Disclaimer: Characters belong to the lovely JK Rowling, I just borrow them from time to time. I make no profit from this story.
Neville Longbottom was many things. Clumsy, forgetful, shy, untalented... the list could go on. Everyone in his family knew he could never measure up to the memory of his parents. Frank and Alice Longbottom were well-known Aurors and were loved by so many people. But Neville? He was nothing like them and he knew it. And while he knew his family cared for him, his Gran was not a kind woman. And his great aunt Enid and uncle Algie... he knew they were all disappointed in his lack of magic. They said he was likely a squib since he'd yet to show any magic whatsoever. And that word alone was enough to break what little bit of self-confidence he had. He tried telling his Gran about some of the magical things he was certain he'd done, but she just waved a hand and dismissed it. So he stopped trying to tell her about the curtains in his room opening themselves or the light turning itself off at night. Perhaps it wasn't magic he was doing after all.
When he was seven, his family took to trying to force a bit of magic out of him. He wound up injured more often than not, and not a single spark of magic came out. He was changing his soaking wet clothes in his room, his head down. Once dressed, he looked at the mirror on the wall, tears in his eyes. He wondered briefly if other young squibs had to endure the tests he was constantly put through. He'd nearly drowned when his uncle pushed him off of the pier. He just wished they'd quit and accept it. He was just never going to live up to his parents' legacy. A single tear fell, and he brushed it away, sitting down on his bed. A house-elf popped in to take his wet clothes, and he let her do so, not saying a word.
"Neville, get back down here!" his grandmother's voice called. "We must be going."
With a sigh, Neville stood up. He wiped his tears away. They were going to visit his parents at the hospital. He didn't want them to see his tears. He was convinced that they would still wake up. His mum had taken to giving him bubble gum wrappers lately. So that must be a good sign!
"Coming, Gran." He took hold of her hand before stepping with her through the floo.
Neville shrieked. His uncle had surprised him again. He'd brought him to the window to show him something, and the next thing Neville knew, he was dangling by his ankle out the window. "Please!" he cried out. "Help me!"
"Come on, Neville!" his uncle said happily. "Pull yourself back in! Use that magic! Come on now, boy. Your father could've done it!"
Neville tried to reach the window ledge, but he couldn't quite do it. "I can't! Help me!"
"Not a chance, boy," his uncle replied. "Come on, I'm waiting! Do us proud!"
Neville struggled to reach the window. He knew by now that he had no chance of doing it magically, his family was right about him. He just wished they'd stop doing things like this to him. He'd accepted his lack of magic. Why couldn't they?
He wasn't expecting it, though, when his uncle started speaking to someone else in the room. He couldn't see who, though it could only be his Gran or his Aunt Enid. They never had other visitors, after all. And after a moment, Neville felt his uncle's hand release his ankle. He screamed as he fell from the window. Neville tried to brace himself as the ground got closer and closer. He squeezed his eyes shut as he hit the ground and... he bounced upward once again. Several times he bounced, each time not as high as the last. As he finally stopped moving, he lay there shaking. What had just happened? He should be in pain from the fall. But... he wasn't. He was just shaken up.
His grandmother came running down the path, tears running down her face and a proud smile on her face. His aunt and uncle were close behind her, also smiling.
"Oh, Neville!" she cried as he sat up, confused. Why was she so happy? She never used that look with him. "Neville, you wonderful boy! My grandson! A wizard! Thank Merlin!" She reached down, helping him to his feet and pulling him into a tight embrace. "Your parents would be so proud, Neville! So very proud!"
He felt his uncle and aunt embrace the two as well. And he felt so proud of himself. He had magic after all. Maybe... maybe someday he could live up to his parents' legacy after all. He still doubted it, of course, but... maybe he had a chance.
Neville stabbed at his eggs, pushing them around on his place. It was his eleventh birthday and today... Today was the day. Either the letter would come or it wouldn't. And that thought stopped him from being hungry at all. He felt sick. Was it supposed to come early in the day? Or would he have to wait until dinner? Or... would he go to sleep tonight knowing that he didn't have enough magic to make it into Hogwarts?
