An Ode to Neville

I've been thinking a lot about Neville lately, particularly after Beth's post about him last month, which inspired this poem, in which I tried to capture the moment when Neville is summoned to the aid of Hermione, Ron and Ginny at the end of Half-Blood Prince. I'm eager to see how he's portrayed in Order of the Phoenix; here's hoping he doesn't get the short end of the stick!

The Pride of Gryffindor

"Give me courage," whispers Neville as he clutches
The golden trinket tightly in his fist.
He has never wanted anything as much as
This chance to join the battle, to resist
Evil forces sent to torture and to frighten,
And steeling for the conflict that will come,
Neville searches, and his trembling fingers tighten
Upon a crumpled wrapper from his mum.

Like a talisman, its presence holds him steady.
A fierce affection hardens every limb,
And he somehow knows that she would say he's ready,
Would see his strength. Her senses have gone dim,
Cruelly twisted, like his father's, by the specters
Who terrorize his spirit in the night,
But, perceiving both his parents as protectors,
He vows to follow them into the fight.

Timid clumsiness is stricken from his manner;
Ferocity defies the urge to quake.
With the noble name of Longbottom his banner,
He goes forth, not an eagle or a snake.
Though he shares the badger's love of all things growing,
This gentle student, with a mighty roar,
Once again becomes a lion, bravely showing
The enemy the pride of Gryffindor.