**Due to recent misinterpretations of some one post
from this blog, a disclaimer is now apparently necessary. If this is your first visit to The
Scratched Camera, please read the introductory post and discover, for yourself, that every typed word that
follows is unabashedly my opinion and mine alone. In said introductory post, which,
shockingly, I did not simply type up for my own good health, I state that we
all read events and characters with our own baggage in mind; no one observes
with a perfectly clear lens—hence the
name The Scratched Camera.
Therefore, it is completely your will to disagree with any material that
follows, just as it is my will to agree and advocate for what is mine.** ~End, irritating obligatory disclaimer~
Neville Longbottom—He’s Worth Twelve Malfoys
IGN
described Neville as the “quintessential dimwit-turned-hero.” While this description is undeniably
accurate, I can’t appreciate the way it is worded—as if to imply Neville’s
journey is as common as an everyday Zero to Hero storyline. The transformation of Neville
Longbottom, to me, holds far more weight than the simplicity of this statement
allows for.
Longbottom started as nothing more
than a fool who was often harnessed for some comedic merit. His list of failures is nearly as long
as Granger’s list of accomplishments; therefore, I’ll issue the same courtesy I
handed the previously mentioned brainiac.
Two or three examples should suffice—after all, there’s no reason to
beat this already dead horse.
In Prisoner of Azkaban, he was
foolish enough to write down the passwords for the Gryffindor Common Room, a
mishap that provided the unforeseeably harmless Sirius Black an all
access pass to the child he was supposedly attempting to murder. In Order
of the Phoenix, his own clumsiness results in the spilling of Stinksap all
over his classmates. He even
managed to transport his own ears onto a cactus in Transfiguration in the
fourth novel of the series. Although,
it should be noted at this juncture that it was revealed in OoP that the wand Neville held
throughout the first four novels was recycled from his father and was,
therefore, never truly allegiant to him.
The wand does, after all, choose the wizard.
The various failures put on
display, particularly in the course of the first four novels of the series,
serve to allow Neville to represent the insecurities we all suffer from. Not only are his own short fallings
enough of a reminder, his family and friends are ever eager to depict him as
nothing more than a disappointment as well.
This often results in bullying and
belittling. His family members
bullied him in his formative years, as they strove to prompt any form of magic
to erupt from the boy, whom they suspected might actually be a Muggle in
disguise. His arrival at Hogwarts
did not put an end to this torment.
His grandmother still actively strode to inform him that he falls short
of those who came before him, as she pressures him towards “upholding the
family honor,” a phrase the reader wouldn’t truly understand for several
hundred more pages.
The staff and his acquaintances at
Hogwarts provided little to no solace on the issue either, as Snape and Malfoy
eagerly filled the shoes vacated by his family members in the role of
torturer. Malfoy goes so far as to
bluntly state that Longbottom is far too cowardly to be in Gryffindor and,
therefore, surmises that the Sorting Hat must’ve made some form of a clerical
error when sorting him.
This
torture isn’t always necessarily external either. Frequently, Longbottom seeks to put himself in his own
place, as he reminds others of just how pitiful he thinks he truly is. In Chamber
of Secrets, he all but declares himself as a Squib. Matters have not improved by the
beginning of The Order of the Phoenix, as he brushes off his introduction to Luna Lovegood—you know, the woman who should’ve
ended up as his wife—with a declaration to his unimportance: “I’m nobody,” he tells her, causing the
heart of nearly every reader to clench in the process.
Despite
the constant cycle of belittling and resounding sense of inadequacy, Neville
not only frequently finds the motivation to fight, but is often willing to
stand for a cause that frightens most, if not all, others. He is one of a handful of students who
respond to the call of the D.A. coin in Order
of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince. He alone stands brashly in rebellion
against Snape and the Carrows in Deathly
Hallows, a position he feels obligated to rise to with the absence of
previous fearless leader Harry Potter.
Through
these insurmountable odds and solidarity, Longbottom often finds a shocking
amount of bravery to batten down his hatches. Despite facing off against three of the most popular and
successful students—well, maybe except Ron—the school has to offer, Neville
stands strong, as he insists the Golden Trio stay in for the night in Sorcerer’s Stone. By Order
of the Phoenix, this insignificant scene becomes far more important than
the reader could’ve possibly ever expected it to, as a deeper sense of justice
and bravery develops over the course of the novel for the character. He stands against Seamus to declare his
allegiance to Harry and Dumbledore on the return of Voldemort. By the end of the novel, he’s
challenging Harry Potter himself, as he demands to be allowed to put their
lessons from Dumbledore’s Army to use and serve as his backup in the Battle at
the Department of Mysteries.
Longbottom’s accusations, which entail calling the protagonist out on his
insistence to go alone and accusing the D.A. as being nothing more than a game,
quickly serve to reverse Potter’s premeditated plan.
As
the series progresses, a source for this sudden reservoir of courage slowly
emerges. In Goblet of Fire, the audience learns that Neville is familiar with
the Cruciatus curse as we experiences the affect a demonstration of the curse
can issue to the character. When
he hears the sound provided by the opening of the Dragon’s Egg, Longbottom’s
first inclination is to assume it is the horrible sound of someone being
tortured by the same curse. No
hesitation is dealt from Longbottom on the matter; the conclusion is reached
automatically.
By
the end of the novel, Dumbledore finally puts the puzzle pieces together for
the audience, as he reveals to Harry the terrible fate Frank and Alice
Longbottom suffered through at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. When we learn that his parents are
still alive, yet suffering a mental hindrance along a similar line to Muggle
Alzheimer’s disease, Harry, and the audience, grows to understand the character
on a scale that was unprecedented previously. The horrible suffering his parents were subjected to often
serves to fuel a fire in Neville.
