As usual, this takes place during or after the fifth book. And insert disclaimer here .
Somewhere underneath it all they still love me. That's what the gum wrappers are—their memories of loving me trying to break free. That's what I tell myself, anyway.
I have an entire wall papered with them. The wrappers, I mean. Gran tells me to throw them away, but I think she secretly understands, because she doesn't take them off the walls. The other day I caught her standing in my room staring at them and crying. She started to walk out like nothing had happened, but she changed her mind and wrapped her arms around me, and we both cried for awhile. I think I like Gran a lot more now. She's still a little scary, but she's scary because she's trying to protect me.
I need protecting. I'm a duffer. I still haven't figured out why I'm in Gryffindor instead of Hufflepuff. The sorting hat's insane, I think. Dumbledore told me about the prophecy, you know. He told me that I could have been the Boy Who Lived instead of Harry Potter.
I'm glad I'm not. I've always felt sorry for Harry. He lost his parents, and then when he first got to school everyone stared at him constantly. And then people started trying to kill him. If I were him, I'd be dead.
Sometimes I think I am dead. I'm the ignored one. No one ever notices me unless I'm doing something stupid or clumsy. Lots of people claim that, but for me it's really true. Except for Gran, nobody notices me unless I've lost Trevor, or melted my cauldron, or transfigured Seamus Finnegan's nose into a lavender grapefruit. I swear that only happened once, though. And McGonagall said I wasn't the first person to make that mistake while learning vanishing spells. It's really weird, though, after that happened Snape was even nastier to me than usual for a whole week, and Sinistra gave 100 points to Gryffindor because I could point out the moon…
But yeah, that's me. Neville Longbottom, The Boy Who Lost His Toad.
It's warm in the common room tonight. Everyone's sitting around talking happily. We just won a quidditch match. And by 'we' I mean Gryffindor. It's not like I had anything to do with the win. Merlin, can you imagine me on a broom? I can't even climb stairs without injuring myself.
I wonder if there's a potion that cures clumsiness. That'd be great. I'd go from being clumsy, socially inept Neville Longbottom to… well… graceful, socially inept Neville Longbottom. Maybe a gracefulness potion isn't such a good idea.
It's not as if I could brew it in the first place.
I should finish my homework. I got all the difficult stuff done with Hermione's help. Now it's just Herbology. Professor Sprout says I might have a real future in Herbology! I don't know why, but everything I plant seems to grow. It's always been that way for me. Gran says Mum was like that before… Yeah… anyway… homework.
Eh, not one of my best. Kinda rambles a bit too much. But I can't really see Neville being as intense as some of the others. So… eh. Review. Gimme ideas on who else to do. I was working on a Lupin one, but… I can't get it quite right. However, tune in next time for Gloom, Doom, and Sherbert Lemons!