So I was reading one of those 'online opinion pieces' about the epilogue in Deathly Hallows Part II, and one of the pictures showed Neville in his cardigan at the Battle of Hogwarts with the Sword of Gryffindor. Well, that was all it took. Here's my question. What if the Sword kept track of everyone that ever wielded it?

A True Gryffindor

It was a quiet night. Neville Longbottom was crossing back into the Magical World at Diagon Alley with an armload of takeaway for a few others gathering at his home and a giant chocolate cake for his pregnant Hannah. She was in the latter stages of her pregnancy and bewailed the changes in her figure one moment and cooed at the babies she was still carrying. The mood swings was something Neville had gotten used to.

He'd also gotten used to watching what he said, after once commenting that they could hear everything she said. Hannah's eyes flashed a scary ice blue and had Neville not tripped over a footstool, he would have gotten away from what she was suddenly intent on doing. It didn't turn out well for him after that.

As it happened, the healer at St. Mungo's had to deal with a black eye, two broken ribs, and something Daphne Greengrass, soon to be Daphne Black-Potter, had taught her years ago that froze his wedding tackle from stem to stern. She had looked up at a tearful Hannah full of remorse, remembered that she was carrying twin daughters and leaned over to whisper in Neville's ear.

"Good luck in the coming years. Three females in the house means they won't be taking very kindly to any slips of the tongue like tonight's. Better start practicing now and Merlin help you if you have more daughters if you don't."

Neville had taken that advice very closely to heart, since he did want more children. He also wanted a son to carry on the Longbottom name, maybe more than one but if his mouth ran away with him that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

So tonight, he was being proactive in following the 'happy wife, happy life' motto and that usually involved either chocolate cake, strawberry cheesecake or that delicious blueberry vanilla crème pound cake he'd found at a little bakery in London. Hannah didn't currently have to worry about her figure, and if it kept her happy, it kept him happy.

He very carefully kept that thought completely to himself and never ever spoke it out loud, even to Harry. Harry would understand and keep his lips sealed, he was sure. What he wasn't sure of was if Hannah wouldn't be able to hear it somehow, no matter where he was and how far away she was.

Better to be safe than sorry, after all. He'd learned his painful lesson the first time.

As he wasn't a Head of House at Hogwarts, he was able to go home every night after his teaching duties had been completed for the day. The rebuilding after Albus Dumbledore's death included careful reorganization with extra staff and had made for interesting changes that really should have been done when he was going to school. Still, it was here now, and the international educational standings for Hogwarts had risen even higher in response to those changes.

Neville whistled to himself as he headed for the new public Floo station that had been built after the Leaky Cauldron had been rebuilt. It helped with the foot traffic a great deal and frankly, Neville preferred it. It seemed to work a lot quicker, in his opinion. Plus somehow it wasn't as messy to use.

A few steps away from the portal to the Muggle world, something happened. Neville was punched in the face by someone unknown, grabbed and hustled down into a dark alley. His hands were full, carrying the bags and a murmured spell in his ear wrapped the plastic of the bags around his hands and hardened them.

He shouted and was slugged again.

Neville could see at a glance that the alley was full of debris and stored stone columns that appeared to be just thrown around and negligently stacked. He managed to avoid a punch to the stomach. As he jumped back from it, he could see two other bodies hidden behind a pile of rubble. They looked freshly killed and completely ransacked. Both had been stripped and even with the quick glance Neville had, he could see that there were vicious wounds clearly visible.

I have a very bad feeling about this. The thought made his body tense up and he started fighting back. He kicked and swung the bags melded to his hands around as hard as he could. The weight of them wasn't as heavy as he'd like, but he took what he had available to him and used it.

A few hits preceded some growled imprecations upon his lineage, and he grinned to himself despite the situation. The levity didn't last long as he heard the swish of wands being drawn from pockets and sleeves. This was not good and he couldn't reach his own wand, much less use it!

The bags impeded the use of his hands. Somehow Neville had to get them off. In between ducking the spells that he could, he scraped the plastic against the walls in the hopes that the Duro spell he'd heard didn't cover the whole thing. The feeling of plastic starting to give way as the poorly-cast spell started to wear off raised his spirits. He fought harder in response.

"Reducto!"

Neville threw himself to the ground as the spell flew over his head and slammed into the wall. He hissed in pain and groaned as a small pointed chunk of masonry landed on his hip. Better that than getting hit with the spell, but if he'd had his druthers he would have rather been at home trying to get a piece of that chocolate cake.

There was an ominous sound of creaking coming from the wall beside him. Neville didn't waste time looking to see what it was. He rolled away from it as fast as he could. It was harder since his hands were both still bound and the bags impeded him.

This was intolerable.

There were laughs coming from the end of the alley, and another Reducto bounced around the corners of the alley to finish the job of shattering the masonry that Neville had heard the creaking coming from. There had been something being supported by it some way up, but he didn't bother taking the time to find out what it was as it fell to the ground and broke close to his head.

He was getting mad now and his magic was answering him. Neville struggled to his feet to face his attackers and his eyes narrowed. Three of them. He didn't see more of them, thankfully.

The presumed leader was unshaven and wore an eye-patch. The clothes that he wore was ragged and dark, and helped to hide him in the shadows that he had stepped out of. He looked like the kind of man whose picture decorated wanted posters at the DMLE.

