By Hafsa Badsha @lyannatargs
There’s a moment that still makes my heart soar, nearly two decades later. It’s at the end of The Philosopher’s Stone, when Dumbledore turns the tables, and announces that Gryffindor has won the House Cup.
Is it blatant favoritism? Yes. Do I mind? No (Sorry, other houses.) But the reason it still gets me the way it is does is because ultimately, it’s Neville who triumphs the most. It’s not the most flagrant, outspoken move of bravery that counts the most, it’s the quiet moments of courage we find within ourselves.
And while I’ll always admire those who like Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who raised their voices to be on the front lines, being a Gryffindor has taught me that bravery can be unspoken. That it can be obvious only to yourself, and that’s okay.
It’s been a while since I’ve re-read the series in its entirety. And yet, nothing in my life is as deeply forged in my existence as those books and their stories. There has never been a room I’ve occupied that hasn’t had a Gryffindor emblem hung up somewhere. And at every crossroad, I remind myself that our decisions can be easy, or they can be right.
There’s a lot to be said about us Gryffindors, that we’re bold and brash and recklessly brave and fun. When I was younger, I wanted to be a part of the house that I thought was the coolest then, but as I’ve grown up, I realized that it was always meant for me. I choose the House with a girl that defied every convention, a boy who learned to stand up for himself, a family that took in a kid with no family, and one boy who went through hell and then some, and still chose love and goodness.
Happy Gryffindor Pride!