Springfic: "Recapturing Memories" for kerrymdb
Title: Recapturing Memories
Author: shiiki
Recipient: kerrymdb
Character(s): Neville Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall, various members of Dumbledore’s Army
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 5,604 words
Warnings (highlight to view): none
Summary: The Room of Requirement has been dormant for ten years. However, Neville’s return to Hogwarts seems to be the catalyst it needs to revive … and relive some very powerful memories.
Author's Notes: Much love to my awesome betas! I hope you enjoy this, kerrymdb!
Betas: magglenagall, magikcat112, and st_dl
Recapturing Memories
Neville stood before the great oak doors, his heart pounding slightly. It was silly to be nervous, really, but he couldn't shake the memory of standing on this very step so many years ago, clutching Trevor in his palms and trembling as he waited with his peers for the doors to open.
He shook his head at himself and raised his hand to knock.
As she had on that long-ago occasion, Minerva McGonagall opened the doors to receive him. Only unlike then, a smile crept across her face at the sight of Neville.
'Ah,' she said, 'we've been waiting for you.'
'Professor McGonagall,' said Neville with an answering smile. 'I didn't expect you'd still be here.'
'I believe it would be quite inhospitable of me to leave before properly welcoming the newest addition to our staff. And,' she added sternly, 'I do believe we had a chat about names. It would be silly to continue to address me as "Professor" after I've resigned my post.'
'Of course -- Minerva.' The last word came out as little more than a whisper. Even with her permission -- even at her request -- it was incredibly strange to call her by name.
Professor-Minerva smiled. 'It gets easier, as I remember. Come -- the house-elves will see to your bags.'
He followed her along the main corridor; again the similarity to his first year was not lost on him. It had been ten years since the last time he'd set foot in Hogwarts, but that wasn't enough to make him forget the way to the Great Hall. He wondered whimsically if a Welcome Feast were awaiting him. But no, surely they didn't do that for new staff ... did they?
'SURPRISE!'
The roar of fireworks caught him unawares. Neville jumped and gaped at the brilliant sparks lighting up the ceiling of the Great Hall. They were Weasley products, by the looks of it, giant blinking formations gambolling above his head as they fizzed and crackled. He distinctly spotted a red and gold lion cavorting with a majestic orange bear, which made him grin.
When they died away, he found himself facing the entire contingent of Hogwarts staff, all beaming and clapping.
'Welcome!' said Professor Flitwick. 'Welcome, my dear boy!'
Neville felt his cheeks turn rosy red with pleasure. 'T-thank you,' he managed. 'This is -- a surprise. A Welcome Feast wasn't exactly in the job description.'
The Hogwarts teachers -- and he was one of them now, a voice in his head reminded him faintly -- laughed heartily.
'Professor Longbottom!' Professor -- no, now she was Headmistress -- Sprout raised a glass to him. 'I hope you'll have a happy time with us!'
The party went on for quite a while. It put Neville in mind of many post-Quidditch victory parties that had been held in the Gryffindor common room. He couldn't help wondering if the teachers had had their own parties in the staff room while he was at school. It was a thought as foreign as the idea of himself as 'Professor Longbottom'. He had better get used to that quickly, though. Term began in a week and it wouldn't do for him to be as nervous and fidgety as a first-year in his first class!
Late in the night, with the party over and Neville comfortably settled in his new quarters, the nostalgia started to sink in.
The last time he'd actually lived in the castle had been a decade ago, in a long year of terror and rebellion. After the war, he'd helped with the rebuilding process over the summer, of course, but following that, between working with the Aurors in the first five years and researching exotic plants in the next five, he hadn't had cause to revisit Hogwarts and the old memories.
His room was on one of the higher floors, in the same wing that housed Gryffindor Tower. Neville suspected that Sprout -- he would have to practise calling her Pomona -- intended for him eventually to take over from Bernard Weatherby, the current Potions master, as Head of Gryffindor. That would be several years off though; he wouldn't worry too much about it now.
His one window overlooked the greenhouses. It was dark so he couldn't see much of it except for the glint of glass in the moonlight. As he stared out over the grounds, however, he fancied he could almost see the pale ghosts of yesterday drifting about -- tiny figures darting about in the heat of battle, wispy Patronuses charging against the edge of the forest, faint flashes of colours signifying the spells thrown about ...
Neville shivered and moved away from the window. His fingers reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out the golden coin that he always carried with him.
His DA Galleon. The spell that linked all the coins was still active, although they mostly used it to organise reunions these days. Neville had added something to his Galleon, though: engraved in miniscule letters on the face of the coin, under the changeable numbers, were the names of every single one of his friends who had not made it through the war.
Not that he needed it. He knew those names by heart. Neville let them run through his mind as he traced his coin. However, his memories of the people they'd been were getting fuzzy around the edges. It was a struggle to recall the way they'd looked, the exact things they'd done -- something which always made him feel guilty. Logically he knew that ten years was a long time to hold something in his mind with perfect clarity, and his memory had never been first-class to begin with. Nevertheless he couldn't help feeling that he'd failed them somehow. He sighed, knowing that whenever he tried to make himself remember, sleep usually ended up a long way off.
Maybe he should make a visit to the greenhouses and say hello to his plants. In the past five years, he'd done much travelling and collecting of foreign flora, which he'd readily sent back to Spr-Pomona. He'd amassed most of the current Hogwarts collection.
Neville threw on a cloak and lit his wand, hoping he still remembered the school well enough not to get turned round in the dark.
Two corridors down, he stopped, uncertain. He was in a long, nondescript corridor with blank walls which looked both strange and familiar at the same time. It was a moment before he could put a finger on it. He knew this corridor -- something in him definitely recognised the curve and shape of it -- but it had definitely changed. Didn't there use to be a ... tapestry of some sort hanging on the wall just there?
Neville closed his eyes and dug up the mental picture of a blackened picture that used to be ... ballet-dancing trolls?
His eyes shot open. Yes, he knew this corridor. Ten years ago he'd come fleeing down it, needing to reach his safe haven before the Carrows caught him.
They'd searched for the Room during the rebuilding of Hogwarts. Only the badly burnt troll tapestry had been found; they had practically paced a hole through the corridor floor, but no matter how hard anyone wished or wanted, the door had never turned up. Charred artefacts had turned up all over the school for a time -- including a mangled corpse Draco Malfoy had identified as Vincent Crabbe -- and Harry, Ron, and Hermione had admitted that they'd last seen the Room burnt to a crisp by Fiendfyre. The burnt items had stopped appearing a month later and still there was no sign of the Room. The general consensus was that it had been irreversibly destroyed.
Neville didn't really think that anything would appear, but it didn't stop him from wishing as he walked past that he could just see it again. He owed the Room his life, after all.
He walked on to the end of the corridor and found two bright green eyes staring at him out of the shadows.
