Springfic: "The Lions of Gryffindor (1/2)" for turningleft
Title: The Lions of Gryffindor (1/2)
Author: Lyras
Recipient: turningleft
Character(s): Neville, Augusta, Frank, Alice, Dumbledore's Army, ensemble
Rating: PG-13
Word-count: 15,900
Warnings (highlight to view): Mentions of torture
Summary: Neville's seventh year at Hogwarts presents many challenges, but he is his parents' son
Author's Notes: To my recipient: I loved writing this story, so I really hope you enjoy it! A small amount of dialogue towards the end is quoted directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Thank you to the mods for organising this exchange, and to JK Rowling for creating such a wonderful world for us to play in
Betas: Thank you very much to kennahijja for an insightful beta-read! All remaining errors are my own.
The Lions of Gryffindor
1979
"Eat dung!" Alice yelled, flinging a curse to suit her words at the nearest Death Eater. When he flicked it back at her, she dived aside, rolling back upright immediately.
Stay on your feet! It was one of Moody's mantras, and damn, she wished he was here now. Her Patronus seemed to have been gone for ages, but there was no sign of help and these Death Eaters were skilful fighters. Shooting a succession of Stunning spells in the direction of her assailant, she risked a glance around at Frank. He was being edged back towards the wall of the house by two Death Eaters. She sent a Furnunculus curse into their midst and whirled back just in time to dodge a blast of green light.
"You bastard!" It wasn't the first time she'd survived an attempt at murder, but it was the closest she'd yet been to that particular curse. Fighting Death Eaters was exhausting, she decided. They had no principles and no rules, except that they were right and anyone else could go to hell.
Please let the others get here soon, she prayed with another anxious glance towards Frank. He was favouring his left side, obviously injured; they couldn't hold them off for much longer. She might only be taking on one Death Eater to Frank's two, but this was not like fighting anyone she'd ever encountered before. He was so fast that he seemed to skim over the ground; either he was Apparating ridiculously quickly or he was flying. She hadn't decided which, but it made him extremely awkward to duel with, and having all her magic turned against her with apparent ease was disconcerting, to say the least.
Her Patronus loped into view, and she realised that her prayer had been answered even before several Order members burst into the garden. The Death Eaters were outnumbered now, and apparently uninterested in risking their lives - at least, not when the deaths were theirs. They turned quickly and Disapparated before the Prewetts and Sirius Black had done more than shoot off Stunning spells, much to the latter's disdain.
Alice kept watch, smoothing the shaggy mane of her Patronus as it faded, while Sirius reassured the family inside the house. Meanwhile, the Prewetts and Frank set up charms that would deflect attention from the area if the Death Eaters decided to return on another night.
Only when they were preparing to leave did she turn and vomit into a rosebush at the end of garden. Frank held her hair back and cleaned up while the others kept a sympathetic distance, presumably believing that she'd been overcome by the night's events. She wouldn't have been the first among the Order of the Phoenix to have suffered in that way.
She kept her counsel until she and Frank arrived home with an hour in which to recover from their night shift with the Order and prepare for work. Frank was making cocoa and offering to report her sick to Moody when she pressed his hand against her stomach.
"I think I might need to give up night shifts for a few months."
His hand tensed on her belly. "D'you mean ...?"
She smiled wearily up at him. He was so comfortable to lean against. "Yeah. Pretty sure, anyway."
"Oh, wow." He kissed her forehead and then her lips. "Oh, wow. Oh, darling." He got down onto his knees and pulled up her blouse, staring from her belly to her face with such elation that she grinned.
"Baby, meet Dad," she instructed.
"Wow," Frank repeated. "Dad's very pleased to meet you, little lion," he murmured, and kissed her stomach. "Was that the right part? I don't even know where it grows, really."
"Feels about right," she said, "and you'll know all about where it is soon enough. I'll probably look like a house before it's out."
"You'll look beautiful," he said, straightening for a proper kiss. "Always."
* * *
1997
The mist on platform nine and three-quarters was not all caused by the train that September, and the mood was sombre. Just inside the barrier, a line of officials checked off names as people crossed. Parents clung to students of all ages with a touch of desperation. "Be careful," Neville heard one woman telling a sullen boy of about twelve. "Behave well and everything will be all right."
He turned to Gran, suddenly frantic to find the others and start the new term, however awful it looked like being. "I'd better get on. I've got to be up in the top carriage for a prefects' meeting soon."
The train's whistle drowned out his last words, and she patted his elbow. "All right, dear. Have a good term, and stick to your principles." She squeezed his hand. "Here, have this."
Neville looked down and found a faded red badge embossed with a gold 'P'.
"It was your father's," Gran said.
"Thanks." His fingers closed on it. His father's wand, his prefect's badge, his shoes that he could never fill .... Even now, he'd only been made a prefect to replace Ron and Hermione - Snape's letter had been quite clear about that.
"I was proud of him when he was made a prefect," Gran said, adding abruptly, "It's a real achievement, Neville." She kissed his cheek and was gone in a whirl of black robes, leaving him staring after her.
"Neville!" He turned to find Ginny waving from the door of a carriage. "We've got room in here."
Relieved and pleased, he lugged his trunk up the steps and stowed it in the luggage area, greeting the occupants of the compartment in between puffs of effort. "Hi, Ginny. Hi, Luna. Good holidays?"
There was a brief silence, during which Neville reflected on the thoughtlessness of his question.
"Oh, yes," Ginny said brightly. "Absolutely wonderful, except for the part where my brother's wedding got crashed by Death Eaters looking for Harry."
"Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "That was a really stupid thing to say. Wasn't thinking. I heard about the attack - was everyone all right?"
"Most people got away in time," she answered. "I think they might have had a go at Dad, except that the presence of all my hulking brothers put them off." She hunched over, head on one elbow. "One of the few times I've been pleased to have so many older brothers."
"What about Harry?" He lowered his voice on the last word and glanced at the compartment door to check that it was shut properly.
She shrugged, looking even more closed up than usual. "He was fine a week after Bill's wedding. Someone we know saw him. We've heard nothing since then."
"He'll be all right." Neville had thought a lot about Harry since he had been proclaimed a wanted man by the Ministry of Magic. "He's always done amazing things. If anyone can survive, it's Harry."
Ginny's stiff features relaxed. "I agree. He'll be fine. I'm proud of him."
"Oh, yes, Harry will have to be very careful," put in Luna, who had been rummaging in her bag. She placed a copy of The Quibbler on the table and sat opposite Neville. "But he has Ronald and Hermione to help him, and that makes me feel much better."
Ginny's jaw dropped. "Um ... Ron's ... ill. He's got spattergroit."
"Well, I understand that's what you have to tell people," Luna said calmly, "but I doubt he'd let Harry and Hermione go far without him. And my father says Hermione's on the list of Muggle-borns who are unaccounted for."
"She wrote to me," Neville offered, "to say her family was moving to Australia." Both girls looked at him and he lowered his gaze. "But I didn't believe her. Although of course, I'll tell people that - help put the story about."
"All right," Ginny said wearily. "Harry was staying with us until the wedding, and when the Death Eaters attacked, he, Ron and Hermione went on the run. But you can't tell anyone!" She scowled. "If Harry or any of my family suffers because you know, I'll hex you to the back of beyond."
Someone banged on the carriage door and they all jumped. Ernie Macmillan put his head into the compartment. "Hullo, you three. Everything all right? Just wanted to say that the prefects are meeting in the end carriage in half an hour, so you'd better start heading along soon. Had good holidays?" He shut the door without waiting for an answer, leaving them staring after him.
"Yeah, great," Ginny said after a moment. "Er, are we all prefects?"
Neville nodded, and Luna said, "It's exciting, isn't it? Daddy gave me lots of advice about shouldering my responsibilities. He feels it's vital for people to stand up to the tyranny of the Ministry of Magic, and he thinks that being a prefect will give me the chance to influence people at Hogwarts in that respect."
"Well," said Neville when he'd untangled this speech, "it'll give us an excuse to be out of bounds, things like that. And yeah, you're completely right. We need to set an example for everyone else. Remember what Harry was like with Umbridge two years ago? He never accepted her lies, just kept standing up for the truth. And that's what gave people the courage to defy her. I think that's what we've got to do this year if Snape tries anything, or these two new professors he's appointed."
"The Carrows," Ginny said. "We've met them already. At the end of last term." At Neville's blank look, she shrugged. "They were two of those Death Eaters Malfoy let in."
"Yes, Amycus and Alecto," Luna said. "Daddy wrote an article on them in this month's edition - hang on a sec." She flipped the pages over; Neville glimpsed Harry's face at the head of one article. "Here we go. 'Both Amycus and Alecto have unimpressive pasts, although little is known about their professional experience since they left Hogwarts thirty years ago. Amycus has been known to the Ministry of Magic's Auror department for many years, but no connection with the Death Eaters has ever been proven. Nevertheless, an unnamed source in the Auror department told me that both Carrows are believed to have links with Voldemort, and Harry Potter named them as being present during Albus Dumbledore's recent murder. While her brother appears to have subsisted on petty crime, Alecto claims to have been working as a private tutor. However, she declined to provide names of families whose children she has taught.'" Luna looked up. "Daddy thinks they're going to be the worst teachers we've ever had."
