Neville looked at Hogwarts. Some parts, completely demolished: others, as pristine as they looked before. Seeing the wreckage of the castle broke Neville's heart. As Neville shook his head and continued clearing the outdoor grounds of the dead, he began to think back. He thought back to his very first year at Hogwarts, and how much had changed. How much he had changed.
His Gran was getting him ready. She was gathering last minute things the 11 year old boy had forgotten. She hustled the boy into the rented muggle car. Neville silently slipped into the back seat. Gran took the driver's seat and started off towards King's Cross Station. The older woman started her daily lecture, but this one was more important than most. He was heading off to Hogwarts. He was fulfilling his Gran's (and everyone else's) expectations for him. "He was going to make them proud," his family had said tentatively. He was terrified. The boy looked into his lap, and, to his surprise, was squeezing his toad much too tightly. He loosened his grip and sighed, his nightmares seeping into reality. He was going to make a terrible wizard. He was hardly even magical at all.
Neville wanted to be sorted into Hufflepuff. Nice, safe, Hufflepuff. Nobody would expect much from him if he was in Hufflepuff. What other house could he possibly be in? He wasn't clever, He wasn't cunning. He sure as anything wasn't brave. However, the Hat had not quite agreed. The Hat was adamant on Gryffindor: Neville on Hufflepuff. Eventually, the defeated boy slumped and let the Hat have his way. Only at the end of his first year, did Neville feel anything like a Gryffindor.
"It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends." Those words echoed in Neville's head. His first feeling of courage, and yet, even then, he was absolutely terrified. He was not terrified now. He was numb. He carried body after body after body. He carried them into the Great Hall to be laid out. It was so people could mourn their losses. So many to mourn. Where was he supposed to start? For a slight second, Neville let that terrified little boy slip back in for a second. Neville stood up, trying to shake the feeling of fear and sadness. He had to keep it together. This was not over. Voldemort was still breathing. Nothing was over yet.
Neville exited the hall again, and begin bending over another body, when he heard a voice say,
"Neville." He jumped a bit, then caught his breath.
"Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure!" Then seeing Harry was by himself, looking like a Dementor could have just suck his happiness right out of him, Neville asked,
"Where are you going, alone?"
"It's all part of the plan," he replied. "There's something I've got to do. Listen- Neville-" At this point Neville was shocked.
"Harry! Harry! You're not thinking of handing yourself over?" Harry tried giving a reassuring smile to Neville.
"No. 'Course not… This is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while. You know Voldemort's snake, Neville? He's got a huge snake… Calls it Nagini…'
"I've heard, yeah… What about it?"
"It's got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they-"Neville could tell Harry was having a rough time finishing. In fact, he was choking up too. Harry continued, "Just in case they're- busy- and you get the chance-"
"Kill the snake?" Neville knew where this was leading. He could feel what Harry was going to do.
"Kill the snake." Neville decided to make one last attempt at saving his friend. The friend who always believed in him.
"All right, Harry. You're okay, aren't you?"
"I'm fine. Thanks, Neville." Harry went to walk away, but Neville was not finished.
"We're all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?"
"Yeah, I-" Neville patted Harry on the shoulder and let the sentence trail off. Neville turned back toward the castle. And in that moment, Neville Longbottom felt as venerable as the 11 year old boy, sitting on the boats, sailing towards Hogwarts for the very first time.