'Blimey!' he yelped before realising that it was a cat -- a cat with square spectacle markings about its keen eyes. That was all Neville had time to notice; the cat suddenly disappeared and Professor McGonagall was standing before him.
'There's no need to look like that, Longbottom,' she said, sounding amused. 'You are well within your rights to be wandering about after hours.'
He bit back his first instinct -- to mumble 'sorry, Professor' -- and pointed out instead, 'I believe we had an agreement on names, M-Minerva?'
Professor McGonagall laughed. 'I apologise, Neville. You did look very much as though you were expecting points to be taken.'
'Old habits die hard, I suppose.'
'Indeed. I remember running into Horace my first year as a staff member. And he did try to give me detention. He'd completely forgotten I was no longer a student.'
Neville tried to imagine a young and indignant Professor McGonagall facing off with portly Professor Slughorn and couldn't quite come close.
'At any rate, I headed down this way as there appeared to be some disturbance down this corridor. Have you noticed anything amiss?'
'Disturbance?' Neville frowned. 'No -- I just came by on my way down to the greenhouses. I must have got turned around. I don't think I meant to come through here exactly.'
'Hmm.' Professor McGonagall stepped past him and examined the corridor. 'There is a new door here.'
'What?'Neville turned his head sharply. His jaw dropped open as his gaze fell upon a simple brown door that had not been there a minute ago.
It can't be ...
Nevertheless he reached out for the doorknob, his fingers trembling. It is ...
The smell of ashes hit his nose first. It engulfed him, setting him coughing violently. He felt a strong thumping on his back, followed by a wheezing sort of noise. It was a while before he could breathe normally and properly take in his surroundings.
He and Professor McGonagall were in a small round room with walls painted black. Or rather, they were covered with black soot, as Neville discovered when he put a finger out to touch them. He could feel a sort of excitement bubbling up -- not within him, but seeming to come from the atmosphere itself around him.
'Goodness!' said Professor McGonagall. 'Is this what I think it is?'
'The Room of Requirement,' said Neville. And then, wonderingly, 'I thought it was destroyed!'
'Evidently not. It does not, however, seem to be functioning correctly. Although I believe you would be a better judge of that.'
Neville didn't really know how to check. He'd wanted to see the Room and it'd popped up. He hadn't really needed it for anything in particular. He tried to think of something he did need that the Room might be able to provide, to prove it was still working.
His thoughts wandered back to the Galleon in his pocket and his earlier musings. Something to remember ...
The walls around them started to swirl. Neville had the strangest feeling of being plunged into a fog. When it cleared, they no longer appeared to be in the present -- at least not the present as they knew it. The scene unfolding before them, however, was extremely familiar ...
+++
The Room has taken on the shape of a small auditorium, with a raised platform on one end and rows of seats filling the rest of it. The three students -- two girls and a boy -- exchange a look among them.
'All right,' says Ginny, 'who was thinking about giving a speech.'
'I was thinking you might do it,' says Luna serenely. 'People listen to you.'
Neville shakes his head. 'We're all in this together, remember.' He glances at the stage. 'Anyway, we don't need any of this now. We're only planning.' All the furniture vanishes, replaced by a triangular table with three chairs. 'What we need,' he says meaningfully, 'is for no one to be able to find us.'
They each take a chair. One of them must have required quill and parchment because that appears readily on the table. Ginny pushes it towards Luna.
'You write; you have the nicest handwriting.'
Luna accepts this without comment, touching the end of the quill briefly to her chin before writing at the top of the parchment, Dumbledore's Army. And below, their names: Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood.
'That's good,' says Ginny, looking over Luna's shoulder. 'We can start with who we can call back.'
They start by listing the full Army from two years back, although Luna has to cancel out the names of those who have already left the school (and Zacharias Smith's, whose inclusion Ginny vehemently opposes -- 'I don't trust him one bit!'). That leaves them with fifteen names.
'It's a good start,' says Neville. He then pinches the bridge of his nose worriedly. 'This is going to be worse than Umbridge, though. I don't know if they'll all ...'
'Only one way to find out,' says Ginny, holding up a gold coin.
+++
The Room is set up as an auditorium again and this time the seats are filled with what appears to be more than fifteen others. Neville stands on the stage with Ginny and Luna on either side, wetting his lips periodically as he watches students troop through the doors. At last he counts twenty students, not including the three of them.
'There's more of you than I thought,' he says.
'I hope you don't mind extra help,' Demelza Robins calls back.
Neville laughs, more at ease now. 'No, of course not.' He addresses the crowd again. 'I reckon you all know why we're here, then.'
'Well, it's like fifth year, isn't it?' says Ernie Macmillan. 'Except the stakes are higher now.'
Susan Bones backs him up. 'Umbridge at least had some limits. The Carrows ... don't.'
'But what do we do?' Michael Corner looks baleful. 'Bones is right -- you can't be thinking that they'll be playing fair.'
Shudders go round the group.
'And what good can we do?' adds Lavender Brown bleakly. 'The Ministry's given in. Dumbledore's dead. Harry's on the run. We've lost.'
'Daddy says,' Luna begins thoughtfully, 'that you can't make someone believe something they don't want to.'
Lavender looks confused and Michael clearly thinks Luna is crazy, but the mood in the room seems to shift away from despair.
'She's right,' Neville says. 'They can pretend they have control but as long as we don't give in, they haven't won. And I believe Harry's coming back. He'll be back to fight for us when he can and I intend to be ready.'
Ginny gives him a glowing look, her chin coming up as she faces the sea of faces with varied expressions -- scared, defiant, uncertain.
'I know it's not going to be easy and I don't blame any of you who want to back out and stay safe,' continues Neville. 'You can leave now if you like. I won't hold it against anyone.'
'As long as you're not planning to turn us in,' Ginny puts in quickly.
They wait, but no one moves. Lavender's eyes shift towards the door and back to Neville, then seem to harden with resolve.
To everyone's surprise, it is Hannah Abbott who stands and brandishes a piece of parchment and a quill. With fierce determination, she signs her name so hard it seems to leave a sizzling streak.
'I'm fighting,' she says, and holds both parchment and quill out for the next person.
By the time it goes round the room, there are twenty-three signatures on that piece of parchment. No spells are cast, but the feeling of comradeship hangs in the air.
+++
The decorations the Room provides are pumpkin-themed: orange streamers with little green flaps at the ends, orange-tints to the ceiling, light orange walls (though that could be due to the light filtering out from the giant pumpkin-shaped lamps hanging down).
'Blimey,' says Neville when he arrives. 'What's this about?'
Luna considers the decor. 'I think it means us to have a party after our duelling session.'
It's absurd to think that the Room could mean for them to do anything, but a party's actually not a bad idea to dispel the gloom that's been hanging over them since Amycus Carrow started introducing the Cruciatus Curse into his lessons.