"They don't sound like much," Neville said. But then, he thought, Umbridge hadn't been up to much, either, and she had made life miserable for most people at Hogwarts.
"Anyway," Ginny said, "we can worry about those two when we get to school. There's something else I want to talk to you about." She looked excited and a little shy; Neville had the impression that she'd been planning this speech for a while.
"Go on," he said.
She looked around to check that she had their attention. "Harry's got to kill You-Know-Who."
Neville sighed and nodded. It was the sort of thing he expected Harry to do after all this time. Hadn't it been coming to this for most of their lives?
"Yes, I thought he might have to," Luna said.
If Ginny had hoped to drop a bombshell, she wasted no time over it fizzling. "So, I was thinking about things that might help. And what do we have at Hogwarts that can be used as a weapon against V- him?
Weapon? Neville thought for a minute. There were plenty of dangerous plants, but he didn't see how any of them could hurt Voldemort directly. He was thinking back through his school years when Luna provided the answer.
"Gryffindor's sword."
Ginny nodded, eyes gleaming. "Harry's already used it once - it came out of the Sorting Hat when he rescued me from Slytherin's Chamber. He killed the basilisk with it."
"So, you think we should, what, steal it?" asked Neville. "I'm not saying that's impossible, but - what do we do with it after that?"
"We'll work that out later," Ginny said impatiently. "The important thing is to get it. We've got to help Harry!"
* * *
1980
Alice lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes. The mediwizards could patch her up physically but they could do nothing about the exhaustion; her body would have to recover from that in its own time.
It was the first time since they'd laid the baby in her arms that she'd put him down - so whole and perfect and real, all that personality wrapped up in pink, wrinkled flesh and blue eyes and a fuzz of hair and the most adorable fingers and toes.
Anyway. She'd only relaxed because Frank was nursing him right beside her, murmuring a litany of endearments. She opened one eye and watched him with weary satisfaction. He wasn't fat, but he was solid in a way that wasn't entirely to do with his shape. She'd felt that he was dependable since their early days at school, and after six years together she knew it. He looked huge with the tiny baby in the crook of his arm, but he was unbelievably gentle. He was going to make a wonderful father.
He saw her watching and grinned. "Hey, Neville," he murmured, "here's Mum keeping an eye on us." He hefted the baby around so that he was blinking at her with those perfect eyes, fringed with perfect eyelashes, in that face unblemished by worldly cares.
Alice drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.
* * *
1998
Neville considered Ginny's words as he waited for the Sorting ceremony to start. She was right, of course: if Harry was trying to kill Voldemort, they must do everything they could to help. And the Sword of Gryffindor was surely one of the best weapons to use against the man who called himself Slytherin's heir.
The Gryffindor table was subdued. On Neville's left, Seamus looked lost without Dean, and it was impossible to miss the gap left by Harry, Ron and Hermione. Most of the Muggle-borns had not returned, and it looked as if a few wizarding families had defied the edict requiring all minors to attend Hogwarts. He hoped that they were safely out of the country, and that the Muggle-borns were not languishing in Azkaban. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were similarly depleted, and there was little of the bustle and chatter that usually marked the first night feast. Only the Slytherins seemed completely confident, but Neville noticed gaps there, too.
On his right, Ginny was fiddling with her cutlery, clearly not in the mood for small talk. The prefects' meeting had been frustrating from the outset, when Malfoy had loudly derided Luna's appointment as sixth-form Ravenclaw prefect. Ginny and Neville had leapt to her defence, although Neville privately thought that she was an odd choice. Ernie's subsequent attempt to discuss the upcoming school year had been taken seriously by only about half the people present, most of whom had seemed afraid to say too much. All in all, nothing had been achieved at the meeting by anyone except Malfoy, who had made it clear that he intended to be as obnoxious as ever.
A hush spread through the hall. Professor Snape strode to the head table and took his place between a ramrod-backed McGonagall and Professor Sprout, who turned slightly away from him.
"Welcome," he said, his voice carrying without apparent effort.
A cheer erupted at the Slytherin table, continuing until Snape silenced it with a sickly smile.
"It is time for the new arrivals among us to find their places," he said. "Professor McGonagall, would you bring them in?"
Without looking at him, Professor McGonagall marched towards the entrance and called the first years inside. Neville watched sympathetically as they scurried into the Great Hall and looked around. No doubt the usual rumours had been flying.
As "Anstice, Wilhemina" stumbled towards the Sorting Hat, he wondered if everyone talked to the Hat during their Sorting, the way he had.
"Well, well," it had said when he'd sat down (and Neville had almost dropped his wand in shock), "what have we here?"
"Gryffindor, like Dad," Neville had prayed. "Please put me in Gryffindor, like my dad."
"You want Gryffindor, do you? You could go there, of course - you've plenty of grit. But are you sure you wouldn't prefer Hufflepuff? I sense a strong streak of loyalty in you, and a sensitivity that is rare in Gryffindors."
"I don't know," Neville had answered. "I'm not very brave, and I'm not clever or cunning, either. I probably belong in Hufflepuff, but I have to be in Gryffindor. It's the only house my gran rates, because that's where she was, and my mum and dad." It was a relief to unburden himself, even to a talking hat.
"Oh, well, if it's like that," the Hat had said after an interminable pause. "Gryffindor!" Neville heard cheers in the distance, and began to hurry away before the Hat changed its mind. But it was still speaking. "And remember, young man, it's what's inside you that's important, not what others expect of you. You have the makings of an exemplary Gryffindor."
"Thank you, thank you," Neville had whispered. He'd been halfway to the Gryffindor table before he'd heard the titters and realised that he was still wearing the Hat.
* * *
"So Warlock Warwick was beheaded," Malfoy read in a monotone, "and the evil witchfinder moved on to the next village, while those who had feared Warwick celebrated."
"Well?" demanded Professor Carrow, already known informally to the students as 'Alecto'. "What does this tell you?"
There was an awkward silence. Neville gazed at one of the posters that had appeared on the wall of the Muggle Studies classroom: it depicted several ugly, stupid-looking Muggles bowing before a regal witch and wizard.
"That the Muggles were wrong?" ventured Pansy Parkinson.
"Exactly," Alecto said triumphantly.
"But Warwick was a bastard," put in Seamus. "I mean, he made them all his servants, and he kidnapped that girl ...."
Alecto shook her head and her hair flopped over one eye so that she resembled a rather sulky pirate. "Ah, but he wouldn't have done it if they hadn't asked for it. Muggles - they're like house-elves. They don't understand things the way wizards do."
"That's rubbish." Neville was surprised to hear his own voice. "We're all human, aren't we?"
Something hit him hard across the face. When he put up his hand there was nothing there, but Alecto's wand arm was outstretched and there was a challenging glint in her eyes.
"It's you who's talking rubbish, boy. What misguided, Muggle-loving propaganda have you been reading - er, what's your name?"
"Neville Longbottom."
Her smile was ugly. "Did your parents teach you that rubbish? Or no, I suppose they couldn't have."
He waited for her to elaborate, heart beating furiously, but she seemed to be awaiting his reaction with malicious glee.
"My gran taught me," he said loudly, "that just because we have powers that Muggles don't doesn't give us the right to abuse those powers."
"Well, she's wrong." Alecto's wand arm shot out again and he flinched as something flat and heavy cracked against his other cheek. "If I were you ...." She turned to the class as a whole. "I wouldn't be so quick to boast of where you learned all these ideas. There's a lot of work needs to be done both inside and outside Hogwarts. It's high time you were all taught properly - none of this namby pamby making up to Muggles nonsense that Miss Charity Burbage spouted." She made Professor Burbage's name sound like a swear word.
Neville clenched his fist around his wand. Might as well be hung for an Erkling as for an Erumpent. "Why did Professor Burbage leave, anyway? Nobody expected it at the end of last term."
For an instant, he thought she was going to hit him again. Then she grinned. "Saw the error of her ways, didn't she? Decided to go off and repent." Her gaze flicked sideways and took in Malfoy; it was a conspiratorial glance. Neville looked, too. Malfoy looked as if he was about to be sick. He was staring into the distance, apparently unaware of the attention.
Burbage is dead, Neville thought with certainty, and Malfoy's dad's well in with Voldemort - he knows something about it. He shot another curious look at Malfoy, who jumped as the bell rang.
"Homework!" announced Alecto. "Read the next chapter, and I want a foot of parchment on wizarding genetics and how to preserve them. Now get lost, the lot of you. Oh, and Longbottom: you can report your insolence to the headmaster and see what he makes of it."
* * *
That night, Neville, Luna and Ginny waited on the spiral staircase that led to Dumbledore's office, leaving a confused gargoyle in their wake. "Luna," Ginny whispered, "sometimes you're really brilliant."
