So, this story has been banging around in my head for a while now, and some lovely folks on Tumblr finally pushed me into getting it down on paper.

This one's for anyone who has ever loved Neville. Eventually, it will be three parts long. For now, though, I hope this will suffice.

Enjoy!

I.

Standing in the Great Hall, staring up at the dais where his classmates were being Sorted one by one, all Neville could hear was his grandmother's voice in his ear.

Sometimes, Neville, I swear, I have no idea how you're going to get yourself into Gryffindor!

He usually heard that after he'd tripped over something or broken something or woken up screaming from a nightmare in the dark. Once he'd proven himself to be magical, his grandmother's worries had shifted to his Sorting.

No Longbottom would dare end up in Slytherin, and you'll never make Ravenclaw, so if you don't start acting a bit more like a Gryffindor, you're going to find yourself in Hufflepuff, of all places! Is that what you want?

He knew it was the wrong answer, but secretly, he didn't think Hufflepuff sounded so bad. There would be no expectations to live up to in Hufflepuff. He wouldn't have to prove himself brave or smart or cunning. People would just dismiss him, and that sounded nice, like maybe he could just be Neville that way. But he knew he'd never live down his grandmother's disappointment.

Why can't you be more like your father? He was fearless, even at your age! You didn't see Frank Longbottom afraid to kill a spider or running away from people who made fun of him! Stand up for yourself, Neville! You'll never be Sorted into Gryffindor if you keep running away and hiding from everything! What would your father think of you?

But that was half the problem. Neville didn't know what his father would think of him because he didn't know the Frank Longbottom that his grandmother and great-aunts and -uncles talked about all the time. All he knew was a man in a room in a hospital, who stared at the walls and had a tendency to drool, and if that man remembered who Neville was or that he'd ever even had a son, well, Neville had never seen any sign of it. So how was he supposed to answer What would your father think of you?

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the scary, stern professor call his name. It took a sharp nudge from Ernie Macmillan for the awkward, too-long silence to register. Neville stumbled forward, tripping over his feet as he had a tendency to do when he was nervous. He heard the muted laughter in the Hall and felt his face flare red. The disapproving stare of the stern teacher, even if it was directed around the Hall rather than at him, made him want to flee altogether and find some dark corner to hide in.

But he remembered what his grandmother had said to him this morning as he'd boarded the train - Do try and live up to the family name, Neville. Make me proud, boy. Make your father proud - and he squared his shoulders and approached the Sorting Hat. As he sank onto the stool in front of all those watching eyes, he was strangely grateful for the long robes that hid his knocking knees. As the Hat slipped down over his eyes, he clasped his hands together in his lap to keep them from shaking.

Well now, Mr. Longbottom. Let's see what we have here. Oh, my. Interesting . . .

A jolt of panic shot through him. Interesting? What was interesting? He wasn't interesting. He was just Neville.

Just Neville, Mr. Longbottom? Is that what you think?

Well, yeah. He was just Neville. He didn't have any skills or talents or anything that made him extraordinary. Just ask his grandmother.

Hmm, the Hat said then, a quality in its "voice" that Neville couldn't place. Your grandmother . . . yes. But I can see things that she can't, Mr. Longbottom. Your head, your heart, your potential. I see your caring nature, your concern for others, your desire to make them happy. I see your loyalty and your dedication. And I see your courage.

Courage?

It was the first thought he'd actually directed at the Hat, and the word was mostly startled out of him. He'd listened to the list of traits with vague bewilderment because it didn't really sound like him, this person the Hat was describing. But courage?

I - I don't have any courage, he thought, a little frantically. I'm not - not brave. I'm scared of everything, the dark and strangers and - and even magic a little bit. Once you poke around a bit more, you'll see. I'm not brave.