It turns out to be just the thing they need. They make a game of today's duelling session, imposing forfeits and dares. Colin's camera makes an appearance but mostly they're laughing too hard to be annoyed when he clicks away, capturing their absurd poses. Seamus dares Michael and Terry to sneak them a feast from the kitchens and to everyone's surprise, the cautious Ravenclaws gamely take him up on it.
Thankfully they return twenty minutes later, unscathed and gloating good-naturedly at Seamus, and accompanied by a house-elf with a hamper.
The presence of food livens up all their spirits even more. All thoughts of duelling are brushed aside as everyone descends eagerly upon the food hamper.
'This is a wonderful idea, Neville,' says Hannah appreciatively.
'I didn't think of it.'
'Oh?'
Neville smiles. 'I think the Room figured we needed to relax ... and it provided.'
+++
The tension in the Room could be cut with a knife. Six pairs of eyes are glaring at one pale, brown-haired girl; everyone else is avoiding all eye contact. To her credit, Daphne Greengrass meets the hostile stares with unwavering green eyes.
'What are you doing here?' demands Romilda aggressively. A latecomer to the group herself, she's become one of their fiercest champions once she committed her loyalty. Now she looks ready to spit fire at this unwelcome intruder. Colin's fingers close around her elbow, cautioning her.
Daphne holds up her hands, a gesture of peace. 'I'm not here to spy, if that's what you're thinking.' She looks around the room. 'You guys haven't got a Slytherin.'
'Fancy that,' says Parvati in an undertone.
'I'm not blind, you know. I've seen the signs -- Dumbledore's Army, still recruiting ... I could be of use, if you'd let me join.'
Everyone in the room seems to suck in a collective breath. Finally, Ernie asks the question running through all their minds.
'How do we know we can trust you?'
Daphne's eyes flicker towards Terry Boot, a touch of colour rising in the fair skin of her cheeks.
'I should have told you,' mutters Terry, stepping forward. 'She caught me on a raid. She didn't turn me in -- gave me an excuse when the Carrows showed up, in fact.'
All eyes are on the pair of them, both the same shade of red now, causing everyone to wonder exactly what this excuse Terry's mentioned is.
'The Room,' says Neville suddenly. 'She shouldn't have been able to get in if she intended to give us away. It won't open for anyone with the slightest allegiance to the Carrows or Snape.'
This new perspective causes everyone to relax visibly. Neville feels a little disconcerted by the way the others seem to defer to his judgement, albeit with a few disgruntled faces, but he's glad his nod to Daphne seems to settle things.
+++
The Room sees a lot less laughter from the students who return after Christmas. With one of their number gone, the mood of that first DA meeting is dismal. Luna wasn't a leader in the sense that Neville and Ginny were, but in many ways she was an integral part of the group, with her belief that anything was possible and her tenacious resilience in the face of the Carrows' threats.
They've made good on those threats now and Luna is no longer around to lend her quiet strength to the resistance.
'She must be alive, though,' says Neville resolutely. 'They want her father to shut up. They need her alive for that.'
'Didn't they take her father, too?' Lavender glares at Ginny. 'You said-'
'So at least they're with each other,' Ginny says firmly.
'Is it true their house got blown up?' Romilda is strangely timid. Colin Creevey pats her shoulder comfortingly.
'We don't know how it happened. Maybe Mr Lovegood exploded everything so they couldn't take over his printing press.'
Ginny opens her mouth to say something, but at a warning look from Neville, closes it without uttering a sound.
'We have to show them we're not going to be put down so easily either!'
Murmurs of agreement, slowly growing stronger, follow this declaration. Colin's statement has managed to shift the mood out of helplessness, towards defiance. The others don't need the truth to weigh them down. They don't need to know what Neville and Ginny do: that strewn about the debris of the Lovegood house were freshly printed copies of The Quibbler bearing Harry's wanted poster on the first page.
He's starting to realise that this is what it means to be a leader -- to shoulder the weight of extra burdens, to be stronger than the others so that he can keep them strong.
+++
One of the needs of Dumbledore's Army is news from the outside world -- real news, not the garbage printed in the Daily Prophet -- and of course, the Room of Requirement provides. A dusty wireless appears periodically in the Room whenever there is news to be had. Nobody has been able to figure out how the Room knows Potterwatch will be on, but thanks to it, they've been able to tune in to every broadcast since Ginny first alerted them to it.
The news is hardly cheerful -- in fact, the first segment, which has everyone's hearts pounding as they wait for the names of the latest casualties to be revealed, is always bleak. Still, it is better than not knowing.
It isn't difficult to identify the voices broadcasting the programme. For most of them, Lee Jordan was a familiar feature of every Quidditch match in their earlier Hogwarts years. And no one can mistake the kindly voice of Professor Lupin, a regular on the show.
It gives them heart to know that outside, people are fighting, too. Neville thinks he understands now why the Ministry, whether under Fudge or the Death Eaters, has always kept the media under a tight rein. Pockets of resistance are harmless if they are disconnected, unable to communicate and co-ordinate their plans with each other.
Neville fingers his DA Galleon thoughtfully. Hermione was brilliant to think those up. This year, Terry and Padma managed not only to reproduce the Protean Charm on additional coins for new members, but also to modify the existing charm to allow any of them to send out messages to the rest. As a result, they've been able to plot right under the Carrows' noses.
Potterwatch reminds Neville that there are DA members outside of Hogwarts, though, and he wonders if they could be brought into the loop, too. When the fighting begins -- and Neville has a strange feeling that it won't be long before Harry returns for them -- they will need as many people as they can get.
'Ginny,' he whispers, 'we need a way to get connected to those on the outside. A way like the Galleons -- safe, you know.'
She nods. 'I mentioned that to them over Christmas. Lee's been trying to broadcast hints to the DA members out there. Telling them to hold on to their Galleons.'
'Yes, I've heard that. But we're going to need something more, don't you think? Make sure all their Galleons can function the way ours do now.'
'I passed one of the new Galleons on to the twins ...'
'Can they get to everyone who's on our side, though?'
Ginny considers this for a moment, then calls Terry over. As she asks him to teach her the charm so she can perform it and pass it on to her brothers when she goes home at Easter, Neville suddenly feels winded at the idea that he is actually preparing to organise a full-scale rebellion against Death Eaters -- no, against You-Know-Who himself when the time comes.
How, he marvels, did I get to this point?
+++
If losing Luna was a disaster, the loss of Ginny is almost a full-out catastrophe. Since receiving her message over the Easter break --H, R & H spotted, all safe. In hiding, can't say where. Can't return. -- most of them don't know whether to be invigorated by the mention of Harry or crushed at the thought that even the Weasleys have been driven into hiding.
After the holidays, the Carrows seem to be in spectacularly bad moods. Rumour has it that something went terribly wrong for the Death Eaters over Easter. Neville thinks it must be something to do with news of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
'They've done something,' he assures the DA. 'That's why the Death Eaters are all edgy. Harry's hurt them. It won't be long now.'