"Well, I am in Ravenclaw," said Luna demurely.
As they approached their goal, Neville's heartbeat seemed to echo around the cramped chamber. If they were caught sneaking into the headmaster's office they might be expelled, and then what would Gran think? He ignored that thought. They were trying to help Harry, and Gran would approve of that.
"Lumos," Ginny muttered, pushing the door open. Neville froze at the sound of multiple snores. Then the light from Ginny's wand caught a familiar face with a long, white beard - so familiar that they all gasped, until Ginny moved her wand to the side and they saw the frame. Dumbledore looked as if he was sleeping deeply. Even though he knew it was only a portrait, Neville ached to see him there. They had needed him so badly over the past few months, and now Snape, his murderer, held sway over this office.
Ginny jogged his arm. "Do you think the portraits might raise the alarm?" she whispered.
He nodded, forgetting that she probably couldn't see the movement of his head. "Best to be on the safe side." He lit the tip of his own wand. "Let's get the sword, and keep our wands away from the portraits if possible."
Having already visited Dumbledore's - Snape's - office once that day, he had a good idea of where the sword should be. He edged around the desk, keeping his weight against it to avoid knocking anything off the wall, heading for a long, thin shadow that loomed against the wall. When he held his wand up, the sword glinted, its ruby-encrusted handle bright despite the dim light. He switched his wand to his other hand and reached up to grasp the hilt.
"I don't think so," said a soft voice in his ear. Neville felt as if his back was made of ice. Then a light came on and he found himself staring into Snape's impassive face.
"Just what," Snape said a few minutes later, "did you three think you were doing?"
It was his serenity that was the most disconcerting, Neville decided. He was used to the barely controlled rage, subverted to sarcasm, that was so familiar from Potions lessons. The validation of being headmaster seemed to have given him an extra measure of control.
"No explanation?" Snape inquired, and Neville had to fight the habit of years not to shrink back from the bite in that voice. "No good reason why you three - all of you prefects - should choose to sneak around your headmaster's office and attempt to make off with one of the most precious artefacts in the history of Hogwarts?"
Even Luna seemed to have been cowed into silence.
He killed Dumbledore, Neville reminded himself. He's a murderer, a coward, a Death Eater, a bastard.
Still the silence stretched, until Snape looked up with an air of finality.
"This ...." His hand skirted the hilt of the sword. "This will be moved to a safer location. You will not find it here again. Nor will you revisit this office looking for other material that you believe may benefit your childish quest."
Neville felt Ginny flinch beside him and wished he could lay a hand on her arm to calm or comfort her. But Snape's presence held him still and quiet.
"You will all serve detention with Hagrid for the rest of the week," Snape continued. "If I find you here again, I assure you the consequences will be much, much worse. I strongly advise you not to provoke them."
"Why shouldn't the sword go to someone who can use it?" Ginny cried. "You can barely stand to touch it - I watched you. Why should it moulder here, when it could be doing some good?"
An unpleasant smile twisted his lips. "In the hands of your erstwhile boyfriend, I suppose?"
"Poor Professor Snape," interposed Luna. Neville jumped. She had a talent, possibly gained from a lifetime of ridicule, of fading into the background, and he had forgotten that she was there.
"Not 'poor'," snapped Ginny and Snape together. They shared a shocked glance, and Snape added, "Enough. Since you cannot be trusted, I will accompany you to your common rooms. If I hear another word, you will all lose five hundred points, which I'm sure you would enjoy explaining to your peers tomorrow. I hope I make myself clear."
He swept past them, his robes casting a huge, wavering shadow in the lamplight. As Neville followed, he glanced up at Dumbledore's portrait in time to see the former headmaster wink at him. It was no comfort.
They saw Luna into the Ravenclaw common room, her small, vague voice answering the admission question without hesitation. Neville trailed back to Gryffindor Tower after Snape and Ginny, all too aware of the angry tears that Ginny was wiping from her eyes.
When they reached the Fat Lady's portrait, she opened one eye and hmphed. "I was wondering when I'd see you two again."
"Yes, your truants," Snape said sweetly, and she froze. "Don't let it happen again, or I shall move you to a dark and very uninteresting corner of the castle."
She glared at them all and the door swung open. Neville stepped gratefully into the common room. He was longing for his bed.
"Longbottom," Snape said, and he turned wearily. "You've been in the headmaster's office twice today. I don't want to see you again this term."
"No, Professor."
Snape hesitated - was he going to demand a 'Headmaster'? - and then strode away. The door shut with a decided thud. Neville and Ginny looked at one another; Ginny was no longer crying, but the devastation in her eyes hurt Neville more than anything else had that night.
"Don't worry," he said. "Maybe we can't help Harry that way, but there's still stuff we can do. At the very least, we can distract all the Death Eaters who have anything to do with Hogwarts."
Her features relaxed slightly. "I can think of a few ways to do that."
"Me, too." He smiled at her. "We'll get these detentions out of the way, and next week - we can create mayhem."
"You're on," said Ginny.
* * *
If Muggle Studies had been disturbing, the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with Amycus Carrow was stomach-turning. Amycus had the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws practising burning curses; when Neville asked why, the entire class was made to practise on him. Lavender and Seamus refused and were subjected to the same punishment, after which the others followed Amycus's orders as gently as they could. By the end of the lesson, Neville had a row of red welts on his forearm, and one open sore where Padma had cursed him too hard.
"I'm so sorry," she said tearfully at lunch. "I meant to do it as lightly as possible, but my hand slipped. You will go to Pomfrey to get it seen to, won't you?"
"No way," Neville said. He'd been considering this since his bruised cheekbones had drawn comment the previous day. "It's not your fault - it's those Carrows. I'm going to make sure everyone knows what they're like."
On Sunday afternoon, he sneaked up to the tower dormitory, which felt cavernous and draughty now that it wasn't littered with Harry's, Ron's and Dean's possessions. He and Seamus had made an effort: Dean's West Ham poster had pride of place next to Seamus's Modern Wizard pin-ups, and they had scattered their belongings far and wide to fill the space. Neville had even put up a picture of his parents, something he'd never dared to do previously in case he was asked about them. In the photo, his dad smiled and waved, and his mum's eyes held a spark of mischief that he'd never seen in his visits to St Mungo's.
Watching them, Neville smiled despite his sombre mood. They were a good reason to keep fighting.
From his pocket he pulled a golden Galleon, and from his trunk a crumpled note. The Protean Charm was not difficult, but he didn't know what effect botching it would have on the coin, so he worked slowly, following the instructions he'd copied from Hermione's notes long ago. When he was certain that the spell had taken effect, he touched his wand to several numbers around the edge of the coin. Immediately, it grew warm on his palm and the numbers glowed: 08-09-20-00. He'd done it. Now he just had to trust that people would work it out.
Double Herbology on Monday was a huge relief after Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Only three people took NEWT-level Herbology: Neville, Susan Bones and Terry Boot. Lessons tended to be quite relaxed, since they all had projects on which they were working and Professor Sprout generally let them get on with these, spending time with each of them in turn. That day, she was helping Terry with some toothed orchids that were getting a little too flirty, while Susan and Neville worked side by side, measuring leaves and checking soil content. When Susan nudged him, he looked up to find her staring at him with an intensity that made him wonder if there was something on his nose.
"Is it you who's doing that thing with the coins again?" she whispered, so quietly that he had to more or less lip-read.
He nodded, and a smile lit up her anxious face. "I thought so when I found it. I told some of the others, so you can count on us being there tonight. I can't wait."
One of her fanged geraniums made a bid for freedom and they stopped talking to wrestle it back into the pot. But Neville resumed his work with a lighter heart. They were no longer a resistance of three: Dumbledore's Army was an army again. He was so busy making plans for the evening that he took barely any notice of his Venomous Tentacula for the rest of the lesson - until it revenged itself with a snap at his hand.
* * *
We need a secret room, Neville thought when he reached the corridor on which the entrance to the Room of Requirement was situated. A place where it's safe to talk, where no Death Eaters can find us.
When it appeared, the room was similar to the one they had used for the DA meetings, with cushions covering the floor and shelves filled with books, Sneakoscopes and other defensive paraphernalia. A Foe-Glass was mounted by the door, and Neville checked it before making himself comfortable on a cushion.
To stop himself worrying that nobody would come after all, he practised producing his Patronus. It felt almost impossible in his current mood, but that was the point, he supposed. You weren't going to be feeling very cheerful with a horde of Dementors bearing down on you.
The first happy memory he tried was the time when he'd won the house cup for Gryffindor in his first year - but that reminded him of Dumbledore, and a sense of loss spread through him before he could stop it.
Next, he tried the moment when he'd learnt that he really was a wizard, but that was too tied up with worry and uncertainty about living up to his family's expectations. Dancing with Ginny at the Yule Ball was embarrassing now that she and Harry were ... whatever they were. Finally, he focused on the smile his mum had given him the last time he'd visited. She looked so different when she smiled, more like the woman in his photograph. It didn't even matter, at times like those, that she didn't know who he was. He just liked to see her happy.
