I know, the title sounds crazy, right? We're so used to Harry Potter defeating the Dark Lord, Harry Potter getting all of the attention, Harry Potter saving everyone. He's more famous than dorky Neville Longbottom, and the series is called "Harry Potter," not "Neville Longbottom." I myself am not a Harry-hater, but I think that later on in the series, he tends to get quite rude, and a little too emotional (or, in everyone else's terms, 'emo') for my tastes. So, I'm giving Neville a shot at being the hero here. Enjoy!

Part I

[Time Frame]: The early morning of the day of the Death Eater's attack.

Neville Longbottom's eyelids opened to darkness. He yawned and sat upright in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It was nearly 5 A.M., and this was his usual rising time. Professor Sprout was probably out In the Herbology Gardens by now, tending to the more ferocious plants. Neville always helped her with the more docile ones.

He turned towards the window next to which he slept and smiled. Hogwarts was beautiful this early in the morning. The mist was barely starting to rise from the grass, and you could see the sparkling dew underneath it if you looked hard enough. The sun was just rising, and the sky was a greyish-pink. Birds chirped their morning songs, and the whole world seemed perfect. He sighed contentedly, but the moment was not to last. Ron rolled over in bed and snored quite loudly, startling poor Neville, who turned around abruptly and strained his neck.

Rubbing the back of it, he scowled at the sleeping Ronald Weasley, but soon smirked mischievously. He was mumbling something in his sleep, something that sounded like 'Hermione.' Neville shook his head good-naturedly and looked at his other companions.

Dean Thomas never slept underneath the covers, even on the coldest of nights. He said it made him feel uncomfortable. It was always amusing to watch him sleep, though. He didn't snore at all, but he drooled horribly, and one hand was always hanging over the side of the mattress. It looked from a distance, and sometimes up close, like he was dead.

Seamus Finnigan was the only boy in their dormitory who couldn't stand Ron's snoring. Everyone else ignored it, but he was so irritated by it that he always slept with his head shoved underneath the pillow. Neville once voiced his worry that he might suffocate that way, but Seamus only laughed and said he could breathe just fine. When Ron asked, the old Irish temper came out and Seamus blew up on him. Neville was glad he didn't offend Seamus; the boy was feisty when he was angry.

Neville chuckled to himself, but stopped when he saw Harry tossing and turning in bed. Harry always slept fitfully. He never said why, but Neville knew it was because of nightmares. Many a night had he woken up to Harry's screams of terror, but he'd never shown that he was awake. As far as Harry was concerned, the secret of his uncomfortable sleeping habits was safe.

Neville pulled back the covers and wriggled his toes in the cold air. He pressed them down onto the even colder floor, and with a deep breath, jumped onto the wood paneling with both feet. A sickening crack resounded. Neville looked anxiously at his cronies, hoping to find that they were still asleep. Thankfully, they were. Not one of them had moved even the slightest bit.

Neville breathed a sigh of relief, and knowing that the worst was over, tiptoed over to the wardrobe. The floor made occasional noises underneath him, but they were relatively quiet. The next problem he faced came when he opened the wardrobe. The doors creaked horribly, and peering again at his pals he noticed that Dean was twitching a bit and Seamus had stirred, moving from his previous position to another one, still under the pillow, however.

Carefully, Neville lifted his robes and other things from the wardrobe, closed the door, dressed silently, and grabbed his knapsack of things from his bedside. Professor Sprout would surely marvel at his close encounter this morning. She didn't approve of waking the other students when he came to help her. This was supposed to be a secret escapade.

Neville was quite pleased when he arrived safely on the Hogwarts' Grounds without another mishap. He meandered around on the sweet-smelling grass, taking the 'scenic' route to the Gardens (meaning he walked on the landscape instead of taking the path as students were advised to do). He finally came upon the huge plant dome, and a wave of excitement came over him. A ruder student might have called him a nerd at that moment, but someone who was a nerd, like Hermione Granger, probably would have clapped him on the back, glad to see that something interested him.