They agree that they need to be cautious. It's more dangerous to go on with their usual activities now, with the Carrows' tempers in rare form. A first-year Ravenclaw got chained up by his ankles for half a day before Michael managed to release him. No one ever found out what the first-year’s offence was -- by the time they rescued a bashed-up Michael from Alecto and get him safely to the Room, none of them really cared about anything but keeping him alive and getting him healed.
It's quiet in the Room, which has taken on an infirmary-like appearance. Neville and Ernie lay Michael carefully on a bed with crackling white sheets. The blood seeps into them quickly, staining them a rusty red. Hannah and Parvati burst through the door moments later, bearing armloads of potions.
'Oh God,' says Parvati, sounding close to tears. 'Michael.'
Hannah moves briskly to his side, her face a mask belying whatever horror she might be feeling. Neville has to admire her efficiency as she tips a colourless potion through his half-parted lips. Parvati pulls herself together quickly to give Hannah a hand, while Ernie runs a series of charms to clean and stitch up Michael's wounds as adeptly as a trained Healer.
Neville, who is less skilled than the three of them and knows it, steps back and lets them work in peace. After a moment Hannah joins him. Her face is open and scared now. Neville can feel the tremors running through her body when he claps a hand on her shoulder.
'This is the worst they've ever -- Neville, they nearly killed him. What's happening?'
'I don't know.'
She runs a hand across her eyes, swiping at tears. On impulse, Neville hugs her. 'Don't worry,' he says. 'Harry's coming back. He'll end this.'
Hannah pulls away and stares at him. 'Never mind Harry,' she says. 'You're here. We trust you.'
+++
Neville's hair is still sizzling from the near miss of Amycus's curse when he bangs open the door and slams it hard behind him.
I need a safe place to hide from the Carrows and anyone else who wants to get me.
He rests his head against the wall, breathing heavily in part from the exertion of his mad dash through the corridors, in part from the heady rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He's had a lucky escape -- he's known it was only a matter of time before they came after him, but he still counted too much on their reluctance to make away with a pure-blood.
Stupid. You know what they're like these days.
Outside, he hears footsteps pounding past in the corridor. He can only hope that Amycus doesn't go after an innocent student when he finds that he's lost Neville.
Once his breath steadies, Neville turns around and has a proper look at the Room. It reminds him of a cross between the Gryffindor common room and his dormitory. There's a wide hammock swinging lazily in one corner that nevertheless looks as welcoming as his four-poster would be, a comfy-looking armchair gracing the other side of the room, and a fuzzy red-and-gold rug beneath his feet. Neville kicks off his shoes and sinks into the armchair with a grateful sigh.
'Thanks,' he murmurs to the Room. 'I guess it's going to be a while, then.'
+++
The atmosphere is the castle is so highly charged, it's hardly surprising when the thunder breaks.
It begins with a Potterwatch broadcast -- an extraordinary episode where halfway through Pals of Potter, someone interrupts, yelling about Harry Potter, Gringotts, and a dragon. By the time the full story comes out, the whole Room is in an uproar.
'He robbed Gringotts!'
'A dragon!'
'Blimey!'
'I reckon someone's got to tell the rest of the school,' says Terry, a wild light in his eyes. Before anyone can stop him, he's dashed out of the door.
'The fool!' gasps Susan. 'Stop him!'
Seamus and Anthony rush for the door. It has to widen to accommodate them as they both sprint out at the same time.
None of them get off unscathed -- Terry and Anthony are heavily bruised, limping, and supporting Seamus between them. The latter looks nearly as bad as Michael after his run-in with Alecto weeks before. Daphne is with them, swearing colourfully and calling them barmy idiots with no sense of self-preservation.
'Worth -- it,' gasps Terry. 'They know -- something's -- up now.'
'I expect this kind of idiocy from Gryffindors, honestly.'
'Oi,' croaks Seamus. 'Watch it.'
Less than a day later, the big moment Neville's been waiting for all year arrives. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are here. You-Know-Who is coming. They've known it was coming. Neville's maintained time and again that today would come. But how do you prepare yourself fully for a battle which might very well be to the death?
They're not ready.
And yet, somehow they are.
+++
Neville watched the figures march out of the Room. His seventeen-year-old self, looking stoic and determined. Hannah, her eyes blazing. Ernie, his steps steadfast and sure. Seamus, barely recovered from his injury but fierce and raring to go all the same. Dean, hand-in-hand with Luna. Susan, Michael, Lavender ... and so many others, many of whom he would never again see alive. Neville couldn't help reaching his hand out to them. But they were fading now, their forms becoming misty and unsubstantial. When he tried to touch Colin, his arm felt only air.
And then they were gone. The Room was still, quiet except for the ragged sound of his and Professor McGonagall's breathing. When Neville felt that he had composed himself enough to look at her, he saw that she was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
'I didn't know the Room could do that,' he said as steadily as he could.
Professor McGonagall shook her head. 'Neither did I. Although it makes sense that it could transfigure itself into a Pensieve if required.'
'Is that what it was?'
'Those were, I gather, your memories.'
'Well, yes. Although of late, they've never been so ... distinct.'
'As is natural,' said Professor McGonagall. 'However, it is possible that this Room may have its memories, too. It appears that you made quite the home of it that year.'
'I did wonder before if it was ... alive, somehow.'
'I never did have the chance to study this Room in depth. My theories are purely based on conversations I've had with other users of the Room; Hermione Granger -- or rather, Hermione Weasley -- for one, who has some very interesting ideas of her own. Its functioning mechanism appears to be much like that of a Boggart.'
Neville tried to refresh his memory. He hadn't dealt with a Boggart in ages. 'They are destroyed by laughter, aren't they? How does that tie in with how the Room works?'
'When a Boggart is dispelled, it vanishes -- goes into non-being, which is to say, everything. It is as of yet unknown how Boggarts return to being. Then again, nobody really knows what a Boggart looks like when no one is around. We may never completely understand what the Room is, or what happened to it between then and now. I believe that your chances of deciphering its mysteries are considerably higher than any of ours, however.'
'I ...' His first response was to object and point out that he was hardly well-grounded in magical theory. He had barely followed Professor McGonagall's explanation and he definitely didn't understand most of the stuff Hermione researched. His expertise was, after all, Herbology.
But there was no mistaking the sense of affiliation he felt for the Room, which seemed to be exuding a sense of contentment. Was it too far-fetched to think that it had come back for him?
'You have done great things here. You are a part of its history. I have always felt,' mused Professor McGonagall, 'that Hogwarts remembers. And we will need people who do, too. I would hope after all that the lessons we pass on consist of more than mere skill.'
Remember ... remember ... the ghosts of the Room seemed to whisper in the background. Do not let us be forgotten.
I won't, Neville replied silently, thinking of young heroes standing bravely together, and then of the students who would be filling the school soon.
Professor McGonagall smiled at him. 'Hogwarts is lucky to have you back ... Professor Longbottom.'