A huge shape burst from the tip of his wand, mouth open in a silent roar, and dissipated instantly when Ginny walked in.
Her face relaxed when she saw him. "This looks familiar." She flung herself onto a cushion. "Think anyone else'll turn up?"
"According to Susan, some of the Hufflepuffs will," Neville said. "Between us we've got to manage something."
She nodded. "Even if it's just a few of us, yeah, we can think of something."
The door opened again and Luna entered. "Oh, hello," she said. "How are you both?"
"Ready to do something," Ginny said grimly. "You?"
"Yes, I think so." Luna nodded. "I had Defence Against the Dark Arts today, and that Amycus man made us practise some rather disgusting curses. On each other. It's actually pretty hard to concentrate on doing magic if you know it's going to hurt your friend, but he didn't seem to consider that."
"We can't let them get away with this," said Neville angrily. "If no adults are going to stop them, we've got to fight back ourselves."
The door opened once more to admit Susan, Ernie and Hannah, followed by Lavender, Seamus and the Patil twins. Ginny seemed heartened by the additional support; she relaxed her self-control enough to greet them with a genuine smile.
"So what are we going to do?" Susan asked, gazing at Neville.
"Cause mayhem," Ginny said fiercely.
"Yeah!" exclaimed Seamus, and Lavender and Parvati nodded.
"It's all very well saying that," remarked Ernie, "but what can we actually do? I mean, it's obvious that something's got to be done. We can't allow this sort of thing to go on at Hogwarts without protesting. But I've heard ugly rumours about that Carrow pair."
"Everything you've heard about them's true," said Neville, "and you're right, we don't want to antagonise them openly. Or at least, we shouldn't expect everyone to do that." He rubbed his arm, which was still hurting from the previous week, and looked around. The others, even Ginny, were all waiting for him to continue. "Here's what I've been thinking. We organise using the coins. We take it in turns; they can't watch all of us all the time. We practise proper defensive spells to counteract all that crap the Carrows are trying to teach us, and we take our resistance public. We sneak out and write 'Dumbledore's Army' on walls, and stupid stuff about the Death Eaters. We mock You-Know-Who. We make sure The Quibbler gets passed around, so people know the Ministry isn't all that's out there. We publicly proclaim our support for Harry, and we come out in support of Muggle-borns. We stand up to the Carrows in lessons when we can."
There was a brief silence when he stopped for breath. Ginny and Luna were nodding; the others looked thoughtful.
"I agree that we've got to do something," Hannah said, "but what good will writing graffiti on walls do, really? Isn't it a bit pointless? All it's going to do is wind up people like Snape and the Carrows - and make Filch even more bad-tempered."
"No," said Neville, suddenly sure of himself. "We'll be giving people hope."
* * *
Interlude
"... and so we're driving the Carrows mental." Augusta hesitated and then continued reading to her silent audience. "They haven't a clue what's coming next, and they can't do a thing about it.
"They're quite open about their Dark Marks now, and even some of the Slytherins aren't happy about that, although they daren't show it. So they're getting what they deserve.
"I'm sending this at night; we've just been preparing some surprises for them. I'd better get to bed now - double Defence Against the Dark Arts in the morning. Not that there's much defence involved these days.
"Please tell Mum and Dad and anyone else you talk to (if it's safe) that Hogwarts isn't bowing down to You-Know-Who, whatever you hear officially. Dumbledore's Army is here and fighting!
"Love, Neville."
Augusta looked up. Frank was staring into space in the armchair across from her, and beside him, Alice played with a wrapper from that gum she was always chewing. She made a mental note to bring some more in.
"You hear that?" she demanded, sharpness overriding the pride in her voice. "Neville's a fighter, just like you. He's keeping the Longbottom tradition going."
It was odd, she supposed, that she had taken on the role of protector of the Longbottom name despite being born a Matthews. Well, her husband had left her far too early, and she'd been inordinately proud of her son, until he had been taken from her, too.
Now it looked as if Neville was continuing the family tradition, and it surprised her how much her pride in him was laced with terror. These were tough times to stand up for what was right. Could she bear it if he was taken away as well?
She shook her head to chase her thoughts away. She would bear it, of course. And she would cherish her pride in him for the rest of her life, just as she did with Frank.
If there was any justice in the world, though, Neville would survive.
* * *
1997-1998
Two days later, Professor Snape announced at breakfast that the children who had defaced the Potions corridor would be found and punished. Neville did not dare catch anyone else's eye, but he thought of his parents and wished he could tell them that he was trying to carry on their work. He hoped that Gran had appreciated his letter.
At the next DA meeting, their numbers tripled. Dumbledore's Army was back in business, and thinking up new tricks and other means of resistance became the chief source of entertainment for those who opposed Voldemort.
But despite their efforts, the situation deteriorated both at Hogwarts and beyond. Luna was kidnapped on the way home for Christmas - and Neville and Ginny earned a broken arm apiece and their first experience of the Cruciatus curse in their failed attempt to defend her. This was horrifying enough from a personal point of view, but it also meant losing one of their few sources of information, since Luna's father, presumably terrified for her safety, began toeing the Ministry line along with the mainstream wizarding media. His appeasement seemed to be in vain, because nothing was heard of Luna for months. Nor was there any news of Dean. Seamus was clearly worried for him, despite his assertion that Dean had the wherewithal and common sense to stay out of sight for as long as he needed to. Most depressing of all, there had been no news at all of Harry, Ron and Hermione except for a few stories claiming that Harry had been captured or sighted abroad.
At Hogwarts, the Carrows grew bolder. They had spent their first term seeing how far they could push Snape; by January, enraged by constant defiance and ridicule by the DA, they seemed to have decided that the answer to that was, 'as far as they liked'. Detentions no longer involved other professors, who were expected to send all miscreants to the Carrows for punishment. In reality, school discipline had never been better, since students did their best not to invoke punishment and professors did their best not to hand it out. With a few exceptions, pupils and staff developed a mutually friendly symbiosis.
However, the Carrows found plenty of reasons to impose detentions of their own, and these periods literally became an excuse for torture. Certain students - Crabbe and Goyle in particular - delighted in starting fights so that they ended up in detention with their victims, where the Carrows gave them licence to cast the Cruciatus curse for as long as the detention lasted. Neville and Ginny came in for the worst of it, since they were the readiest to speak out against the new policies - but all the older Gryffindors endured punishment by Cruciatus curse at least once a week, and many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were not far behind.
Each time his turn came, Neville thought about his parents throughout the torture. Where this would once have made him miserable and silent, it now made him angry, and he used that anger to keep himself going as the world darkened around him. When Ginny went home at Easter and didn't return, he found himself sole leader of the resistance and discovered the responsibilities that others expected him to shoulder: comforting Susan after a session with Crabbe in a particularly vicious mood; encouraging Peakes when he lost his nerve; negotiating the release of two second years from a vengeful Filch.
As the torture grew more indiscriminate, Neville sensed a change in attitude towards him. He had been identified as a ringleader in the resistance to Death Eater control of Hogwarts, and he began to suspect that his pure-blood status would not protect him for much longer.
* * *
Interlude
Leaving the unconscious Dawlish to be found whenever someone decided to check on him, Augusta grabbed the bag she'd had ready for weeks, pulled on her hat and Apparated to one of her favourite retreats: a tarn near the top of one of the hills in the Lake District. She spent some time performing Disillusionment and Concealment Charms around the spot where she'd landed before setting up her tent. Some Muggles were camping on the other side of the tarn, but that was all right; they would assume that she was another hiker, and the charms would prevent them from getting close enough to wonder about her attire.
She set up her fishing rod, got the fire going inside the tent and took out a roll of parchment, eyeing her owl speculatively. He was young and reliable, but there were a few different people she wanted to write to, located in various parts of the country.
Neville was most important, she decided, and settled down on a cushion beside her rod. For once, the words came easily and she had no problem filling several inches of parchment. She used her wand to tear it off neatly, rolled it up and affixed it to Wendell's leg before scribbling a few lines for Minerva McGonagall on the remains of the sheet.
"Off you go, then," she ordered. "Keep those safe, and try to deliver them when no one's looking."
He hooted softly and rose into the air.
"And come straight back," she added. "I'll have some food for you, so no hunting, please."
She didn't expect him back before nightfall, but she finished her letters anyway: a note for Algie telling him that she was fine and could he please look in on Frank and Alice once a week until he heard from her again; and a letter to her lawyer instructing him to implement the plan they'd drawn up several months ago. The Longbottom family's assets would remain safe, no matter how perilous the situations of its members.
It was now lunchtime and no fish were biting, so she permitted herself a little magic. Within minutes, she had enough to feed three people and so, judging by their jubilant cries, did the Muggles on the other side of the water.
An hour later, sated and snug in her spare armchair, she made her plans. She'd have to move on as soon as Wendell got back; there was no point sitting and waiting to be caught. She hoped Neville was safe. He was a good boy, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.
