Neville was sharpening the Sword of Gryffindor when he felt the disturbance. He was running a notched rock along the edge of the blade when a ripple swelled through the air. His father, who had been deeply meditating nearby, flew alert in a flash. His wand was in his hand before Neville even noticed his eyelids snap open. He'd never admit it, but his father would have been a bit of a hero of his even if they hadn't been related.