neville-longbottom

So once upon a time I wrote a Neville/Luna chaptered fic that was set during the seventh year of the trio. This was before Half-Blood Prince came out and I had so much fun with the prophecy and making up theories. 

My main theories? Neville was the other in the prophecy. “Neither can live while the other survives.” My other theory is that Dumbledore got the power that the Dark Lord knows not wrong. He thought it was love. 

I thought it was forgiveness. 

I had this crazy theory that Neville’s remembrall was his mother’s and that she discovered the true way to defeat Voldemort. But then they were attacked and before she died, she put the information in her remembrall. And Neville was hit with a memory charm, and when that charm finally wore off, he remembered how to defeat Voldemort. 

Oh it was so much fun to write. Especially having Harry have to deal with forgiveness and actually forgive Voldemort in order to defeat him. 

Here’s the story if anyone’s curious. Remembrall or Nothing

Can I Trust You?

Warnings: Sad

A/N: All characters from the potterverse belong to J.K. Rowling.

Visuals denoted by (x) 

Visuals (x)

Masterlists Here (x) (x)

“Y/N would you please come back here!” you heard Neville call, but you continued storming away from him tears filling your eyes. You didn’t want to be alone with Neville or near Neville for that matter. You were always insecure from the moment that you and Neville started dating. You never believed in love. Your father had left your mother when you were younger, and your mother never fully recovered. She constantly cursed your father, and all men. She convinced you that all men were horrible, cruel people that wanted nothing to do with love. They only wanted to get in your pants and leave. You were in front of the water; the waves were crashing down at your feet (x). You heard Neville come up behind you, touching your shoulder lightly, but you moved away.

“Y/N what did I say that is making you act like this. All I said was-“ you cut him off.

“Don’t say it again,” you yelled out at the sea not turning to face him. He was playing with your heart for sex. Why hadn’t you listened to your mother and denied his advances? Neville turned you to face him, despite you wanting to look away from him.  

“Y/N I don’t know why you find it so hard to believe that I,” he paused, selecting his words carefully. “care about you.” You forced yourself to look into his eyes. His eyes looked just as pained as yours if not more so.  You never told anyone about your home life, but when you looked in Neville’s eyes, you couldn’t refuse him.

“When I was three my father left us,” you began. “Since then I’ve been convinced that all men are unkind, selfish jerks. Then you show up, and you are so kind to me Neville.  You confuse me because you go against everything I thought men were. You can actually-” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. You were relieved when you felt his arms wrap around you in reassurance. He understood you now.

“I’m not going to abandon you Y/N. I lo-“ Neville pauses to correct himself. “like you a lot. I’ll wait for you to be ready for those three little words. I had no idea.” You relaxed as you felt his hands lightly stroke your hair, soothing you. Your fear from earlier diminished. In time, Neville could help you learn to trust again.

Friendly reminder that Snape relentlessly bullies Neville for seven years

Friendly reminder that Snape tried to poison a child’s pet

Friendly reminder that the same thirteen year old’s worst fear was his professor, and not the woman who tortured his parents into insanity

Friendly reminder the when Malfoy curses Hermione and her teeth grow past her chin, Snape says he “sees no difference” and makes a fourteen year old cry

Friendly reminder that the first day of class Snape harasses Harry, who has no idea why

Friendly reminder that in fifth year Snape vanishes Harry’s potion out of spite, and later purposely drops Harry’s vial so he won’t get any marks in class

Friendly reminder that Snape tells Lupin and Lockhart that Neville is incompetent and essentially can’t do anything right in front of Neville and all his classmates

Friendly reminder that Snape is in his thirties and these kids are teenagers at most.

professor neville being patient with students who need things explained again

professor neville noticing and telling students when their herbology skills have improved since the beginning of the year

professor neville snapping at students who laugh at somebody for getting an answer wrong

professor neville being FURIOUS if it’s another staff member doing it

professor neville encouraging students to pursue careers in magical fields they’re good at even if it’s not what their parents want

PROFESSOR NEVILLE MAKING SURE NO ONE HAS A TEACHER FOR A BOGGART AGAIN

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J.K. Rowling had the best reaction to Neville Longbottom’s underwear shoot 

In a cover shoot for Attitude magazine, actor Matthew Lewis stripped down to his underwear and revealed impressive pecs and abs, with what looks like a majestic wand to match. This proved too much for Rowling, who responded with the above (hilarious) tweets. But she wasn’t the only Potter person to speak up, even Lucius Malfoy portrayer Jason Isaacs got in on the action.

sigma-castell asked:

Have you ever thought about writing a fic in which Voldemort went after the Longbottoms instead of the Potters?

If Voldemort had chosen the pureblood boy, not the halfblood, as his opponent? This Neville would have had graves to visit, instead of a hospital. He’d still have grown up in his grandmother’s clutches, tut-tutted at, dropped out windows absentmindedly, left to bounce on paving stones.