Author: shiiki
Recipient: kerrymdb
Character(s): Neville Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall, various members of Dumbledore’s Army
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 5,604 words
Warnings (highlight to view): none
Summary: The Room of Requirement has been dormant for ten years. However, Neville’s return to Hogwarts seems to be the catalyst it needs to revive … and relive some very powerful memories.
Author's Notes: Much love to my awesome betas! I hope you enjoy this, kerrymdb!
Betas: magglenagall, magikcat112, and st_dl
Recapturing Memories
Neville stood before the great oak doors, his heart pounding slightly. It was silly to be nervous, really, but he couldn't shake the memory of standing on this very step so many years ago, clutching Trevor in his palms and trembling as he waited with his peers for the doors to open.
He shook his head at himself and raised his hand to knock.
As she had on that long-ago occasion, Minerva McGonagall opened the doors to receive him. Only unlike then, a smile crept across her face at the sight of Neville.
'Ah,' she said, 'we've been waiting for you.'
'Professor McGonagall,' said Neville with an answering smile. 'I didn't expect you'd still be here.'
'I believe it would be quite inhospitable of me to leave before properly welcoming the newest addition to our staff. And,' she added sternly, 'I do believe we had a chat about names. It would be silly to continue to address me as "Professor" after I've resigned my post.'
'Of course -- Minerva.' The last word came out as little more than a whisper. Even with her permission -- even at her request -- it was incredibly strange to call her by name.
Professor-Minerva smiled. 'It gets easier, as I remember. Come -- the house-elves will see to your bags.'
He followed her along the main corridor; again the similarity to his first year was not lost on him. It had been ten years since the last time he'd set foot in Hogwarts, but that wasn't enough to make him forget the way to the Great Hall. He wondered whimsically if a Welcome Feast were awaiting him. But no, surely they didn't do that for new staff ... did they?
'SURPRISE!'
The roar of fireworks caught him unawares. Neville jumped and gaped at the brilliant sparks lighting up the ceiling of the Great Hall. They were Weasley products, by the looks of it, giant blinking formations gambolling above his head as they fizzed and crackled. He distinctly spotted a red and gold lion cavorting with a majestic orange bear, which made him grin.
When they died away, he found himself facing the entire contingent of Hogwarts staff, all beaming and clapping.
'Welcome!' said Professor Flitwick. 'Welcome, my dear boy!'
Neville felt his cheeks turn rosy red with pleasure. 'T-thank you,' he managed. 'This is -- a surprise. A Welcome Feast wasn't exactly in the job description.'
The Hogwarts teachers -- and he was one of them now, a voice in his head reminded him faintly -- laughed heartily.
'Professor Longbottom!' Professor -- no, now she was Headmistress -- Sprout raised a glass to him. 'I hope you'll have a happy time with us!'
The party went on for quite a while. It put Neville in mind of many post-Quidditch victory parties that had been held in the Gryffindor common room. He couldn't help wondering if the teachers had had their own parties in the staff room while he was at school. It was a thought as foreign as the idea of himself as 'Professor Longbottom'. He had better get used to that quickly, though. Term began in a week and it wouldn't do for him to be as nervous and fidgety as a first-year in his first class!
Late in the night, with the party over and Neville comfortably settled in his new quarters, the nostalgia started to sink in.
The last time he'd actually lived in the castle had been a decade ago, in a long year of terror and rebellion. After the war, he'd helped with the rebuilding process over the summer, of course, but following that, between working with the Aurors in the first five years and researching exotic plants in the next five, he hadn't had cause to revisit Hogwarts and the old memories.
His room was on one of the higher floors, in the same wing that housed Gryffindor Tower. Neville suspected that Sprout -- he would have to practise calling her Pomona -- intended for him eventually to take over from Bernard Weatherby, the current Potions master, as Head of Gryffindor. That would be several years off though; he wouldn't worry too much about it now.
His one window overlooked the greenhouses. It was dark so he couldn't see much of it except for the glint of glass in the moonlight. As he stared out over the grounds, however, he fancied he could almost see the pale ghosts of yesterday drifting about -- tiny figures darting about in the heat of battle, wispy Patronuses charging against the edge of the forest, faint flashes of colours signifying the spells thrown about ...
Neville shivered and moved away from the window. His fingers reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out the golden coin that he always carried with him.
His DA Galleon. The spell that linked all the coins was still active, although they mostly used it to organise reunions these days. Neville had added something to his Galleon, though: engraved in miniscule letters on the face of the coin, under the changeable numbers, were the names of every single one of his friends who had not made it through the war.
Not that he needed it. He knew those names by heart. Neville let them run through his mind as he traced his coin. However, his memories of the people they'd been were getting fuzzy around the edges. It was a struggle to recall the way they'd looked, the exact things they'd done -- something which always made him feel guilty. Logically he knew that ten years was a long time to hold something in his mind with perfect clarity, and his memory had never been first-class to begin with. Nevertheless he couldn't help feeling that he'd failed them somehow. He sighed, knowing that whenever he tried to make himself remember, sleep usually ended up a long way off.
Maybe he should make a visit to the greenhouses and say hello to his plants. In the past five years, he'd done much travelling and collecting of foreign flora, which he'd readily sent back to Spr-Pomona. He'd amassed most of the current Hogwarts collection.
Neville threw on a cloak and lit his wand, hoping he still remembered the school well enough not to get turned round in the dark.
Two corridors down, he stopped, uncertain. He was in a long, nondescript corridor with blank walls which looked both strange and familiar at the same time. It was a moment before he could put a finger on it. He knew this corridor -- something in him definitely recognised the curve and shape of it -- but it had definitely changed. Didn't there use to be a ... tapestry of some sort hanging on the wall just there?
Neville closed his eyes and dug up the mental picture of a blackened picture that used to be ... ballet-dancing trolls?
His eyes shot open. Yes, he knew this corridor. Ten years ago he'd come fleeing down it, needing to reach his safe haven before the Carrows caught him.
They'd searched for the Room during the rebuilding of Hogwarts. Only the badly burnt troll tapestry had been found; they had practically paced a hole through the corridor floor, but no matter how hard anyone wished or wanted, the door had never turned up. Charred artefacts had turned up all over the school for a time -- including a mangled corpse Draco Malfoy had identified as Vincent Crabbe -- and Harry, Ron, and Hermione had admitted that they'd last seen the Room burnt to a crisp by Fiendfyre. The burnt items had stopped appearing a month later and still there was no sign of the Room. The general consensus was that it had been irreversibly destroyed.
Neville didn't really think that anything would appear, but it didn't stop him from wishing as he walked past that he could just see it again. He owed the Room his life, after all.
He walked on to the end of the corridor and found two bright green eyes staring at him out of the shadows.
'Blimey!' he yelped before realising that it was a cat -- a cat with square spectacle markings about its keen eyes. That was all Neville had time to notice; the cat suddenly disappeared and Professor McGonagall was standing before him.
