For the Ultimate Patronus Quest (lion: Write about someone having a conversation with Godric Gryffindor's portrait)

Neville swallows dryly. He wishes he could be as brave and bold as the man in the portrait is said to be, but his trembling hands betray his nerves. "Er… Godric Gryffindor?"

The man in the portrait turns to him, a broad grin on his lips. His eyes fall on Neville's tie, and he beams. "Ah! One of mine!" he booms, a hint of pride in his tone. "I only took the best, you know. Oh, the others will say the same about themselves. Except for Helga, of course. She'd tell you they're all the best, bless her heart. But my students… Mine were something special. What's your name, boy?"

"N-Neville Longbottom, sir."

"Longbottom? Ah, a fine family. I took most of your earliest relatives until my wing," he says. "You look troubled, dear boy. What's the matter?"

Neville bites his lip. Hearing the portrait speak so highly of his family almost hurts him. Especially given his own doubts. He can feel the tendrils of guilt wrapping around his gut. "It's just… I'm not sure that I'm meant to be in your House," he admits, and his face burns at the confession. "You're supposed to bold and great, right? I'm not."

Godric Gryffindor studies him for a moment. Neville feels his blush deepen. His grandmother has often looked at him with the same scrutiny, and she's never had anything good to say after observing him so closely. "My hat put you in Gryffindor, yes?"

Neville nods.

"Did it consider any other Houses?"

"It… Well, I begged it to place me in Hufflepuff," Neville admits, trying to sound as apologetic as possible, though he isn't actually sorry. Hufflepuff just seemed like the best fit. None of the other Houses seemed right for him.

"And did it offer you a choice?" the portrait presses.

Neville shakes his head. He's heard others talk about choises. Even Hermione Granger has said that it considered her for Ravenclaw. But when Neville had put the Sorting Hat on, it had insisted on Gryffindor, no matter how much Neville had pleaded against it.

"I crafted that hat with care," Godric says firmly. "It's as accurate as can be. It must have seen something in you."

Neville frowns at that. He doesn't know what the Sorting Hat could have seen. He's nothing special. He's just an awkward, clumsy fool. "I think there's been a mistake," he says quietly, his voice tight and almost choking. "I'm not cut out to be a Gryffindor. I'm not brave."

"Not brave?" Godric booms. "My dear boy, you've had the courage to come to the founder of your House and question the accuracy of his own creation."

"Yes, well, you're a portrait," Neville mumbles.

Godric laughs. "And you have the cheek to say that to me! In all my years, no one has dared do that," he says proudly. "It takes nerve to admit that you're unsure. Everyone thinks that bravery and boldness mean never being afraid. But they show themselves in the smallest actions you make. Don't ever forget that."

Neville nods, but he still isn't convinced.

"I see potential in you, Neville Longbottom," Godric continues, beaming down at him. "Don't be surprised if you end up being one of the finest wizards my House has ever produced."

He doesn't understand how it could be possible. He's average, at best. But he doesn't dare argue with the portrait. Besides, the words fill him with a strange warmth. He still doesn't believe that he's meant to be in Gryffindor, but if the House's founder speaks with such conviction, maybe it could be true in the end.

"Thank you," he says quietly.

"Run along, child. You have much to learn, and no better place to learn it," Godric instructs with a warm smile. "And remember, it's the little things that prove your greatness. Be bold, dear child. Be amazing."