The Other Boy Who Lived
He stared at his feet awkwardly.
There wasn't much else to do.
Harry Potter had tried to save the world again and this time he paid for it with his life.
Dumbledore had been so fond of Harry that he hadn't stopped to tell the Other Boy Who Lived that he had escaped death narrowly in his early youth because Harry had laid the Lord Voldemort low.
Now that Harry was gone Neville needed to know.
His head in his hands, tears trickling down his face, he felt useless.
Dumbledore had been trying to calmly explain to Neville what all of this meant, but the boy had heard only the muttering ramblings of an old man who had lost his favorite student.
Neville had been marked in that last attack.
He had tried desperately to save Harry, the Boy Who Lived being unconscious at the hems of the Dark Lord's robes. He had attempted to sling himself over Harry's body, taking the shock of that last death spell aimed so clearly at the other boy's heart.
Neville's courage had finally shown itself, his right to be in Gryffindor proven; his selfless sacrifice proof of his absolute martyrdom.
The spell glanced off of him, hitting Harry and zapping the boy's powers. Had he been immortally driven he might have survived as the Lord Voldemort once did. It was a very similar effect, yet Neville didn't need someone to die to protect him. His own desire to protect Harry had been the deflector and by trying to save his friend's life he had ensured his death.
Neville scratched the spot on his forearm where the spell had hit him. A scar, burning vivid and red rested there in the shape of a crescent moon. In killing Harry, Lord Voldemort had altered the prophecy once again. He had marked both boys that were fit to kill him, the only boys that could bring him down.
It was no small victory killing one, but now he had marked the other as his equal.
Neville was wearing the cloak Harry had once worn and he wasn't certain if he could handle it.
He looked up at Dumbledore, still rambling on about the prophecy and Neville's role in saving the wizarding world. The boy wiped his face clean of salt tracks, pushing the moisture of his emotions away from his thoughts. He closed his eyes quietly, took a very deep breath and stood.
"Professor Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore was silenced immediately, intrigued by Neville's actions. "Yes Neville?"
"I have a lot to think about. May I be excused?"
"Of course." Dumbledore said with a slight nod.
The boy looked at him for a long moment, debating whether or not to air his doubts, his fears, and his desire to run away. He looked at his feet again, something he did when he was nervous. He turned slowly away from Dumbledore and the circular office. He braved a lopsided smile; unhappy, but unwilling to show any of his friends that the fear had set in on him.
Neville had convictions. Neville had courage. That he knew. Now he had to prove that he was willing to use both of them. He was going to avenge Harry one day, for his own peace of mind and for the memory of a boy who had tried so hard to live.