'There's no need to look like that, Longbottom,' she said, sounding amused. 'You are well within your rights to be wandering about after hours.'
He bit back his first instinct -- to mumble 'sorry, Professor' -- and pointed out instead, 'I believe we had an agreement on names, M-Minerva?'
Professor McGonagall laughed. 'I apologise, Neville. You did look very much as though you were expecting points to be taken.'
'Old habits die hard, I suppose.'
'Indeed. I remember running into Horace my first year as a staff member. And he did try to give me detention. He'd completely forgotten I was no longer a student.'
Neville tried to imagine a young and indignant Professor McGonagall facing off with portly Professor Slughorn and couldn't quite come close.
'At any rate, I headed down this way as there appeared to be some disturbance down this corridor. Have you noticed anything amiss?'
'Disturbance?' Neville frowned. 'No -- I just came by on my way down to the greenhouses. I must have got turned around. I don't think I meant to come through here exactly.'
'Hmm.' Professor McGonagall stepped past him and examined the corridor. 'There is a new door here.'
'What?'Neville turned his head sharply. His jaw dropped open as his gaze fell upon a simple brown door that had not been there a minute ago.
It can't be ...
Nevertheless he reached out for the doorknob, his fingers trembling. It is ...
The smell of ashes hit his nose first. It engulfed him, setting him coughing violently. He felt a strong thumping on his back, followed by a wheezing sort of noise. It was a while before he could breathe normally and properly take in his surroundings.
He and Professor McGonagall were in a small round room with walls painted black. Or rather, they were covered with black soot, as Neville discovered when he put a finger out to touch them. He could feel a sort of excitement bubbling up -- not within him, but seeming to come from the atmosphere itself around him.
'Goodness!' said Professor McGonagall. 'Is this what I think it is?'
'The Room of Requirement,' said Neville. And then, wonderingly, 'I thought it was destroyed!'
'Evidently not. It does not, however, seem to be functioning correctly. Although I believe you would be a better judge of that.'
Neville didn't really know how to check. He'd wanted to see the Room and it'd popped up. He hadn't really needed it for anything in particular. He tried to think of something he did need that the Room might be able to provide, to prove it was still working.
His thoughts wandered back to the Galleon in his pocket and his earlier musings. Something to remember ...
The walls around them started to swirl. Neville had the strangest feeling of being plunged into a fog. When it cleared, they no longer appeared to be in the present -- at least not the present as they knew it. The scene unfolding before them, however, was extremely familiar ...
+++
The Room has taken on the shape of a small auditorium, with a raised platform on one end and rows of seats filling the rest of it. The three students -- two girls and a boy -- exchange a look among them.
'All right,' says Ginny, 'who was thinking about giving a speech.'
'I was thinking you might do it,' says Luna serenely. 'People listen to you.'
Neville shakes his head. 'We're all in this together, remember.' He glances at the stage. 'Anyway, we don't need any of this now. We're only planning.' All the furniture vanishes, replaced by a triangular table with three chairs. 'What we need,' he says meaningfully, 'is for no one to be able to find us.'
They each take a chair. One of them must have required quill and parchment because that appears readily on the table. Ginny pushes it towards Luna.
'You write; you have the nicest handwriting.'
Luna accepts this without comment, touching the end of the quill briefly to her chin before writing at the top of the parchment, Dumbledore's Army. And below, their names: Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood.
'That's good,' says Ginny, looking over Luna's shoulder. 'We can start with who we can call back.'
They start by listing the full Army from two years back, although Luna has to cancel out the names of those who have already left the school (and Zacharias Smith's, whose inclusion Ginny vehemently opposes -- 'I don't trust him one bit!'). That leaves them with fifteen names.
'It's a good start,' says Neville. He then pinches the bridge of his nose worriedly. 'This is going to be worse than Umbridge, though. I don't know if they'll all ...'
'Only one way to find out,' says Ginny, holding up a gold coin.
+++
The Room is set up as an auditorium again and this time the seats are filled with what appears to be more than fifteen others. Neville stands on the stage with Ginny and Luna on either side, wetting his lips periodically as he watches students troop through the doors. At last he counts twenty students, not including the three of them.
'There's more of you than I thought,' he says.
'I hope you don't mind extra help,' Demelza Robins calls back.
Neville laughs, more at ease now. 'No, of course not.' He addresses the crowd again. 'I reckon you all know why we're here, then.'
'Well, it's like fifth year, isn't it?' says Ernie Macmillan. 'Except the stakes are higher now.'
Susan Bones backs him up. 'Umbridge at least had some limits. The Carrows ... don't.'
'But what do we do?' Michael Corner looks baleful. 'Bones is right -- you can't be thinking that they'll be playing fair.'
Shudders go round the group.
'And what good can we do?' adds Lavender Brown bleakly. 'The Ministry's given in. Dumbledore's dead. Harry's on the run. We've lost.'
'Daddy says,' Luna begins thoughtfully, 'that you can't make someone believe something they don't want to.'
Lavender looks confused and Michael clearly thinks Luna is crazy, but the mood in the room seems to shift away from despair.
'She's right,' Neville says. 'They can pretend they have control but as long as we don't give in, they haven't won. And I believe Harry's coming back. He'll be back to fight for us when he can and I intend to be ready.'
Ginny gives him a glowing look, her chin coming up as she faces the sea of faces with varied expressions -- scared, defiant, uncertain.
'I know it's not going to be easy and I don't blame any of you who want to back out and stay safe,' continues Neville. 'You can leave now if you like. I won't hold it against anyone.'
'As long as you're not planning to turn us in,' Ginny puts in quickly.
They wait, but no one moves. Lavender's eyes shift towards the door and back to Neville, then seem to harden with resolve.
To everyone's surprise, it is Hannah Abbott who stands and brandishes a piece of parchment and a quill. With fierce determination, she signs her name so hard it seems to leave a sizzling streak.
'I'm fighting,' she says, and holds both parchment and quill out for the next person.
By the time it goes round the room, there are twenty-three signatures on that piece of parchment. No spells are cast, but the feeling of comradeship hangs in the air.
+++
The decorations the Room provides are pumpkin-themed: orange streamers with little green flaps at the ends, orange-tints to the ceiling, light orange walls (though that could be due to the light filtering out from the giant pumpkin-shaped lamps hanging down).
'Blimey,' says Neville when he arrives. 'What's this about?'
Luna considers the decor. 'I think it means us to have a party after our duelling session.'
It's absurd to think that the Room could mean for them to do anything, but a party's actually not a bad idea to dispel the gloom that's been hanging over them since Amycus Carrow started introducing the Cruciatus Curse into his lessons.