Throughout
Order of the Phoenix, the flames only
grow in intensity. When Malfoy
jokes about a wing at St. Mungo’s solely fit for those who have weakened minds
from exposure to certain violent magic, Neville charges at the boy
instantaneously. Gone are the days
of stuttering Longbottom, who barely manages to confront his own friends; he’s
ready to defend his family and himself to the cruelest bully in all of
Hogwarts.
As
the novel continues, the audience is only shown more dedication to truly
upholding his family’s honor. The
combination of Bellatrix Lestrange’s escape from prison with the opportunity
for intensive lessons from Harry through the D.A. finally allows for Neville to
become truly successful with magic, even with the continued use of his father’s
recycled wand. The knowledge that
the woman who tortured his parents is no longer paying for her crimes fuels
Longbottom’s internal motivation in a way no previous force has been able
to. He wants to know he has the
ability to return her favor, should the opportunity arise for him to do so.
By
the final novel, the suffering of his parents has driven Neville to the point
where he is nearly unrecognizable—in a good way, of course; and, in the case
of the films, in an extremely good way. He suffers his own first dose of the Cruciatus Curse from
the Carrows, as punishment for aiding other students they were torturing. As a result, he is forced to flee to
the Room of Requirement to escape prison or death. In the Battle of Hogwarts, he alone stands up to Voldement,
despite the fact that “the Chosen One,” is supposedly dead and the war effort
should, therefore, be truly diminished.
His courage in the face of adversity would’ve undeniably rendered his
parents proud of their son.
The
influence of his Frank and Alice may not always be directly referenced, but it
holds an undeniable power in creating some of Neville’s bravest moments,
allowing the character to very easily prove Malfoy wrong and earn his worth as
a proud Gryffindor. In Order of the Phoenix, he and Harry are
truly the only two left standing at the close of the Battle at the Department
of Mysteries. He reforms the D.A.
in the face of the cruel Carrows, in the process holding true to Potter’s indoctrination
of rebellion. On his final walk,
it is Neville that Harry trusts enough to prompt his brief pause to issue one
final order—steal the sword, kill the snake. Potter knew, even if he couldn’t experience the end of this
battle, he could count on Longbottom to see it through to the bitter end. Harry’s faith is not misguided—Neville
comes through with brilliant dependency.
Many
questions have arose over the course of the years since the reveal in Order of Phoenix that the prophecy
could’ve potentially been about Neville, had Voldemort chosen to pursue him
instead of the Potters. Most
frequently, it is asked just how dimwitted Longbottom would fair if forced to
suffer the same trials as Harry.
Personally, from the very first stand against his friends to the very
last clean swipe of the Sword of Gryffindor, I think the wizarding world
would’ve faired just fine, as long as they had Neville Longbottom as their
champion.
From Gary King to Nicholas Angel: Is Neville a good role model? Neville not only rose above his humble origins as the silly
comedic relief, he turned them on their head and shocked the entire audience with
his ability to conquer any oppressive force presented to him. He has not only suffered—the loss of
his parents, bullying from family, classmates and teachers—but has driven
motivation from that to become one of the most skilled wizards in the series; a
wizard capable of learning the Stunning Spell second only to Hermione Granger,
the know-it-all he used to beg for help regularly. His intelligence eventually carries him far enough to
present him with an opportunity to share his definitive knowledge on Herbology
with others, as he is invited to teach the subject at Hogwarts. I love the Rowling is saying education
is a valued profession that is worthy of even the likes of the heroic Neville
Longbottom. However, it is his
actions in the final novel that truly cement the character as legendary, as the
audience witnesses even further examples of Longbottom’s definitive role model
potential. Even with facing the
death of one of his dearest friends—the one person who was supposedly able to
defeat Voldemort and win the war—Neville refuses to submit. He makes yet another stand and, as is
now the norm, follows through swiftly.
Finally, his insistence that the no underdog suffer at the hands of the
Carrows serves a beyond exemplary example that every single person is
important. This belief in the
value of the individual is rare amongst males in young adult literature, including
Neville’s very own protagonist.
Role Model Rating:
10/10
From Peter Parker to Spider-Man: Is Neville Relatable?
Neville truly did succeed in climbing up the ladder in terms of
magic-based achievements. By the
end of the fifth novel, he manages to master complicated spells with a wand
that hadn’t even chosen him.
Despite this, he is never chosen first; not by professors, his family, or
Voldemort—that last is obviously a fortunate thing. This perception that Neville is always
second best or in some other way inadequate often subscribed to by others allows
the general public to relate to Neville far more so than Harry—who is
constantly popular, constantly skilled and constantly chased after, none of
which is generally very relatable.
Finally, the suffering Neville experiences at his parents’ loss of their
mental faculties is particularly relatable in a Muggle world infected with
Alzheimers. Even Harry
acknowledges that, while he receives quite a bit of sympathy for the death of
his parents, it is Neville who truly deserves it, for he is forced to contend
with two surviving parents who can’t even recognize their own son. When the audience observes Neville on a
trip to St. Mungo’s where he graciously thanks his mother for handing him
something as silly as an empty gum wrapper, he doesn’t cry or shout. He merely thanks her, eternally
grateful that she could briefly manage acknowledging his presence. This feeling is far more common than it
should be and, as a result, Neville will always remain in the hearts of the
readers.
Relatability Rating:
9/10
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