Part 2
Author: Lyras
Recipient: turningleft
Character(s): Neville, Augusta, Frank, Alice, Dumbledore's Army, ensemble
Rating: PG-13
Word-count: 15,900
Warnings (highlight to view): Mentions of torture
Summary: Neville's seventh year at Hogwarts presents many challenges, but he is his parents' son
Author's Notes: To my recipient: I loved writing this story, so I really hope you enjoy it! A small amount of dialogue towards the end is quoted directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Thank you to the mods for organising this exchange, and to JK Rowling for creating such a wonderful world for us to play in
Betas: Thank you very much to kennahijja for an insightful beta-read! All remaining errors are my own.
The Lions of Gryffindor
1979
"Eat dung!" Alice yelled, flinging a curse to suit her words at the nearest Death Eater. When he flicked it back at her, she dived aside, rolling back upright immediately.
Stay on your feet! It was one of Moody's mantras, and damn, she wished he was here now. Her Patronus seemed to have been gone for ages, but there was no sign of help and these Death Eaters were skilful fighters. Shooting a succession of Stunning spells in the direction of her assailant, she risked a glance around at Frank. He was being edged back towards the wall of the house by two Death Eaters. She sent a Furnunculus curse into their midst and whirled back just in time to dodge a blast of green light.
"You bastard!" It wasn't the first time she'd survived an attempt at murder, but it was the closest she'd yet been to that particular curse. Fighting Death Eaters was exhausting, she decided. They had no principles and no rules, except that they were right and anyone else could go to hell.
Please let the others get here soon, she prayed with another anxious glance towards Frank. He was favouring his left side, obviously injured; they couldn't hold them off for much longer. She might only be taking on one Death Eater to Frank's two, but this was not like fighting anyone she'd ever encountered before. He was so fast that he seemed to skim over the ground; either he was Apparating ridiculously quickly or he was flying. She hadn't decided which, but it made him extremely awkward to duel with, and having all her magic turned against her with apparent ease was disconcerting, to say the least.
Her Patronus loped into view, and she realised that her prayer had been answered even before several Order members burst into the garden. The Death Eaters were outnumbered now, and apparently uninterested in risking their lives - at least, not when the deaths were theirs. They turned quickly and Disapparated before the Prewetts and Sirius Black had done more than shoot off Stunning spells, much to the latter's disdain.
Alice kept watch, smoothing the shaggy mane of her Patronus as it faded, while Sirius reassured the family inside the house. Meanwhile, the Prewetts and Frank set up charms that would deflect attention from the area if the Death Eaters decided to return on another night.
Only when they were preparing to leave did she turn and vomit into a rosebush at the end of garden. Frank held her hair back and cleaned up while the others kept a sympathetic distance, presumably believing that she'd been overcome by the night's events. She wouldn't have been the first among the Order of the Phoenix to have suffered in that way.
She kept her counsel until she and Frank arrived home with an hour in which to recover from their night shift with the Order and prepare for work. Frank was making cocoa and offering to report her sick to Moody when she pressed his hand against her stomach.
"I think I might need to give up night shifts for a few months."
His hand tensed on her belly. "D'you mean ...?"
She smiled wearily up at him. He was so comfortable to lean against. "Yeah. Pretty sure, anyway."
"Oh, wow." He kissed her forehead and then her lips. "Oh, wow. Oh, darling." He got down onto his knees and pulled up her blouse, staring from her belly to her face with such elation that she grinned.
"Baby, meet Dad," she instructed.
"Wow," Frank repeated. "Dad's very pleased to meet you, little lion," he murmured, and kissed her stomach. "Was that the right part? I don't even know where it grows, really."
"Feels about right," she said, "and you'll know all about where it is soon enough. I'll probably look like a house before it's out."
"You'll look beautiful," he said, straightening for a proper kiss. "Always."
* * *
1997
The mist on platform nine and three-quarters was not all caused by the train that September, and the mood was sombre. Just inside the barrier, a line of officials checked off names as people crossed. Parents clung to students of all ages with a touch of desperation. "Be careful," Neville heard one woman telling a sullen boy of about twelve. "Behave well and everything will be all right."
He turned to Gran, suddenly frantic to find the others and start the new term, however awful it looked like being. "I'd better get on. I've got to be up in the top carriage for a prefects' meeting soon."
The train's whistle drowned out his last words, and she patted his elbow. "All right, dear. Have a good term, and stick to your principles." She squeezed his hand. "Here, have this."
Neville looked down and found a faded red badge embossed with a gold 'P'.
"It was your father's," Gran said.
"Thanks." His fingers closed on it. His father's wand, his prefect's badge, his shoes that he could never fill .... Even now, he'd only been made a prefect to replace Ron and Hermione - Snape's letter had been quite clear about that.
"I was proud of him when he was made a prefect," Gran said, adding abruptly, "It's a real achievement, Neville." She kissed his cheek and was gone in a whirl of black robes, leaving him staring after her.
"Neville!" He turned to find Ginny waving from the door of a carriage. "We've got room in here."
Relieved and pleased, he lugged his trunk up the steps and stowed it in the luggage area, greeting the occupants of the compartment in between puffs of effort. "Hi, Ginny. Hi, Luna. Good holidays?"
There was a brief silence, during which Neville reflected on the thoughtlessness of his question.
"Oh, yes," Ginny said brightly. "Absolutely wonderful, except for the part where my brother's wedding got crashed by Death Eaters looking for Harry."
"Sorry," he said, shaking his head. "That was a really stupid thing to say. Wasn't thinking. I heard about the attack - was everyone all right?"
"Most people got away in time," she answered. "I think they might have had a go at Dad, except that the presence of all my hulking brothers put them off." She hunched over, head on one elbow. "One of the few times I've been pleased to have so many older brothers."
"What about Harry?" He lowered his voice on the last word and glanced at the compartment door to check that it was shut properly.
She shrugged, looking even more closed up than usual. "He was fine a week after Bill's wedding. Someone we know saw him. We've heard nothing since then."
"He'll be all right." Neville had thought a lot about Harry since he had been proclaimed a wanted man by the Ministry of Magic. "He's always done amazing things. If anyone can survive, it's Harry."
Ginny's stiff features relaxed. "I agree. He'll be fine. I'm proud of him."
"Oh, yes, Harry will have to be very careful," put in Luna, who had been rummaging in her bag. She placed a copy of The Quibbler on the table and sat opposite Neville. "But he has Ronald and Hermione to help him, and that makes me feel much better."
Ginny's jaw dropped. "Um ... Ron's ... ill. He's got spattergroit."
"Well, I understand that's what you have to tell people," Luna said calmly, "but I doubt he'd let Harry and Hermione go far without him. And my father says Hermione's on the list of Muggle-borns who are unaccounted for."
"She wrote to me," Neville offered, "to say her family was moving to Australia." Both girls looked at him and he lowered his gaze. "But I didn't believe her. Although of course, I'll tell people that - help put the story about."
"All right," Ginny said wearily. "Harry was staying with us until the wedding, and when the Death Eaters attacked, he, Ron and Hermione went on the run. But you can't tell anyone!" She scowled. "If Harry or any of my family suffers because you know, I'll hex you to the back of beyond."
Someone banged on the carriage door and they all jumped. Ernie Macmillan put his head into the compartment. "Hullo, you three. Everything all right? Just wanted to say that the prefects are meeting in the end carriage in half an hour, so you'd better start heading along soon. Had good holidays?" He shut the door without waiting for an answer, leaving them staring after him.
"Yeah, great," Ginny said after a moment. "Er, are we all prefects?"
Neville nodded, and Luna said, "It's exciting, isn't it? Daddy gave me lots of advice about shouldering my responsibilities. He feels it's vital for people to stand up to the tyranny of the Ministry of Magic, and he thinks that being a prefect will give me the chance to influence people at Hogwarts in that respect."
"Well," said Neville when he'd untangled this speech, "it'll give us an excuse to be out of bounds, things like that. And yeah, you're completely right. We need to set an example for everyone else. Remember what Harry was like with Umbridge two years ago? He never accepted her lies, just kept standing up for the truth. And that's what gave people the courage to defy her. I think that's what we've got to do this year if Snape tries anything, or these two new professors he's appointed."
"The Carrows," Ginny said. "We've met them already. At the end of last term." At Neville's blank look, she shrugged. "They were two of those Death Eaters Malfoy let in."
"Yes, Amycus and Alecto," Luna said. "Daddy wrote an article on them in this month's edition - hang on a sec." She flipped the pages over; Neville glimpsed Harry's face at the head of one article. "Here we go. 'Both Amycus and Alecto have unimpressive pasts, although little is known about their professional experience since they left Hogwarts thirty years ago. Amycus has been known to the Ministry of Magic's Auror department for many years, but no connection with the Death Eaters has ever been proven. Nevertheless, an unnamed source in the Auror department told me that both Carrows are believed to have links with Voldemort, and Harry Potter named them as being present during Albus Dumbledore's recent murder. While her brother appears to have subsisted on petty crime, Alecto claims to have been working as a private tutor. However, she declined to provide names of families whose children she has taught.'" Luna looked up. "Daddy thinks they're going to be the worst teachers we've ever had."