No? the Hat asked. You're here, aren't you? You fear the dark, but you turn out the light each night. You worry about meeting strangers, but you asked for help on the train this afternoon from a girl you'd never met. Magic frightens you, but why wouldn't it, when you've seen firsthand the devastating effect it can have? There is no shame in fear, Mr. Longbottom. What defines us, what defines you is how you react to that fear. You wanted to run away only moments ago, but you didn't. You came forward and you're here.

Only because I'm more afraid of my grandmother's reactions than any of those other things! Neville thought desperately. It's not bravery, it's just being scared of something else more! I'm telling you, you've got it wrong!

I know what I see, Mr. Longbottom, and what defines you more than any other quality is your courage.

NO, Neville thought, his mental voice more forceful than his actual voice had ever been. You - you can't put me there, I don't belong there, I'm not brave enough, I'm not brave at all.

There was a long pause, and then the Hat asked, Where would you have me put you, Mr. Longbottom? The Hat's voice was gentle, and Neville felt a little flare of shame - the Hat wanted to put him in Gryffindor! Shouldn't he be thrilled? Didn't he want to be in Gryffindor?

Yes, he thought almost desperately, as quietly as he could to try and hide the thought from the Hat. He wanted to be in Gryffindor with almost everything inside him. But more than that, he wanted to deserve Gryffindor. He wanted what the Hat had said to be true, but he knew it wasn't. It wasn't, so it wasn't fair to let it put him there. They'd find out, eventually, that he wasn't brave enough, wasn't a hero. That he didn't belong. He'd let them down sooner or later, so wasn't it better to disappoint his grandmother now, when she was already expecting it, than to get her hopes up and disappoint her more when he failed to live up to even the House he'd been Sorted into?

Hufflepuff, he answered the Hat, his voice quiet and deliberate. That's where you should put me.

Interesting, the Hat said again. Why?

The question took Neville aback. Why? Wasn't it obvious?

Because, he said, his mental voice faltering just a little. I'm not brave enough for Gryffindor or smart enough for Ravenclaw or cunning enough for Slytherin, so isn't Hufflepuff all that's left?

Hufflepuff House is not a catch all, Mr. Longbottom, the Hat said gently, but Neville still flushed at the rebuke. The students I Sort into Hufflepuff are put there for the qualities they possess just like any other student in any other house.

A jolt of fear stabbed through him then, the terrifying thought that maybe he wasn't good enough for any house, and what would that mean? Would the Hat send him home? He hadn't shown magic for so long, and he was still scared to use it, what if he was still mostly a Squib? What if he didn't belong at Hogwarts at all?

The Hat's voice cut through the panic. You would do very well in Hufflepuff, Mr. Longbottom, and you have more than enough magical talent to become a superior wizard. Hufflepuff House would welcome you. You possess many of the qualities they value - integrity, dedication, loyalty, humility.

He was suddenly able to breathe again. He would stay at Hogwarts. he would go to Hufflepuff. He probably wouldn't ever become a "superior wizard," whatever the Hat thought about that, but he would do all right.

I want to be a Hufflepuff, he said, waiting for the word to be shouted for the whole Hall to hear.

He felt something from the Hat then that seemed a bit like regret, and it lit a new wave of dread in his stomach.

I truly believe that a part of you does, Mr. Longbottom. And you would do well there. But I must consider many things when I Sort. I must consider what is best for the House and what is best for the child, and though I understand your fear and hesitation, my mind is as made up as it was when you first sat on this stool. Perhaps even more so, for you have shown your courage in daring to speak up at all.

No, thought Neville, his mental voice only a croak. Don't, please.

You would do well in Hufflepuff, Mr. Longbottom, but there is only one House that will help you grow into your full potential as a wizard. It is the House that will help you the most and the House that you will help the most, and I hope someday, you will understand my choice.

You're making a horrible mistake! he pleaded, desperately. I don't want to let you down, too!

You won't, the Hat said then, its voice kind and encouraging, which bewildered Neville.

And without giving him time to formulate another argument, even if his shocked mind could have come up with one, the Hat yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!"

To be continued.