Let’s tell this story: Alice Longbottom, who was the better at hexing, told Frank to take Neville and run.

She died on the braided rug of their sitting room floor. Frank heard her fall from where he stood in front of the cradle. He did not have time to run.

When the Dark Lord climbed the stairs and saw Frank, he laughed at the small man in front of him. Frank had crooked teeth, a mis-sized nose, big fingers and small, watery eyes. Voldemort looked at him the way children would look at Neville, in almost a decade, at stubby fingers around a rememberall, a wrinkled brow and a stammer. “Move aside,” he said, the way a different Voldemort had once offered a way out to Lily Potter. That had been for the sake of another man’s love, and this was for his own contempt. “Just let me have the boy. Did you really think you could–”

When Neville met Voldemort again, in his fourth year, when Luna’s advice, his own gillyweed knowledge, and Ginny’s Bat Bogey Hex lessons had gotten him through the Triwizard Tournament he’d never signed up to enter, there would be a bubbling scar on Voldemort’s sunken left cheek. His father had had time for one curse. Frank’s love had saved his son, marked him, but his hate had been enough, too, to scar Tom Riddle through every rebirth and transformation he would ever have.

Harry Potter would have grown up as James’s oldest son. I think Lily, who missed her sister, and James, who had found three brothers at school and loved them more than life, would have had more children: a little sister who James taught to fly (little Tuney’d be Keeper to Ginny’s Seeker, in a decade, and gossip terribly about Harry), a baby brother Lily fervently talked James out of naming Lupeterius. Harry would have grown up spoiled and loved, magical, with toy broomsticks and playdates with the other Order kids– stumbling Neville, the Bones girl and the rollicking Weasley bunch.

If the Potters were never the main targets, never hiding and frightened, I don’t think Peter would have turned when he did. Not enough gain. Not enough tail-tucking fear. Peter would have limped through to the end of the war, whiskers shivering in his soul even when they were popping champagne on the night Neville Longbottom’s parents died.

They raised delicate glasses that had somehow survived all the first war, laughing, in Godric’s Hollow, to the Boy Who Lived. Augusta Longbottom planned her children’s funeral and wondered if her grandson’s forehead would scar like that. Lily danced in the living room with James, on the garish rug that Sirius had bought them as a joke and that they had kept just to spite him.

But this was a story about Neville now–it would always be a story about Harry, somewhat, because it had never been the scar that made the boy. When Draco Malfoy stole Neville’s rememberall, this Harry would still jump on a broom; when Hermione, weeping in the bathrooms, didn’t know about the troll, Harry would still run to tell her–that instinct was not something even having loving parents (especially these parents) would have kept from him.

But this had always been a story about Neville, too– unscarred Neville, Neville with his pockets full of gum wrappers, this had always been the story of his rise and his steady soul. But this time he was marked from birth, a scar on his forehead and hands that weren’t any better at holding a wand. This time, his grandmother had even more reason to look at him with disappointment when he spent all his childhood looking powerless.

Neville was not the disappeared savior who they whispered about. Halloween was still a celebration of Voldemort’s fall, but Neville was a lucky object, not a small hero, because where there had been a vacuum to fill when it had been Harry Potter, to fill with wonderment and thanks, here Neville toddled down Diagon Alley and held his grandmother’s hand. The whole world knew this boy was probably a squib, with pudgy fingers and a slow stammer, who didn’t learn to read until it was almost time to go to Hogwarts.

When Neville got his Hogwarts letter, the whole wizarding world was very politely surprised. He got told congratulations from strangers in the street, who in different universes would be shaking Harry Potter’s hand and swooning. Neville was far above smart enough to recognize than none of the other children got congratulated for the victory of being asked to attend school.

He asked the Hat for Hufflepuff and it gave him Gryffindor. He hoped they did not expect him to learn how to roar.

This was a Neville scarred. This was a Neville who would still get a rememberall and still forget it in his room two days out of five, who would eat a Weasley treat and turn into a canary, who would take Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball and not once step on her toes.

This was a Neville who had had long conversations with the garden snakes in his backyard as a child and who had snuck them bits of his breakfast, kept track of which little serpent liked soft boiled eggs and which would dare to try a bit of sausage if he wiggled it properly. When he first got to Hogwarts, lonely, a lion in lamb’s fleece, Neville hid out behind the greenhouses and made friends with the snakes who curled on the warm rocks there.

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harry potter meme | [3/8] characters → neville longbottom
“People die every day. Friends, family. Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he’s still with us, in here. So’s Fred, and Remus, Tonks. All of them. They didn’t die in vain. But you will, because you’re wrong! Harry’s heart did beat for us, for all of us! It’s not over!”