It turns out to be just the thing they need. They make a game of today's duelling session, imposing forfeits and dares. Colin's camera makes an appearance but mostly they're laughing too hard to be annoyed when he clicks away, capturing their absurd poses. Seamus dares Michael and Terry to sneak them a feast from the kitchens and to everyone's surprise, the cautious Ravenclaws gamely take him up on it.
Thankfully they return twenty minutes later, unscathed and gloating good-naturedly at Seamus, and accompanied by a house-elf with a hamper.
The presence of food livens up all their spirits even more. All thoughts of duelling are brushed aside as everyone descends eagerly upon the food hamper.
'This is a wonderful idea, Neville,' says Hannah appreciatively.
'I didn't think of it.'
'Oh?'
Neville smiles. 'I think the Room figured we needed to relax ... and it provided.'
+++
The tension in the Room could be cut with a knife. Six pairs of eyes are glaring at one pale, brown-haired girl; everyone else is avoiding all eye contact. To her credit, Daphne Greengrass meets the hostile stares with unwavering green eyes.
'What are you doing here?' demands Romilda aggressively. A latecomer to the group herself, she's become one of their fiercest champions once she committed her loyalty. Now she looks ready to spit fire at this unwelcome intruder. Colin's fingers close around her elbow, cautioning her.
Daphne holds up her hands, a gesture of peace. 'I'm not here to spy, if that's what you're thinking.' She looks around the room. 'You guys haven't got a Slytherin.'
'Fancy that,' says Parvati in an undertone.
'I'm not blind, you know. I've seen the signs -- Dumbledore's Army, still recruiting ... I could be of use, if you'd let me join.'
Everyone in the room seems to suck in a collective breath. Finally, Ernie asks the question running through all their minds.
'How do we know we can trust you?'
Daphne's eyes flicker towards Terry Boot, a touch of colour rising in the fair skin of her cheeks.
'I should have told you,' mutters Terry, stepping forward. 'She caught me on a raid. She didn't turn me in -- gave me an excuse when the Carrows showed up, in fact.'
All eyes are on the pair of them, both the same shade of red now, causing everyone to wonder exactly what this excuse Terry's mentioned is.
'The Room,' says Neville suddenly. 'She shouldn't have been able to get in if she intended to give us away. It won't open for anyone with the slightest allegiance to the Carrows or Snape.'
This new perspective causes everyone to relax visibly. Neville feels a little disconcerted by the way the others seem to defer to his judgement, albeit with a few disgruntled faces, but he's glad his nod to Daphne seems to settle things.
+++
The Room sees a lot less laughter from the students who return after Christmas. With one of their number gone, the mood of that first DA meeting is dismal. Luna wasn't a leader in the sense that Neville and Ginny were, but in many ways she was an integral part of the group, with her belief that anything was possible and her tenacious resilience in the face of the Carrows' threats.
They've made good on those threats now and Luna is no longer around to lend her quiet strength to the resistance.
'She must be alive, though,' says Neville resolutely. 'They want her father to shut up. They need her alive for that.'
'Didn't they take her father, too?' Lavender glares at Ginny. 'You said-'
'So at least they're with each other,' Ginny says firmly.
'Is it true their house got blown up?' Romilda is strangely timid. Colin Creevey pats her shoulder comfortingly.
'We don't know how it happened. Maybe Mr Lovegood exploded everything so they couldn't take over his printing press.'
Ginny opens her mouth to say something, but at a warning look from Neville, closes it without uttering a sound.
'We have to show them we're not going to be put down so easily either!'
Murmurs of agreement, slowly growing stronger, follow this declaration. Colin's statement has managed to shift the mood out of helplessness, towards defiance. The others don't need the truth to weigh them down. They don't need to know what Neville and Ginny do: that strewn about the debris of the Lovegood house were freshly printed copies of The Quibbler bearing Harry's wanted poster on the first page.
He's starting to realise that this is what it means to be a leader -- to shoulder the weight of extra burdens, to be stronger than the others so that he can keep them strong.
+++
One of the needs of Dumbledore's Army is news from the outside world -- real news, not the garbage printed in the Daily Prophet -- and of course, the Room of Requirement provides. A dusty wireless appears periodically in the Room whenever there is news to be had. Nobody has been able to figure out how the Room knows Potterwatch will be on, but thanks to it, they've been able to tune in to every broadcast since Ginny first alerted them to it.
The news is hardly cheerful -- in fact, the first segment, which has everyone's hearts pounding as they wait for the names of the latest casualties to be revealed, is always bleak. Still, it is better than not knowing.
It isn't difficult to identify the voices broadcasting the programme. For most of them, Lee Jordan was a familiar feature of every Quidditch match in their earlier Hogwarts years. And no one can mistake the kindly voice of Professor Lupin, a regular on the show.
It gives them heart to know that outside, people are fighting, too. Neville thinks he understands now why the Ministry, whether under Fudge or the Death Eaters, has always kept the media under a tight rein. Pockets of resistance are harmless if they are disconnected, unable to communicate and co-ordinate their plans with each other.
Neville fingers his DA Galleon thoughtfully. Hermione was brilliant to think those up. This year, Terry and Padma managed not only to reproduce the Protean Charm on additional coins for new members, but also to modify the existing charm to allow any of them to send out messages to the rest. As a result, they've been able to plot right under the Carrows' noses.
Potterwatch reminds Neville that there are DA members outside of Hogwarts, though, and he wonders if they could be brought into the loop, too. When the fighting begins -- and Neville has a strange feeling that it won't be long before Harry returns for them -- they will need as many people as they can get.
'Ginny,' he whispers, 'we need a way to get connected to those on the outside. A way like the Galleons -- safe, you know.'
She nods. 'I mentioned that to them over Christmas. Lee's been trying to broadcast hints to the DA members out there. Telling them to hold on to their Galleons.'
'Yes, I've heard that. But we're going to need something more, don't you think? Make sure all their Galleons can function the way ours do now.'
'I passed one of the new Galleons on to the twins ...'
'Can they get to everyone who's on our side, though?'
Ginny considers this for a moment, then calls Terry over. As she asks him to teach her the charm so she can perform it and pass it on to her brothers when she goes home at Easter, Neville suddenly feels winded at the idea that he is actually preparing to organise a full-scale rebellion against Death Eaters -- no, against You-Know-Who himself when the time comes.
How, he marvels, did I get to this point?
+++
If losing Luna was a disaster, the loss of Ginny is almost a full-out catastrophe. Since receiving her message over the Easter break --H, R & H spotted, all safe. In hiding, can't say where. Can't return. -- most of them don't know whether to be invigorated by the mention of Harry or crushed at the thought that even the Weasleys have been driven into hiding.
After the holidays, the Carrows seem to be in spectacularly bad moods. Rumour has it that something went terribly wrong for the Death Eaters over Easter. Neville thinks it must be something to do with news of Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
'They've done something,' he assures the DA. 'That's why the Death Eaters are all edgy. Harry's hurt them. It won't be long now.'
