It's the Heart that Matters
Well, bless my soul
You're a lonely soul
Cause you won't let go
Of anything you hold
- Say (All I Need), OneRepublic
Neville swore it was an accident. Honestly, he hadn't meant to find them.
He had woken early that Sunday with the intentions of studying for his Charm's exam that coming week. Encouraged by the glare of sunlight passing through his curtains, he had woken and dressed before the other boys. But when he dug through the chaos of his trunk, he just couldn't find his Charm's book. He looked under his bed, on his side table, everywhere he could think of before conceding defeat.
So it was with reluctance but without choice that he had approached a sleeping Harry Potter to ask to borrow his book.
"Sure, Nev, s'in my trunk," he had muttered before rolling over with the scarlet duvet over his head.
Neville had no trouble in finding the book, stacked as it was neatly on top of Harry's school things. He just didn't intended to find the box beneath it.
It was made of cardboard and looked much like a Muggle shoe box. It was quite an innocuous item to find in Harry's trunk and that wasn't what had drawn Neville's attention. Rather, it was the scrap of parchment poking out from under the lid that Neville immediately recognized as a birthday card he had once sent Harry.
Curious, he gently lifted it from the trunk, looking over his shoulder to make certain that the other boys still had their curtains drawn. Prompted by their sleepy silence, Neville gingerly placed the box in his lap and took off the worn top.
Inside there was a clutter of parchment and cards. Tentatively, he pulled a worn letter from the top and unfolded it:
Dear Harry,
Happy birthday!
Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggle's didn't give you a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted…
With a bit of hysteria growing in his chest, Neville searched the bottom of the letter and nearly laughed out loud at the thought of Ron shouting into a Muggle telephone. Shaking his head, he rifled through the other letters and found similar birthday wishes and letters from Harry's friends. Before he reached the bottom of the box, Neville realized that Harry must have saved every letter he had received in his years at Hogwarts.
Instantly sobered, he felt a surge of fondness for the sleeping boy whose bed he knelt at. Quiet and humbled, he bit his lip and placed everything back into the box, setting it gently as it was beneath the stack of books.
With the borrowed book beneath his arm, he took a long look at the boy whose breath was deep and even, and imagined the strong rhythmic pulse of the heart that drummed faithfully within.
The heart that steadied Neville's shaking hands and willed his own to beat a little bit stronger.
Note: The letter excerpt was taken from page nine of Prisoner of Azkaban and, as such, belongs to J.K. Rowling.