Chapter 1 : An Everyday Hero
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That’s the moment that a lot of the reporters point to. Sure, it’s what I got my Order of Merlin for, but I know that there was a more heroic moment.
The savvier ones dig deeper, into my first year, when I stood up to Harry, Ron and Hermione as they were sneaking out of the Gryffindor Common room. They feel that was the first time that I stood up for myself, and that put me on a path to greatness. I’m just a Herbology professor; I’m no great hero because I once confronted classmates. They’re missing the point.
One writer thought that the moment was when I joined Harry, Ron, Luna, Hermione and Luna in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. His information was very good and I wonder if he talked to Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban. He described me quite well: bumbling and inefficient, but willing to die to help his friends. I know that I wasn’t an asset to that fight, but I showed up and tried. The writer thought that showing up and trying, even when I knew I wasn’t a good duelist was the event that pushed me on. It made me realize that I could help my friends, and that I needed help still with Defence Against the Dark Arts; but, it’s not what made me a hero.
Luna’s father wrote in the Quibbler that my taking the reins of Dumbledore’s Army in my seventh year made me a hero. Again, I was just doing what needed to be done. It doesn’t make me a hero. It only makes me someone who stood up and said, “I’ve had enough; this stops now.” Xenophilius tried to convince me that’s what makes a hero: the guts to stand up for what’s right and take your punishment. He tried in vain to make his point. I know that it wasn’t then that I felt heroic. I just felt angry. I wanted the Carrows to be stopped; I wanted Snape gone as Headmaster. Being angry doesn’t make someone a hero.
I merely did what was necessary, what was right. The heroes from those days are the martyrs, the ones that gave their lives for what they believed in: Fred Weasley, Severus Snape, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Colin Creevey, and even Dobby. They were the true heroes. All the others whose names I didn’t remember; they’re the ones that made the difference in those days.
No, none of those events are what made feel like a hero.
What makes me feel like a hero is coming home to my wife after a long day of teaching. When she smiles at me and greets me with a kiss, even if her day at the bar has been hectic. She makes me feel loved; she makes me feel needed. I know I’m her hero and that’s all that matters now.