The other two deferred to him in a way that Neville was sure was a subservient way, and both looked familiar to him. If he got out of here with his life, he'd try to remember where he knew them from but right now wasn't the time. The leader looked at him and noticed the wedding band on Neville's finger.

The man laughed. His voice was a bit cracked, but the intent was as clear as the bells at the castle.

"Oho! We got us a family man here, boys! I think since ransoms don't work so well in this day and age, we'll find out who the little woman is and mail him back home in pieces!"

There was raucous laughter from the pair behind him, and sounded for all the world like Draco Malfoy's old hangers-on in school. Neville knew both of them were dead and Draco had reformed himself to become a pretty good friend. The next words out of the main thug's mouth chilled him.

"And when we find out where to send the pieces, we'll have some fun with the grieving widow!"

Blind rage suffused him and he growled like his patronus bear. Magic hummed within him and the bags abruptly melted from binding his fingers to fall away from his hands. He clutched his wand as he heard "Diffindo!" called from the open end of the alley.

I want to get back to my girls and I need help, Neville thought in desperation as he ducked the first spell. It hit the wall behind him, shattering the stone archwork leaning there. A few pieces impacted his head, making him woozy. Another piece knocked the wand out of his hand and everyone could hear it snap when he stumbled over it.

"Well, that makes things a lot easier for us!" The ringleader gloated as he lined up his wand for another spell. "How about we soften him up a bit more before we kill him and take his money, boys? Practice makes perfect, after all!"

There was general agreement from unknown voices, and Neville pushed himself against the wall to steady himself. Blood ran into one of his eyes and he dashed it away just in time to see a couple of spells headed his way. The lessons from the days of Dumbledore's Army slammed back into his head, and he rolled out of the way.

"Oh, we got us some entertainment tonight!"

The voice was different, as was another.

At least three of them, and my wand's snapped. What am I going to use to get out of this?

He could feel his magic humming within him again and suddenly there was a familiar feeling in his right hand. It was something that he hadn't felt in years. A sudden intake of breath was clearly heard, and Neville wasn't sure if it had come from him or one or all of the others. He quickly glanced down at his hand, seeing the Sword of Gryffindor gleaming there.

He smiled.

The others shrunk back, seeing the mild-mannered Herbology Professor recede in deference to the Horcruxed Snake-Killer. Neville's eyes flashed, reflecting the sparkles of the gems in the pommel and the glistening of the shining blade. He spoke calmly, despite the pain in his body and the headache driving a spike through his skull.

"I think there's going to be entertainment tonight, yes, but not for you."

Spells peppered the air as he waded in. The Sword sang its song as it deflected a curse here, cleaved a jinx there, sliced a leg over there. Neville staggered a bit, still a good bit dizzy from the hits to his head, but the Sword lent him strength by some unknown magic as it whispered warnings and encouragements to him.

It was less than a minute as the basilisk-infused blade made short work of the other two. Neville couldn't completely dodge a sudden fusillade of diffindos that lacerated his skin, but he didn't drop the Sword.

The remaining two gave malign cheers to each other as they saw Neville stumble when the cutting curses hit, only to have them cut off. Literally in this case, as one final swing cut off the head of one and sliced down the front of the other in a precise diagonal from the man's left shoulder to right hip.

The thumps of the heavy bodies slumping to the ground strangely complemented the hollow melon-like sound of the head bouncing off the opposite wall. Neville grimaced at the skittering patter of the head rolling through the debris but concluded that it was better them than him.

"I need to get home. I need help," he moaned as the pain really started to hit. "I need Hannah."

The Sword started to whisper to him again. More encouragements, and he started to move slowly. He limped away, leaving behind a small trail of blood and a terrible scene. For some reason, he picked up the bags of ruined food and carried them with him as the Sword tsk'ed at him for doing it.

He was a husband getting things for his wife, and he was damned if he was going to forget it.

When he stumbled into the door, all bloody and still clutching the humming Sword there was a moment's silence. It was obvious that the cake was smashed, too, but the attention wasn't on it.

"NEVILLE!"

Hannah's hysterical scream of sudden worry was cut off as she swayed with widened eyes. If it hadn't been for Draco Malfoy catching her, she would have hit the floor hard. He looked down and his eyes widened. He spoke quickly.

"Explanations can wait."

Neville was looking for somewhere to put the Sword. His eyes were unfocused and Susan Bones jumped up to steady him from falling to the floor as he wavered. Harry carefully took the Sword from him and it sang a greeting and a satisfied song of its adventures to him as he touched it. His eyes widened as he looked at the Sword, then at Neville.

"What?" Neville managed to say. Draco answered him quickly.

"The babies are coming. We need to go – now!"

The Longbottom girls were born at 11:15 and 11:24. It was a matter of great curiosity to the Healers that both infants had glimmering birthmarks on their left legs that looked exactly like a sword with the tip pointing at their heels. By 11:32, Neville was in a bed next to his family being clucked over by a bevy of mediwitches seeing to his wounds and disapproving of his stubbornness on insisting at being at his wife's side for the births despite his many injuries.

Tomorrow would be here soon enough and after he saw to his family and then himself, he could figure out how help had arrived in the form of legendary Goblin steel. Maybe it was something he could ask his account manager at Gringotts tomorrow or maybe the next day.

He fell asleep to the thoughts of a flashing blade answering the call for help and the sounds of Hannah singing softly to her babies.

The End

End Note:

Always thought Neville deserved more heroics than slicing off a snake's head. This might not be on the scale of Harry's offing of Voldemort, but it's still heroic actions.