There was a tap on the window and Neville jumped to his feet. "Gran! The post is here!" he said excitedly.
"Probably the daily prophet," his grandmother replied. Neville's face fell instantly, and he dropped back into his chair and stopped pretending to eat, staring instead at his plate. Ever since the incident with Neville bouncing down the lawn, he'd hoped to be able to some other magic. But to no avail. And it was clear that his grandmother believed the same as he did: he wouldn't be accepted into Hogwarts. She rose and went to the window, letting the owl perch on the window sill as she pulled the newspaper from its grasp. "As expected," she said, paying the owl and heading back to the table. "The Bulgarian Quidditch team has gotten a new Seeker," she said offhandedly as she flipped through the paper, ignoring her grandson's gloomy face. "Doesn't look good for England this year."
A second owl swooped through the window, landing on Neville's shoulder. He stared at it as it offered him its leg. There was a scroll tied to its leg. Neville just stared at the scroll, too afraid to be excited.
"Take the letter, Neville!" his grandmother said sharply. "Don't just sit there staring!"
Neville jumped slightly and removed the scroll. The bird flew off instantly. He turned the scroll in his hands. Sure enough... the wax seal was the emblem of Hogwarts. His eyes flew to his grandmother, who was watching him as well.
"Open it, Neville," she said softly, her voice softer than he'd ever heard it.
His shaking fingers slid under the seal, breaking it. He unrolled it and started to read. "D-Dear Mr. L-Longbottom," he said in a shaking voice. "We are p-pleased to inform you that... that..." He grinned widely. "Gran, I got in! I got into Hogwarts!"
His grandmother smiled, reaching across for the parchment and read it herself. "So you did," she said, pride in her eyes. "So you did. Go upstairs and get dressed. Time for a trip to London."
Neville smiled at her. "We've got to go tell mum and dad the good news!" he said. He didn't tell her what he was thinking. That maybe this would be enough to make them remember him. Now that he'd proven himself worth remembering.
Her smile faded slightly, but she nodded regardless. "And you need your school supplies as well," she said. "We can go to St. Mungo's first if you wish to."
Neville nodded excitedly, rushing upstairs and getting dressed. As he crossed the living room, though, his grandmother called to him from the hallway. He followed her to the room he knew had belonged to his parents. He rarely came in here, not wanting to disturb anything.
"I have something for you, Neville," his grandmother said quietly, pulling a long, thin package from a drawer. "This was your father's. He... I'm sure he would be proud for you to carry it now."
Neville held the box carefully, not wanting to drop it or break it. She was giving him something of his father's. He opened it gently. Inside was a wand. He picked it up gently, holding it reverently. "Are you sure, Gran?" he whispered, staring at her with wide eyes. "Dad was a great wizard, and I..."
"You will be as well one day," his grandmother said. "I won't hear another word about it. Come along. Put your wand back in the box. I won't have you using it until you're taught how to do so. I won't have you breaking it." She took the box from him and led him out of the room, staring into the room another moment before closing it, locking it with her wand.
"Do you have mum's wand as well?" Neville asked softly.
"No," his grandmother answered immediately. "It was broken in the fight when Lestrange tried using it against her." Neville flinched, but his grandmother didn't seem to notice. "It was found in pieces in that woman's hand. Now come along, Neville. There is quite a bit to do today."
Neville clenched his hand around the bubble gum wrapper in his hand, tears in his eyes. He'd been so sure that once they heard about his letter, they'd remember him. At least for a second. He had wanted to hear them tell him they were proud of him. But it was no good. His father hadn't even looked at him. And his mother just smiled that same blank smile she always gave and pressed the wrapper into his hand.
"Come along, Neville," his grandmother said quietly, laying a hand on her grandson's shoulder. As Neville was telling his parents about the letter, his eyes lit up and a smile on his face, he knew she was watching him. He looked up and she turned away quickly. But he'd seen the tears in her eyes.
He used to tell himself that they would remember him one day. That once he proved himself, that they would come back to him and his Gran. But no. Today proved him wrong. They would never remember him. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. They were gone.