A/N: Sorry for the hiccups. I found that there might be more the Neville's growth, and was in too much of a hurry to post this. I believe that this is OK now.

Chapter 2

Neville's blood simultaneously froze and burned. How could he possibly not screw this up?

He managed to correct a stumble before it started, and kept looking across the train platform for his Gran.

Vulture hat. There she is.

He was distracted on the trip home, and didn't offer any conversation; as this was typical of all their travel, he hoped that Gran wouldn't see how he was trembling inside.

Possibly outside, too.

But Gran wasn't actually dead, so she confronted him after supper.

"Young Neville, you seemed very distracted as you left the train this afternoon. May I inquire as to your distress?"

Gran was a stickler for manners and protocol. What the gently phrased (but stern sounding) words meant was, "Tell me why you're upset." There was no possibility of refusing her.

He tried to find a way to phrase it so that he could conceal what had happened – but he knew that wouldn't work, so he tried to downplay it instead. "I was confronted while I was daydreaming, and I … went a bit over the top in my reactions. I'm afraid that I may have offended some significant members of society." He ducked his head a bit.

"Whom?" Gran's tone didn't waver or show any concern.

"My encounter was with … Draco Malfoy."

Gran waved it off. "Jumped-up upstarts from the Continent. Money is never an adequate substitute for class, and they are continually bent on proving it." Pause. "What worries you?"

Neville gulped. "I, um, might have … threatened his life, family, and fortune," he whispered.

Gran's ears hadn't failed in the 90 seconds they had been conversing, either.

"Then we shall need to make good on your words," she casually stated.

Huh?

Neville shook his head and then repeated it out loud.

"Neville, you are focusing on your identity. You believe that you are Neville Eluf Longbottom, near squib. But there are two things you must know about identities."

Gran was speaking more informally than he had ever witnessed; this must be important. He resolved not to miss an eyeblink. Hesitantly, he said, "Yes?"

"First, your identity is easy to change."

Immediately, Neville blurted out, "I will always be a Longbottom!"

"Of course," came the unhurried reply. "But the rest of your identity can change as easily as you draw breath. Which leads into the second crucial fact."

Slowly, Neville revealed his bafflement by drawling, "Yes?"

"Your identity means nothing. The only thing that matters is what you do." She turned to Neville and he felt speared by her line of sight – right through the middle of his forehead. "You have declared yourself, and you will redeem your words through your actions. You will act with power, and you will act decisively."

Completely astonishing Neville, she reached out and cupped his chin in her hand. "I may have done you a disservice, because my early plan for you did not come to pass. But you have taken my error, and used it to discipline your mind and your body and your magic." She paused, and Neville could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

Her next words plunged into his heart, where he knew they would stay forever. "You are more than I hoped you would be, to be The Longbottom. Never kneel, for you are more worthy than them all."

She dropped her hand, and then said, "So tell me precisely what you said, and how he responded. We will plan your next words and deeds. You will not be made ashamed."

It was astonishing how that calmed Neville. Sheepishly, he recounted how his daydream of walking with power became mixed with Malfoy's taunting.

Gran looked off into the distance for a long while. She shook her head to clear it, and then mused, "Your father, fierce though he was, was a pale shadow of my husband, your Gramps. My husband, for who you are named, was a true throwback to our Viking forebears."

A long pause. "We thought."

She eventually went on, while Neville's head was spinning, "It is you who truly bears the fire of your line, and you will learn to forge that fire so that it is your will that reigns supreme. If you so choose."

Neville barley understood, but knew there was only one choice. "Yes, Gran!"

She shook her head. "This summer, you will come to hate me, Neville. But you will learn to act as you have spoken – you will sow the Malfoy grounds with salt, and their name will be a broken crypt to testify that you have plundered their past as well as destroyed their future."

There was a small smile on her face. "Sleep well tonight, for it will be last night you will receive until you reveal yourself as The Longbottom, the one who cannot be stopped, that cannot be broken."

The smile shocked him more than the words, but he did as he was told. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought, That fire might have more than the Longbottom name in it.