To Make a House a Home

To say that Neville was shocked to be sorted into Gryffindor would be an understatement. Part of him was still shocked to be a student at Hogwarts at all. Magic had not been as natural for him as it was for other children, and while McGonagall had several theories as to why, Neville never cared to listen to them. All he could focus on was all the ways he felt like he was falling behind his peers. Even given that he and Harry were both grappling with possibly being the child of the prophecy, half of his family expected him to be a squib despite their limited exposure to him. McGonagall seemed entirely unconvinced of this, and had been right, but her opinion made no difference against a sea of negative voices.

It was strange to be here, in the House of his guardian. Gryffindor belonged to people like her. Like his parents and their friends. Like Sirius and Remus. People who were bold and loud and bright, like a mess of vibrant colors thrown against the canvas of the world without a care for how the painting ended up so long as it was theirs.

Gryffindor did not belong to him. It did not suit him. He was a coward. Afraid of his destiny and of the prophecy that had been pressed upon him and Harry. Afraid to raise his voice the way the Gryffindors did. Afraid to do all of the dangerous, risky, terrifying stunts that Gryffindors had been pulling since before McGonagall was his guardian.

That was not to say that he was in entirely unfamiliar territory. He was extremely used to spending his time in the spaces occupied by Gryffindors. Ever since he could walk he'd been doted on by the Gryffindor students. They would take him with them as they walked between classes and would offer to entertain him during their free periods while McGonagall was busy. Some did it in the hopes of gaining McGonagall's favor and others did it simply because they saw Neville as the House's collective younger brother, but regardless Neville was always looked after and rarely lonely.

Where Harry had spent random visits being doted on by random students in the school, Neville lived full-time with McGonagall and that meant that he spent each school year at Hogwarts. Harry knew nearly every inch of the castle purely because he had a habit of exploring and would latch onto anyone willing to follow him around as he wandered. Neville wasn't the same. Instead, he stuck to a few of the same spaces and became very familiar with them. He spent hours sitting quietly in the library, watching attentively as Professor Sprout walked him through the different plants in the greenhouse, and lounging in the Gryffindor Common Room pouring over muggle novels borrowed from students as well as textbooks on botany and herbology.

Neville had genuinely expected to be sorted into Hufflepuff. He didn't exactly match the rest of Gryffindor House, but he thought he'd fit in amongst the much calmer, less chaotic Hufflepuffs. Not to mention that Hufflepuff students were known to be especially good at herbology thanks to Professor Sprout being their Head of House.

Now, being escorted up to the Gryffindor Tower alongside his new Housemates, all Neville can think is that he doesn't remember Gryffindors being quite so loud. He's not sure he'll survive the night, much less the next seven years.

Everyone around him seems rowdy and far too energetic, and he doesn't immediately recognize anyone. To be fair that's to be expected given that he didn't ride the train like the other students, but it's still rather disheartening to feel so alone amidst his future peers. He almost wishes he had ridden the train if only so he'd have had a chance to meet someone else his age in Gryffindor before arriving. Now he's left feeling very self-conscious and utterly alone.

Before Neville can freak himself out any further one of the boys glances over and offers him a grin.

"I'm Seamus. You're Neville, right? The hat took a long time with you, huh?" He asks with a lopsided smile as he looks at Neville, "It's freaky, right? Feeling it rifle through your memories and stuff."

Neville nods and offers a nervous smile, "I'm Neville. I uhm... maybe spent half my time with the hat begging it to send me to Hufflepuff..."

After a beat of silence Neville adds, "They're quieter."

"And how do you know that?" Seamus asks with a laugh as they head up the stairs to their room.

"I've been living here during the school year since I was a baby," Neville says with a shrug, "You learn a few things living here."

"Wait a minute! I've read about you!" One of the other boys cuts in with wide eyes, "When we got my letter my mum insisted I did all kinds of research and practically any book on recent Wizarding events mentioned you and Harry Potter!"

Neville shrinks under the sudden influx of attention and smiles shyly, "There's uhm... this prophecy thing? It could be either of us, really! And well... it's safer for me to stay here."

"So McGonagall's like your mum then?!" Seamus asks incredulously.

Neville shakes his head, "She's not my mum, my mum's dead."

"But she's like your mum isn't she? She looks after you and such?" Seamus presses on.

"I guess. She's my legal guardian, I live with her full time," Neville shrugs again, avoiding eye contact.

"Does the prophecy mean you and Harry are brothers?" Dean asks curiously, "That must be awkward since he's in Hufflepuff like you wanted and you're in Gryffindor instead."

Neville laughs and shakes his head, "Why would Harry be my brother? The prophecy could apply to either of us because of our birthday, that's all. He lives with his godfather, not McGonagall and me. Although he visits sometimes."

"So you're like cousins then?" Seamus asks as they enter their room and he immediately flops onto a bed.

"We're not related!" Neville cries out, on the verge of frustration.