"They don't sound like much," Neville said. But then, he thought, Umbridge hadn't been up to much, either, and she had made life miserable for most people at Hogwarts.
"Anyway," Ginny said, "we can worry about those two when we get to school. There's something else I want to talk to you about." She looked excited and a little shy; Neville had the impression that she'd been planning this speech for a while.
"Go on," he said.
She looked around to check that she had their attention. "Harry's got to kill You-Know-Who."
Neville sighed and nodded. It was the sort of thing he expected Harry to do after all this time. Hadn't it been coming to this for most of their lives?
"Yes, I thought he might have to," Luna said.
If Ginny had hoped to drop a bombshell, she wasted no time over it fizzling. "So, I was thinking about things that might help. And what do we have at Hogwarts that can be used as a weapon against V- him?
Weapon? Neville thought for a minute. There were plenty of dangerous plants, but he didn't see how any of them could hurt Voldemort directly. He was thinking back through his school years when Luna provided the answer.
"Gryffindor's sword."
Ginny nodded, eyes gleaming. "Harry's already used it once - it came out of the Sorting Hat when he rescued me from Slytherin's Chamber. He killed the basilisk with it."
"So, you think we should, what, steal it?" asked Neville. "I'm not saying that's impossible, but - what do we do with it after that?"
"We'll work that out later," Ginny said impatiently. "The important thing is to get it. We've got to help Harry!"
* * *
1980
Alice lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes. The mediwizards could patch her up physically but they could do nothing about the exhaustion; her body would have to recover from that in its own time.
It was the first time since they'd laid the baby in her arms that she'd put him down - so whole and perfect and real, all that personality wrapped up in pink, wrinkled flesh and blue eyes and a fuzz of hair and the most adorable fingers and toes.
Anyway. She'd only relaxed because Frank was nursing him right beside her, murmuring a litany of endearments. She opened one eye and watched him with weary satisfaction. He wasn't fat, but he was solid in a way that wasn't entirely to do with his shape. She'd felt that he was dependable since their early days at school, and after six years together she knew it. He looked huge with the tiny baby in the crook of his arm, but he was unbelievably gentle. He was going to make a wonderful father.
He saw her watching and grinned. "Hey, Neville," he murmured, "here's Mum keeping an eye on us." He hefted the baby around so that he was blinking at her with those perfect eyes, fringed with perfect eyelashes, in that face unblemished by worldly cares.
Alice drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.
* * *
1998
Neville considered Ginny's words as he waited for the Sorting ceremony to start. She was right, of course: if Harry was trying to kill Voldemort, they must do everything they could to help. And the Sword of Gryffindor was surely one of the best weapons to use against the man who called himself Slytherin's heir.
The Gryffindor table was subdued. On Neville's left, Seamus looked lost without Dean, and it was impossible to miss the gap left by Harry, Ron and Hermione. Most of the Muggle-borns had not returned, and it looked as if a few wizarding families had defied the edict requiring all minors to attend Hogwarts. He hoped that they were safely out of the country, and that the Muggle-borns were not languishing in Azkaban. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were similarly depleted, and there was little of the bustle and chatter that usually marked the first night feast. Only the Slytherins seemed completely confident, but Neville noticed gaps there, too.
On his right, Ginny was fiddling with her cutlery, clearly not in the mood for small talk. The prefects' meeting had been frustrating from the outset, when Malfoy had loudly derided Luna's appointment as sixth-form Ravenclaw prefect. Ginny and Neville had leapt to her defence, although Neville privately thought that she was an odd choice. Ernie's subsequent attempt to discuss the upcoming school year had been taken seriously by only about half the people present, most of whom had seemed afraid to say too much. All in all, nothing had been achieved at the meeting by anyone except Malfoy, who had made it clear that he intended to be as obnoxious as ever.
A hush spread through the hall. Professor Snape strode to the head table and took his place between a ramrod-backed McGonagall and Professor Sprout, who turned slightly away from him.
"Welcome," he said, his voice carrying without apparent effort.
A cheer erupted at the Slytherin table, continuing until Snape silenced it with a sickly smile.
"It is time for the new arrivals among us to find their places," he said. "Professor McGonagall, would you bring them in?"
Without looking at him, Professor McGonagall marched towards the entrance and called the first years inside. Neville watched sympathetically as they scurried into the Great Hall and looked around. No doubt the usual rumours had been flying.
As "Anstice, Wilhemina" stumbled towards the Sorting Hat, he wondered if everyone talked to the Hat during their Sorting, the way he had.
"Well, well," it had said when he'd sat down (and Neville had almost dropped his wand in shock), "what have we here?"
"Gryffindor, like Dad," Neville had prayed. "Please put me in Gryffindor, like my dad."
"You want Gryffindor, do you? You could go there, of course - you've plenty of grit. But are you sure you wouldn't prefer Hufflepuff? I sense a strong streak of loyalty in you, and a sensitivity that is rare in Gryffindors."
"I don't know," Neville had answered. "I'm not very brave, and I'm not clever or cunning, either. I probably belong in Hufflepuff, but I have to be in Gryffindor. It's the only house my gran rates, because that's where she was, and my mum and dad." It was a relief to unburden himself, even to a talking hat.
"Oh, well, if it's like that," the Hat had said after an interminable pause. "Gryffindor!" Neville heard cheers in the distance, and began to hurry away before the Hat changed its mind. But it was still speaking. "And remember, young man, it's what's inside you that's important, not what others expect of you. You have the makings of an exemplary Gryffindor."
"Thank you, thank you," Neville had whispered. He'd been halfway to the Gryffindor table before he'd heard the titters and realised that he was still wearing the Hat.
* * *
"So Warlock Warwick was beheaded," Malfoy read in a monotone, "and the evil witchfinder moved on to the next village, while those who had feared Warwick celebrated."
"Well?" demanded Professor Carrow, already known informally to the students as 'Alecto'. "What does this tell you?"
There was an awkward silence. Neville gazed at one of the posters that had appeared on the wall of the Muggle Studies classroom: it depicted several ugly, stupid-looking Muggles bowing before a regal witch and wizard.
"That the Muggles were wrong?" ventured Pansy Parkinson.
"Exactly," Alecto said triumphantly.
"But Warwick was a bastard," put in Seamus. "I mean, he made them all his servants, and he kidnapped that girl ...."
Alecto shook her head and her hair flopped over one eye so that she resembled a rather sulky pirate. "Ah, but he wouldn't have done it if they hadn't asked for it. Muggles - they're like house-elves. They don't understand things the way wizards do."
"That's rubbish." Neville was surprised to hear his own voice. "We're all human, aren't we?"
Something hit him hard across the face. When he put up his hand there was nothing there, but Alecto's wand arm was outstretched and there was a challenging glint in her eyes.
"It's you who's talking rubbish, boy. What misguided, Muggle-loving propaganda have you been reading - er, what's your name?"
"Neville Longbottom."
Her smile was ugly. "Did your parents teach you that rubbish? Or no, I suppose they couldn't have."
He waited for her to elaborate, heart beating furiously, but she seemed to be awaiting his reaction with malicious glee.
"My gran taught me," he said loudly, "that just because we have powers that Muggles don't doesn't give us the right to abuse those powers."
"Well, she's wrong." Alecto's wand arm shot out again and he flinched as something flat and heavy cracked against his other cheek. "If I were you ...." She turned to the class as a whole. "I wouldn't be so quick to boast of where you learned all these ideas. There's a lot of work needs to be done both inside and outside Hogwarts. It's high time you were all taught properly - none of this namby pamby making up to Muggles nonsense that Miss Charity Burbage spouted." She made Professor Burbage's name sound like a swear word.
Neville clenched his fist around his wand. Might as well be hung for an Erkling as for an Erumpent. "Why did Professor Burbage leave, anyway? Nobody expected it at the end of last term."
For an instant, he thought she was going to hit him again. Then she grinned. "Saw the error of her ways, didn't she? Decided to go off and repent." Her gaze flicked sideways and took in Malfoy; it was a conspiratorial glance. Neville looked, too. Malfoy looked as if he was about to be sick. He was staring into the distance, apparently unaware of the attention.
Burbage is dead, Neville thought with certainty, and Malfoy's dad's well in with Voldemort - he knows something about it. He shot another curious look at Malfoy, who jumped as the bell rang.
"Homework!" announced Alecto. "Read the next chapter, and I want a foot of parchment on wizarding genetics and how to preserve them. Now get lost, the lot of you. Oh, and Longbottom: you can report your insolence to the headmaster and see what he makes of it."
* * *
That night, Neville, Luna and Ginny waited on the spiral staircase that led to Dumbledore's office, leaving a confused gargoyle in their wake. "Luna," Ginny whispered, "sometimes you're really brilliant."
