Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Written for; Stickers; Magical Creatures; Bowtruckle - A character having trouble fitting in.
Word count Without AN - 332
Who You Are
It was lonely, realising that what you hoped for all your life was nothing like the reality of what you actually got. Your grandma, with all her cruel logic, had been right.
You didn't fit in here.
Oh, she was wrong about your magic. You had just enough to get yourself a Hogwarts letter, and you even managed to convince the hat that you could be as brave as your father before you, but that was as far as your dream took you.
You didn't have friends, not like the others. Harry and Ron and Dean and Seamus, they all had each other. You were the odd man standing.
You thought, perhaps, that Hermione could be your friend, your one friend above the others, but she was too clever. You could never keep up with her, and then, and then the troll happened and the due became a trio and you were left out again.
You couldn't learn the magic. You couldn't create the potions.
You weren't good enough ever.
Grandma's words echoed in your mind, telling you not to get your hopes up because you probably just weren't magical enough. Telling you that you weren't like your father, or even like your mother.
The only thing you had was your plants. What good were plants? They couldn't talk back to you, they couldn't keep you company, they couldn't help you learn the things that just weren't sinking in.
But they did keep you company in the end. They did become your friends. Granted, plants couldn't help you with spell work, but two out of three wasn't bad.
You remained, the odd one out, the lone Gryffindor in a room of doubles.
Until… slowly… it changed.
It was a struggle, to get through those first years of loneliness, but you managed. And it made you stronger.
You would never forget those years, because they made you who you are.
And who you are is Neville Longbottom.
And you are proud of that.