They agree that they need to be cautious. It's more dangerous to go on with their usual activities now, with the Carrows' tempers in rare form. A first-year Ravenclaw got chained up by his ankles for half a day before Michael managed to release him. No one ever found out what the first-year’s offence was -- by the time they rescued a bashed-up Michael from Alecto and get him safely to the Room, none of them really cared about anything but keeping him alive and getting him healed.
It's quiet in the Room, which has taken on an infirmary-like appearance. Neville and Ernie lay Michael carefully on a bed with crackling white sheets. The blood seeps into them quickly, staining them a rusty red. Hannah and Parvati burst through the door moments later, bearing armloads of potions.
'Oh God,' says Parvati, sounding close to tears. 'Michael.'
Hannah moves briskly to his side, her face a mask belying whatever horror she might be feeling. Neville has to admire her efficiency as she tips a colourless potion through his half-parted lips. Parvati pulls herself together quickly to give Hannah a hand, while Ernie runs a series of charms to clean and stitch up Michael's wounds as adeptly as a trained Healer.
Neville, who is less skilled than the three of them and knows it, steps back and lets them work in peace. After a moment Hannah joins him. Her face is open and scared now. Neville can feel the tremors running through her body when he claps a hand on her shoulder.
'This is the worst they've ever -- Neville, they nearly killed him. What's happening?'
'I don't know.'
She runs a hand across her eyes, swiping at tears. On impulse, Neville hugs her. 'Don't worry,' he says. 'Harry's coming back. He'll end this.'
Hannah pulls away and stares at him. 'Never mind Harry,' she says. 'You're here. We trust you.'
+++
Neville's hair is still sizzling from the near miss of Amycus's curse when he bangs open the door and slams it hard behind him.
I need a safe place to hide from the Carrows and anyone else who wants to get me.
He rests his head against the wall, breathing heavily in part from the exertion of his mad dash through the corridors, in part from the heady rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He's had a lucky escape -- he's known it was only a matter of time before they came after him, but he still counted too much on their reluctance to make away with a pure-blood.
Stupid. You know what they're like these days.
Outside, he hears footsteps pounding past in the corridor. He can only hope that Amycus doesn't go after an innocent student when he finds that he's lost Neville.
Once his breath steadies, Neville turns around and has a proper look at the Room. It reminds him of a cross between the Gryffindor common room and his dormitory. There's a wide hammock swinging lazily in one corner that nevertheless looks as welcoming as his four-poster would be, a comfy-looking armchair gracing the other side of the room, and a fuzzy red-and-gold rug beneath his feet. Neville kicks off his shoes and sinks into the armchair with a grateful sigh.
'Thanks,' he murmurs to the Room. 'I guess it's going to be a while, then.'
+++
The atmosphere is the castle is so highly charged, it's hardly surprising when the thunder breaks.
It begins with a Potterwatch broadcast -- an extraordinary episode where halfway through Pals of Potter, someone interrupts, yelling about Harry Potter, Gringotts, and a dragon. By the time the full story comes out, the whole Room is in an uproar.
'He robbed Gringotts!'
'A dragon!'
'Blimey!'
'I reckon someone's got to tell the rest of the school,' says Terry, a wild light in his eyes. Before anyone can stop him, he's dashed out of the door.
'The fool!' gasps Susan. 'Stop him!'
Seamus and Anthony rush for the door. It has to widen to accommodate them as they both sprint out at the same time.
None of them get off unscathed -- Terry and Anthony are heavily bruised, limping, and supporting Seamus between them. The latter looks nearly as bad as Michael after his run-in with Alecto weeks before. Daphne is with them, swearing colourfully and calling them barmy idiots with no sense of self-preservation.
'Worth -- it,' gasps Terry. 'They know -- something's -- up now.'
'I expect this kind of idiocy from Gryffindors, honestly.'
'Oi,' croaks Seamus. 'Watch it.'
Less than a day later, the big moment Neville's been waiting for all year arrives. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are here. You-Know-Who is coming. They've known it was coming. Neville's maintained time and again that today would come. But how do you prepare yourself fully for a battle which might very well be to the death?
They're not ready.
And yet, somehow they are.
+++
Neville watched the figures march out of the Room. His seventeen-year-old self, looking stoic and determined. Hannah, her eyes blazing. Ernie, his steps steadfast and sure. Seamus, barely recovered from his injury but fierce and raring to go all the same. Dean, hand-in-hand with Luna. Susan, Michael, Lavender ... and so many others, many of whom he would never again see alive. Neville couldn't help reaching his hand out to them. But they were fading now, their forms becoming misty and unsubstantial. When he tried to touch Colin, his arm felt only air.
And then they were gone. The Room was still, quiet except for the ragged sound of his and Professor McGonagall's breathing. When Neville felt that he had composed himself enough to look at her, he saw that she was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.
'I didn't know the Room could do that,' he said as steadily as he could.
Professor McGonagall shook her head. 'Neither did I. Although it makes sense that it could transfigure itself into a Pensieve if required.'
'Is that what it was?'
'Those were, I gather, your memories.'
'Well, yes. Although of late, they've never been so ... distinct.'
'As is natural,' said Professor McGonagall. 'However, it is possible that this Room may have its memories, too. It appears that you made quite the home of it that year.'
'I did wonder before if it was ... alive, somehow.'
'I never did have the chance to study this Room in depth. My theories are purely based on conversations I've had with other users of the Room; Hermione Granger -- or rather, Hermione Weasley -- for one, who has some very interesting ideas of her own. Its functioning mechanism appears to be much like that of a Boggart.'
Neville tried to refresh his memory. He hadn't dealt with a Boggart in ages. 'They are destroyed by laughter, aren't they? How does that tie in with how the Room works?'
'When a Boggart is dispelled, it vanishes -- goes into non-being, which is to say, everything. It is as of yet unknown how Boggarts return to being. Then again, nobody really knows what a Boggart looks like when no one is around. We may never completely understand what the Room is, or what happened to it between then and now. I believe that your chances of deciphering its mysteries are considerably higher than any of ours, however.'
'I ...' His first response was to object and point out that he was hardly well-grounded in magical theory. He had barely followed Professor McGonagall's explanation and he definitely didn't understand most of the stuff Hermione researched. His expertise was, after all, Herbology.
But there was no mistaking the sense of affiliation he felt for the Room, which seemed to be exuding a sense of contentment. Was it too far-fetched to think that it had come back for him?
'You have done great things here. You are a part of its history. I have always felt,' mused Professor McGonagall, 'that Hogwarts remembers. And we will need people who do, too. I would hope after all that the lessons we pass on consist of more than mere skill.'
Remember ... remember ... the ghosts of the Room seemed to whisper in the background. Do not let us be forgotten.
I won't, Neville replied silently, thinking of young heroes standing bravely together, and then of the students who would be filling the school soon.
Professor McGonagall smiled at him. 'Hogwarts is lucky to have you back ... Professor Longbottom.'