"Well, I am in Ravenclaw," said Luna demurely.
As they approached their goal, Neville's heartbeat seemed to echo around the cramped chamber. If they were caught sneaking into the headmaster's office they might be expelled, and then what would Gran think? He ignored that thought. They were trying to help Harry, and Gran would approve of that.
"Lumos," Ginny muttered, pushing the door open. Neville froze at the sound of multiple snores. Then the light from Ginny's wand caught a familiar face with a long, white beard - so familiar that they all gasped, until Ginny moved her wand to the side and they saw the frame. Dumbledore looked as if he was sleeping deeply. Even though he knew it was only a portrait, Neville ached to see him there. They had needed him so badly over the past few months, and now Snape, his murderer, held sway over this office.
Ginny jogged his arm. "Do you think the portraits might raise the alarm?" she whispered.
He nodded, forgetting that she probably couldn't see the movement of his head. "Best to be on the safe side." He lit the tip of his own wand. "Let's get the sword, and keep our wands away from the portraits if possible."
Having already visited Dumbledore's - Snape's - office once that day, he had a good idea of where the sword should be. He edged around the desk, keeping his weight against it to avoid knocking anything off the wall, heading for a long, thin shadow that loomed against the wall. When he held his wand up, the sword glinted, its ruby-encrusted handle bright despite the dim light. He switched his wand to his other hand and reached up to grasp the hilt.
"I don't think so," said a soft voice in his ear. Neville felt as if his back was made of ice. Then a light came on and he found himself staring into Snape's impassive face.
"Just what," Snape said a few minutes later, "did you three think you were doing?"
It was his serenity that was the most disconcerting, Neville decided. He was used to the barely controlled rage, subverted to sarcasm, that was so familiar from Potions lessons. The validation of being headmaster seemed to have given him an extra measure of control.
"No explanation?" Snape inquired, and Neville had to fight the habit of years not to shrink back from the bite in that voice. "No good reason why you three - all of you prefects - should choose to sneak around your headmaster's office and attempt to make off with one of the most precious artefacts in the history of Hogwarts?"
Even Luna seemed to have been cowed into silence.
He killed Dumbledore, Neville reminded himself. He's a murderer, a coward, a Death Eater, a bastard.
Still the silence stretched, until Snape looked up with an air of finality.
"This ...." His hand skirted the hilt of the sword. "This will be moved to a safer location. You will not find it here again. Nor will you revisit this office looking for other material that you believe may benefit your childish quest."
Neville felt Ginny flinch beside him and wished he could lay a hand on her arm to calm or comfort her. But Snape's presence held him still and quiet.
"You will all serve detention with Hagrid for the rest of the week," Snape continued. "If I find you here again, I assure you the consequences will be much, much worse. I strongly advise you not to provoke them."
"Why shouldn't the sword go to someone who can use it?" Ginny cried. "You can barely stand to touch it - I watched you. Why should it moulder here, when it could be doing some good?"
An unpleasant smile twisted his lips. "In the hands of your erstwhile boyfriend, I suppose?"
"Poor Professor Snape," interposed Luna. Neville jumped. She had a talent, possibly gained from a lifetime of ridicule, of fading into the background, and he had forgotten that she was there.
"Not 'poor'," snapped Ginny and Snape together. They shared a shocked glance, and Snape added, "Enough. Since you cannot be trusted, I will accompany you to your common rooms. If I hear another word, you will all lose five hundred points, which I'm sure you would enjoy explaining to your peers tomorrow. I hope I make myself clear."
He swept past them, his robes casting a huge, wavering shadow in the lamplight. As Neville followed, he glanced up at Dumbledore's portrait in time to see the former headmaster wink at him. It was no comfort.
They saw Luna into the Ravenclaw common room, her small, vague voice answering the admission question without hesitation. Neville trailed back to Gryffindor Tower after Snape and Ginny, all too aware of the angry tears that Ginny was wiping from her eyes.
When they reached the Fat Lady's portrait, she opened one eye and hmphed. "I was wondering when I'd see you two again."
"Yes, your truants," Snape said sweetly, and she froze. "Don't let it happen again, or I shall move you to a dark and very uninteresting corner of the castle."
She glared at them all and the door swung open. Neville stepped gratefully into the common room. He was longing for his bed.
"Longbottom," Snape said, and he turned wearily. "You've been in the headmaster's office twice today. I don't want to see you again this term."
"No, Professor."
Snape hesitated - was he going to demand a 'Headmaster'? - and then strode away. The door shut with a decided thud. Neville and Ginny looked at one another; Ginny was no longer crying, but the devastation in her eyes hurt Neville more than anything else had that night.
"Don't worry," he said. "Maybe we can't help Harry that way, but there's still stuff we can do. At the very least, we can distract all the Death Eaters who have anything to do with Hogwarts."
Her features relaxed slightly. "I can think of a few ways to do that."
"Me, too." He smiled at her. "We'll get these detentions out of the way, and next week - we can create mayhem."
"You're on," said Ginny.
* * *
If Muggle Studies had been disturbing, the first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with Amycus Carrow was stomach-turning. Amycus had the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws practising burning curses; when Neville asked why, the entire class was made to practise on him. Lavender and Seamus refused and were subjected to the same punishment, after which the others followed Amycus's orders as gently as they could. By the end of the lesson, Neville had a row of red welts on his forearm, and one open sore where Padma had cursed him too hard.
"I'm so sorry," she said tearfully at lunch. "I meant to do it as lightly as possible, but my hand slipped. You will go to Pomfrey to get it seen to, won't you?"
"No way," Neville said. He'd been considering this since his bruised cheekbones had drawn comment the previous day. "It's not your fault - it's those Carrows. I'm going to make sure everyone knows what they're like."
On Sunday afternoon, he sneaked up to the tower dormitory, which felt cavernous and draughty now that it wasn't littered with Harry's, Ron's and Dean's possessions. He and Seamus had made an effort: Dean's West Ham poster had pride of place next to Seamus's Modern Wizard pin-ups, and they had scattered their belongings far and wide to fill the space. Neville had even put up a picture of his parents, something he'd never dared to do previously in case he was asked about them. In the photo, his dad smiled and waved, and his mum's eyes held a spark of mischief that he'd never seen in his visits to St Mungo's.
Watching them, Neville smiled despite his sombre mood. They were a good reason to keep fighting.
From his pocket he pulled a golden Galleon, and from his trunk a crumpled note. The Protean Charm was not difficult, but he didn't know what effect botching it would have on the coin, so he worked slowly, following the instructions he'd copied from Hermione's notes long ago. When he was certain that the spell had taken effect, he touched his wand to several numbers around the edge of the coin. Immediately, it grew warm on his palm and the numbers glowed: 08-09-20-00. He'd done it. Now he just had to trust that people would work it out.
Double Herbology on Monday was a huge relief after Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Only three people took NEWT-level Herbology: Neville, Susan Bones and Terry Boot. Lessons tended to be quite relaxed, since they all had projects on which they were working and Professor Sprout generally let them get on with these, spending time with each of them in turn. That day, she was helping Terry with some toothed orchids that were getting a little too flirty, while Susan and Neville worked side by side, measuring leaves and checking soil content. When Susan nudged him, he looked up to find her staring at him with an intensity that made him wonder if there was something on his nose.
"Is it you who's doing that thing with the coins again?" she whispered, so quietly that he had to more or less lip-read.
He nodded, and a smile lit up her anxious face. "I thought so when I found it. I told some of the others, so you can count on us being there tonight. I can't wait."
One of her fanged geraniums made a bid for freedom and they stopped talking to wrestle it back into the pot. But Neville resumed his work with a lighter heart. They were no longer a resistance of three: Dumbledore's Army was an army again. He was so busy making plans for the evening that he took barely any notice of his Venomous Tentacula for the rest of the lesson - until it revenged itself with a snap at his hand.
* * *
We need a secret room, Neville thought when he reached the corridor on which the entrance to the Room of Requirement was situated. A place where it's safe to talk, where no Death Eaters can find us.
When it appeared, the room was similar to the one they had used for the DA meetings, with cushions covering the floor and shelves filled with books, Sneakoscopes and other defensive paraphernalia. A Foe-Glass was mounted by the door, and Neville checked it before making himself comfortable on a cushion.
To stop himself worrying that nobody would come after all, he practised producing his Patronus. It felt almost impossible in his current mood, but that was the point, he supposed. You weren't going to be feeling very cheerful with a horde of Dementors bearing down on you.
The first happy memory he tried was the time when he'd won the house cup for Gryffindor in his first year - but that reminded him of Dumbledore, and a sense of loss spread through him before he could stop it.
Next, he tried the moment when he'd learnt that he really was a wizard, but that was too tied up with worry and uncertainty about living up to his family's expectations. Dancing with Ginny at the Yule Ball was embarrassing now that she and Harry were ... whatever they were. Finally, he focused on the smile his mum had given him the last time he'd visited. She looked so different when she smiled, more like the woman in his photograph. It didn't even matter, at times like those, that she didn't know who he was. He just liked to see her happy.
