Uncle Algie here for a very obvious reason. The name 'Great-Uncle Algie is a hassle to say as well as a hassle to think it. Neville is currently drowning at this point and he doesn't have time to add 'Great' to the name. Plus I refer to my Great-Aunts and Great-Uncle as simply 'Aunt Gloria,' 'Aunt Doris,' and 'Uncle Razz', so I'm assuming that Neville does as well.

** I got very sick of wring 'Great-Uncle' and 'Great-Aunt'. So no, there is no reason to the sudden change to an informal name.