He reached out a hand to touch the handle and enter the Greenhouse, but something stopped him. He heard an ever so faint cough coming from behind him. At first, he figured that it was probably a bloody horklump, escaped from the Gardens, but then he turned around to look. It was Professor Dumbledore, standing in a very long and flannel nightgown with a matching cap and slippers, adjusting his half-moon spectacles. He smiled and waved with a look of pure surprise when he noticed Neville looking at him, as though he hadn't known someone was really there.

"Good morning, Neville," he said cheerfully. "How are you?" Neville swallowed, always nervous around adults with superiority, and replied, "Fine, Professor, and you?"

Dumbledore seemed to be pondering this answer. "I am feeling well, thank you, but I do admit that I've had a bit of a cough. I apologize if I may have startled you." He smiled down again at his pupil and then turned to leave, gesturing towards the castle. "I've just been down for my morning walk, but seeing as I've caught you here as well, perhaps you'd like to join me for a stroll through our beloved school? There's something I want to show you."

Neville thought about this for a moment, looking towards his headmaster and then at the Herbology door. Dumbledore noticed. "That is, of course, if you've nothing to do this morning before breakfast."

Neville didn't want to be indecent, so he accompanied the Professor back to Hogwarts. He didn't quite know what this man might want to show him, but it wasn't really of very much interest to him. He was a little sore that he hadn't been able to talk to Professor Sprout, but he couldn't very well turn down Professor Dumbledore, now could he?

They passed through various classrooms, trailed down long hallways, rounded sharp turns, and scaled several flights of stairs before they reached the floor where Dumbledore's office was. That wasn't the first thing they saw, however. They came upon Luna Lovegood just as they stepped off the staircase.

"'Morning Professor," she said in her quiet voice. "Hi Neville." She was wearing thick, chunky black glasses and was carrying several books, as well as a magnifying glass. Neville smiled shyly and waved a bit. He was sort of partial to Luna, though he'd never betray that to anyone. Neville didn't really betray anything, for that matter, let alone which witch he had a crush on.

"Good morning, Miss Lovegood, and how are we this lovely day?" Professor Dumbledore greeted. Luna grinned up at him. "I'm looking for the nargles. You know, they're most often found in the early hours of the day." Dumbledore chuckled. "We won't be keeping you then. Onward, Neville."

And onward they went, straight to the Headmaster's office. Neville was seated in a rather comfy armchair whilst the Professor searched for something in a very large wooden chest in one corner of the room. It didn't take him very long to find what he was looking for, however. Almost as soon as Neville had placed his rear onto the fluffy chair, Dumbledore jumped (quite high for an old man, I might add) up with an object and rushed over to his student. He shoved it right in front of the poor boy's nose, causing him to sneeze.

Dumbledore rubbed the dust off of his finding and gave it to Neville, who took it in his shaking hands and almost wept. It was a picture frame, and inside the frame was a photograph of Frank and Alice Longbottom, holding hands and standing in front of Hogwarts, about sixteen or seventeen.

Neville looked up into Albus Dumbledore's face. The man sniffled and beamed. "I want you to have this, Neville. Use it as a symbol of courage. Whenever you come across a problem, look at this picture. I think it will help you in the near future."

"Sir, I couldn't possibly take this from you, it's yours!" the boy protested, holding up the sacred photo to the older gentlemen. But the photo was refused. Dumbledore shook his head and laid a hand on Neville's trembling one. "My dear, that is as good as yours. Why, those dashing young folks certainly aren't my parents, now are they? You should be very proud of what they have done. Please, take it, child. Trust me, you will need it."

Neville nodded, though not really understanding what his Professor meant. How could he use a picture if he was afraid? Of course, he was very proud of his parents, but again, a picture would do him no good if he was in danger, right? "Thank you sir, thank you very much," he mumbled, gripping his prize tightly in both hands. Dumbledore smiled and clapped him on the back. "Yes, well, you'd better take it to your dormitory now. I expect you're getting hungry, and breakfast will soon be over if you don't rush over there. Pip pip!"

Neville nodded and hurried to place the picture with his things. Then, instead of going to the Herbology Gardens to find Professor Sprout, he headed to the Great Hall, like Dumbledore had suggested, for some grub. Ravenous plants and magical fungi would have to wait until after he had gotten nourishment.

Hope you enjoyed so far. R&R if you want. Might be helpful if you're expectant for another chapter.