A huge shape burst from the tip of his wand, mouth open in a silent roar, and dissipated instantly when Ginny walked in.
Her face relaxed when she saw him. "This looks familiar." She flung herself onto a cushion. "Think anyone else'll turn up?"
"According to Susan, some of the Hufflepuffs will," Neville said. "Between us we've got to manage something."
She nodded. "Even if it's just a few of us, yeah, we can think of something."
The door opened again and Luna entered. "Oh, hello," she said. "How are you both?"
"Ready to do something," Ginny said grimly. "You?"
"Yes, I think so." Luna nodded. "I had Defence Against the Dark Arts today, and that Amycus man made us practise some rather disgusting curses. On each other. It's actually pretty hard to concentrate on doing magic if you know it's going to hurt your friend, but he didn't seem to consider that."
"We can't let them get away with this," said Neville angrily. "If no adults are going to stop them, we've got to fight back ourselves."
The door opened once more to admit Susan, Ernie and Hannah, followed by Lavender, Seamus and the Patil twins. Ginny seemed heartened by the additional support; she relaxed her self-control enough to greet them with a genuine smile.
"So what are we going to do?" Susan asked, gazing at Neville.
"Cause mayhem," Ginny said fiercely.
"Yeah!" exclaimed Seamus, and Lavender and Parvati nodded.
"It's all very well saying that," remarked Ernie, "but what can we actually do? I mean, it's obvious that something's got to be done. We can't allow this sort of thing to go on at Hogwarts without protesting. But I've heard ugly rumours about that Carrow pair."
"Everything you've heard about them's true," said Neville, "and you're right, we don't want to antagonise them openly. Or at least, we shouldn't expect everyone to do that." He rubbed his arm, which was still hurting from the previous week, and looked around. The others, even Ginny, were all waiting for him to continue. "Here's what I've been thinking. We organise using the coins. We take it in turns; they can't watch all of us all the time. We practise proper defensive spells to counteract all that crap the Carrows are trying to teach us, and we take our resistance public. We sneak out and write 'Dumbledore's Army' on walls, and stupid stuff about the Death Eaters. We mock You-Know-Who. We make sure The Quibbler gets passed around, so people know the Ministry isn't all that's out there. We publicly proclaim our support for Harry, and we come out in support of Muggle-borns. We stand up to the Carrows in lessons when we can."
There was a brief silence when he stopped for breath. Ginny and Luna were nodding; the others looked thoughtful.
"I agree that we've got to do something," Hannah said, "but what good will writing graffiti on walls do, really? Isn't it a bit pointless? All it's going to do is wind up people like Snape and the Carrows - and make Filch even more bad-tempered."
"No," said Neville, suddenly sure of himself. "We'll be giving people hope."
* * *
Interlude
"... and so we're driving the Carrows mental." Augusta hesitated and then continued reading to her silent audience. "They haven't a clue what's coming next, and they can't do a thing about it.
"They're quite open about their Dark Marks now, and even some of the Slytherins aren't happy about that, although they daren't show it. So they're getting what they deserve.
"I'm sending this at night; we've just been preparing some surprises for them. I'd better get to bed now - double Defence Against the Dark Arts in the morning. Not that there's much defence involved these days.
"Please tell Mum and Dad and anyone else you talk to (if it's safe) that Hogwarts isn't bowing down to You-Know-Who, whatever you hear officially. Dumbledore's Army is here and fighting!
"Love, Neville."
Augusta looked up. Frank was staring into space in the armchair across from her, and beside him, Alice played with a wrapper from that gum she was always chewing. She made a mental note to bring some more in.
"You hear that?" she demanded, sharpness overriding the pride in her voice. "Neville's a fighter, just like you. He's keeping the Longbottom tradition going."
It was odd, she supposed, that she had taken on the role of protector of the Longbottom name despite being born a Matthews. Well, her husband had left her far too early, and she'd been inordinately proud of her son, until he had been taken from her, too.
Now it looked as if Neville was continuing the family tradition, and it surprised her how much her pride in him was laced with terror. These were tough times to stand up for what was right. Could she bear it if he was taken away as well?
She shook her head to chase her thoughts away. She would bear it, of course. And she would cherish her pride in him for the rest of her life, just as she did with Frank.
If there was any justice in the world, though, Neville would survive.
* * *
1997-1998
Two days later, Professor Snape announced at breakfast that the children who had defaced the Potions corridor would be found and punished. Neville did not dare catch anyone else's eye, but he thought of his parents and wished he could tell them that he was trying to carry on their work. He hoped that Gran had appreciated his letter.
At the next DA meeting, their numbers tripled. Dumbledore's Army was back in business, and thinking up new tricks and other means of resistance became the chief source of entertainment for those who opposed Voldemort.
But despite their efforts, the situation deteriorated both at Hogwarts and beyond. Luna was kidnapped on the way home for Christmas - and Neville and Ginny earned a broken arm apiece and their first experience of the Cruciatus curse in their failed attempt to defend her. This was horrifying enough from a personal point of view, but it also meant losing one of their few sources of information, since Luna's father, presumably terrified for her safety, began toeing the Ministry line along with the mainstream wizarding media. His appeasement seemed to be in vain, because nothing was heard of Luna for months. Nor was there any news of Dean. Seamus was clearly worried for him, despite his assertion that Dean had the wherewithal and common sense to stay out of sight for as long as he needed to. Most depressing of all, there had been no news at all of Harry, Ron and Hermione except for a few stories claiming that Harry had been captured or sighted abroad.
At Hogwarts, the Carrows grew bolder. They had spent their first term seeing how far they could push Snape; by January, enraged by constant defiance and ridicule by the DA, they seemed to have decided that the answer to that was, 'as far as they liked'. Detentions no longer involved other professors, who were expected to send all miscreants to the Carrows for punishment. In reality, school discipline had never been better, since students did their best not to invoke punishment and professors did their best not to hand it out. With a few exceptions, pupils and staff developed a mutually friendly symbiosis.
However, the Carrows found plenty of reasons to impose detentions of their own, and these periods literally became an excuse for torture. Certain students - Crabbe and Goyle in particular - delighted in starting fights so that they ended up in detention with their victims, where the Carrows gave them licence to cast the Cruciatus curse for as long as the detention lasted. Neville and Ginny came in for the worst of it, since they were the readiest to speak out against the new policies - but all the older Gryffindors endured punishment by Cruciatus curse at least once a week, and many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were not far behind.
Each time his turn came, Neville thought about his parents throughout the torture. Where this would once have made him miserable and silent, it now made him angry, and he used that anger to keep himself going as the world darkened around him. When Ginny went home at Easter and didn't return, he found himself sole leader of the resistance and discovered the responsibilities that others expected him to shoulder: comforting Susan after a session with Crabbe in a particularly vicious mood; encouraging Peakes when he lost his nerve; negotiating the release of two second years from a vengeful Filch.
As the torture grew more indiscriminate, Neville sensed a change in attitude towards him. He had been identified as a ringleader in the resistance to Death Eater control of Hogwarts, and he began to suspect that his pure-blood status would not protect him for much longer.
* * *
Interlude
Leaving the unconscious Dawlish to be found whenever someone decided to check on him, Augusta grabbed the bag she'd had ready for weeks, pulled on her hat and Apparated to one of her favourite retreats: a tarn near the top of one of the hills in the Lake District. She spent some time performing Disillusionment and Concealment Charms around the spot where she'd landed before setting up her tent. Some Muggles were camping on the other side of the tarn, but that was all right; they would assume that she was another hiker, and the charms would prevent them from getting close enough to wonder about her attire.
She set up her fishing rod, got the fire going inside the tent and took out a roll of parchment, eyeing her owl speculatively. He was young and reliable, but there were a few different people she wanted to write to, located in various parts of the country.
Neville was most important, she decided, and settled down on a cushion beside her rod. For once, the words came easily and she had no problem filling several inches of parchment. She used her wand to tear it off neatly, rolled it up and affixed it to Wendell's leg before scribbling a few lines for Minerva McGonagall on the remains of the sheet.
"Off you go, then," she ordered. "Keep those safe, and try to deliver them when no one's looking."
He hooted softly and rose into the air.
"And come straight back," she added. "I'll have some food for you, so no hunting, please."
She didn't expect him back before nightfall, but she finished her letters anyway: a note for Algie telling him that she was fine and could he please look in on Frank and Alice once a week until he heard from her again; and a letter to her lawyer instructing him to implement the plan they'd drawn up several months ago. The Longbottom family's assets would remain safe, no matter how perilous the situations of its members.
It was now lunchtime and no fish were biting, so she permitted herself a little magic. Within minutes, she had enough to feed three people and so, judging by their jubilant cries, did the Muggles on the other side of the water.
An hour later, sated and snug in her spare armchair, she made her plans. She'd have to move on as soon as Wendell got back; there was no point sitting and waiting to be caught. She hoped Neville was safe. He was a good boy, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.
Part 2