"But are you like cousins?" Seamus asks in an annoying repetition of his earlier question about McGonagall being Neville's mother, "I mean do you spend time together during holidays and stuff, and do your parents or guardians or whatever hang out?"

Neville tries to be patient, "We do not fit a standard family dynamic, but the closest thing honestly would be that McGonagall is like Harry's great aunt who scares his parents into behaving. Which... I suppose makes the two of us some variety of cousins. But we aren't. It just... technically seems like it. And I'm not upset with Harry for being sorted into Hufflepuff. I'm just surprised the hat didn't send me there is all."

"Why do you call her McGonagall? She's practically your mum, so shouldn't you at least be on a first-name basis?" Dean asks with a laugh as he claims a bed.

"Harry calls her that as do the other students here, so it's just what I'm used to. Although Sirius had tried on multiple occasions to get Minnie or Aunt Minnie to catch on," Neville offers with a wry smile.

"We should totally call her that!" Seamus says with a grin just a hair too boisterous for Neville's taste.

Neville, still standing by the door rolls his eyes at the other's antics, "You do that. And let me know how it works out for you."

Seamus laughs and the other boys all lapse into silence and then their own mumbled and muttered conversations.

Neville sits on another one of the beds and looks around absently, his eyes trail over the different things in the room. It's all pretty standard from what he's seen in the past, and he's shocked to remember that he's not just visiting here, it's his dorm now. He lives here. With these loud, nosey, intrusive Gryffindor boys.

Somehow, right now that idea doesn't sound so bad.

He's beginning to rethink things the following morning as their table is nearly loud enough to drown out a Howler from Sirius. Or at least it's loud up until they all catch wind of drama afoot and quiet down so they can listen in. The silence at the table as they listen to the excited yelling of one of their alumni is stifling in Neville's opinion and almost enough to make him miss all the yelling.

Thankfully, to distract him from the chaos erupting over the delivery of a rather joyful Howler, an owl helpfully drops a letter right in front of him. Strange, given that generally, the only person who writes to him on a regular basis is Harry, but not completely unwelcome. It's nice to know that people are thinking of him, and it's not as if there aren't other people in the Wizarding World who know him and would have a reason to write to him. Still, he's a bit surprised to find that the letter is signed by none other than Molly Weasley.

Her soft, slightly messy writing fills a large length of parchment crammed full of hopeful wishes and encouraging words for the school year ahead of him. Her soft, maternal nature practically bleeds off of the page and into the air as he reads the heartfelt and tender letter from one of the closest things he has to a mother. While Harry had certainly spent more time with the Weasleys than Neville had it wasn't as if they had been raised entirely separately and thus he was familiar with the various members of the Weasley family. In the absence of his own mother Neville had found plenty of people stepping in, but Molly and McGonagall had been the most steadfast in their role of protector and caretaker. Neville had spent a few weeks in the summer tucked in amongst the other children at the Burrow, and he reveled in the complicated structure and comforting chaos of their family. Even despite what should be an evident connection and near adoration from the Weasleys, Neville is never quite sure of where he stands with him which is part of why Molly's letter is so shocking, enough to bring a mist of tears to his eyes as he reads her gentle words and soft encouragement.

Before he's even had time to fully process the letter from Molly a new owl swoops in and deposits another thick pad of parchment. As he gingerly sets aside Molly's letter and unfolds the new note he is pleasantly greeted by a lively message. The ink on the page moves and shifts, changing color and style as it passes from hand to hand, and Neville finds himself laughing quietly at the attention it presses upon him. Unlike Harry (and technically Draco) who had been treated to a loud and attention-grabbing Howler, Neville has been sent a silent but equally lively note from Sirius and Remus, with the occasional comment from Tonks included in her iconically scattered and cramped handwriting lit up in a constantly changing color of ink.

"I figured you'd appreciate something a bit quieter," Sirius's bold scarlet handwriting explains, only to immediately be pushed seemingly off of the piece of parchment by Remus's words in a sharp gold.

"You're such a liar, Pads, I was the one who told you not to send the poor boy a Howler. Caught him halfway through making one!" Remus's softer, neater handwriting argues.

"Hello, Little Lion!" Scrawled across the corner of the page is a teasing greeting from Tonks, paired with a rough drawing of a lion that manages to look more like an unfortunate bush thanks to the different colors swirling through the ink.

For the next handful of minutes, the letter continues its bright display, tossing words on and off of the page in an easy-to-follow rhythm that gives the same feeling as a conversation without drawing any attention to Neville or his mail. Despite his earlier worries of the morning, Neville finds himself relaxing now that he's met with such blatant support and love. It's easy, living primarily with McGonagall and spending a decent amount of time outside of anything close to a traditional family setting, to forget just how many people care about him and want what is best for him, but sitting here with a lovely letter from Mrs. Weasley and a thoughtful note from Sirius, Remus, and Tonks it becomes a little bit easier to comprehend. Being faced with such blatant care makes the ache in his chest ease slightly and helps to assuage some of his anxiety over his sorting and his uncertain future.