Chapter ten: Bittersweet Revenge
“For the wretched of the Earth, there is a flame that never dies. Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise!”
~Ensemble, Les Misérables
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Neville found the rest of May was much more enjoyable with Ginny. They were usually found sitting under a rather large oak tree on the lawn of the grounds. Ginny found Neville’s knowledge on Herbology helped immensely while she struggled to memorize the names of plants and their characteristics; Neville found Ginny’s knowledge of spells and theories behind them helped him while he studied for the practical in Charms.
Hermione, on the other hand, found nobody helpful, and could be found buried under a pile of books, some of which had absolutely nothing to do with any of her courses. Even when Neville asked her why she had borrowed A Brief History of Egyptian Draughts (a book that was no less than one thousand pages long), she simply snapped “For Potions!”
The first exam for Neville was Herbology. It was a fairly easy exam, consisting mainly of questions about the origins of the plants, and not much of what the plants did. The next exam was Charms. Neville found the practical extremely difficult, although he didn’t make any horrible mistakes. And so he pushed himself through all of his exams. They were difficult enough for him to come out looking up the answers to a few questions, but easy enough for him to know that he would get no lower than an A.
Their last exam was Defense Against the Dark Arts. At nine in the morning, all of the sixth years could be found standing anxiously outside of the Great Hall. Hermione was clearly the most frantic, her bushy hair poking out from behind a huge volume. The great oak doors to the Great Hall opened, and one nervous looking Ravenclaw tried to walk through the doors, only to be stopped by Dumbledore’s outstretched hand. “I will ask you please not to enter, Mr. Murdoch,” he said calmly.
Putting his hand down, he addressed the all of the students. “I’m afraid,” he began, “that we cannot have this exam, yet.” There was a general murmur of confusion that ran through the students. “Your professor seems to have … left without any warning and did not give us a copy of his exam.” The tension in the room seemed to mount higher and higher until Hermione shot up to standing, her eyes wide. “So I’m afraid your exam must be postponed.”
“What?” Hermione walked briskly to Dumbledore. “Professor, you must be joking. We have to take it.”
“I’m afraid, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, “that I am not joking.”
Slowly, students began to trickle out, muttered annoyed or excited comments to each other until the only people left in the hall were Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville. Neville, suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable, left the room, head pointed to the ground. Right when he did, he heard a sudden shuffle of steps and hushed voices.
“The Golden Trio’s at it again…” he muttered to himself, stuffing his hands into his pocket. Feeling rather prepared for this exam, Neville thought it would be best to take a break from studying. He wandered the halls, which were extremely deserted, considering that the majority of the students were sitting exams. He found himself in the common room sitting in front of the fire place.
The fact that Rabastan Lestrange escaped scared him very much; he was a powerful wizard surely with revenge on his mind. Letting his eyes close, Neville shuddered at the thought. His eyes quickly snapped open and he stood up, running his hands through his hair. Without thinking, he raised his wand and muttered, “Accio Floo Powder!”
A leather bag of Floo Powder zipped across the common room. Neville caught it in his left hand and pocketed his wand. Taking a pinch of powder out of the pouch, he walked over to the fire place. With a sigh, he pulled out a pinch and threw it into the fire muttering, “St. Mungo’s Hospital!”
He landed softly in the sooty fireplace and brushed himself off before scooting out of the way so other travelers would not land on him. The welcome witch recognized him immediately and said, “Your parents just had lunch. They are probably having a nap, right now. Would you prefer to wait or do you want to come back later?”
“No, it’s fine,” Neville replied flatly as he turned to the stairs and began to climb them. It seemed to be a rather slow day at the hospital with only disgruntled looking Healers bustling by. Neville found himself having to flatten against the wall more than once to let a group of Healer interns examining a dead toad on a cart rush by.
It took almost ten minutes to reach his parents’ ward. And once he did, everything seemed hushed. Most of the long term patients took naps around this time. A Healer with a stack of envelopes in her arms smiled at him and said, “They just went to sleep, but I’m sure that they won’t be too cranky to be woken.” Neville returned the smile and jogged over to their beds.
Frank was snoring loudly, ruffling his hair every time he let out some air. Alice flinched at every snore and then regained a peaceful smile during the moments of silence. Pulling up a stool, Neville sat down in between their beds and was about to place his hand on his mother’s when the door slammed open. Alice’s eyes opened to the size of Galleons and sat up while Frank slowly pried his eyes open and didn’t even bother to sit up.
A hooded wizard stood in the doorway stood with his arms crossed. Although Neville could not see his face, somehow he knew that the man was smirking. He stole a quick glance over at Alice; the look in her eyes told him immediately who it was. As the wizard lowered his hood, Neville stood up, pulling out his wand. Rabastan Lestrange stood before him, a confident sneer etching along his face.
“You,” Neville croaked, jabbing his wand threateningly towards him. “You “ what are you doing here?”
“To find you,” Rabastan replied simply. He pulled out his own wand, long, dark and menacing, and pointed it at Neville. Before Neville could do anything, he hissed, “Stupefy!”
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The images around him were extremely blurry as his eyes began to open. He was on the ground, and it was rather cold. Flickering torches did a horrible job illuminating the dungeon around him. The ground was the same cold stone that made up the Hogwarts dungeons. Blinking to get the blur out of his eyes, Neville sat up and glanced around in disorientation.
Suddenly, he realized what must have happened and stood up, finding his wand in his pocket. He pulled it out and muttered, “Lumos” to illuminate the shadowed dungeon around him.
A harsh laugh from the corner made him jump like a first year who had just destroyed his first cauldron. Bellatrix Lestrange stepped into the wand light and grinned at him, making sure no ounce of happiness reached her dark eyes. She looked exactly like she had the previous year. Neville’s mouth went dry and he held his shaking wand a little higher.
“Longbottom,” Bellatrix sneered. She raised her own wand and added, “Finally without your hero Potter.”
“Sh-shut up,” Neville hissed, lacking the confidence to cover up his fear.
Again, her laughter filled the room, and Neville couldn’t help shuddering. With a sneer she continued, “I was hoping that we would meet again. After all of the hustle and bustle of last year, I felt that we had to leave Potter out of it this time. He isn’t here to save you this time.”
“I don’t need him to--”
“CRUCIO!” she shrieked, the words bouncing off of the walls.
The spell hit him before he could do anything about it. He collapsed immediately to his knees as his face collided with the ground. Although familiar with this curse and its effects, Neville’s mind raced into confusion it did its job.
Needles must have been working into his skin. Everywhere a needle would be forced into him. White, hot burning needles that would drive him insane if it didn’t stop soon enough. The pain triggered memories into his past, and Neville bit his lip, determined not to scream. He couldn’t show weakness, not now. This was his time for revenge.
The curse continued and intensified.
Now his bones were breaking, all at the same time, slowly and constantly. His head was being slammed into a wall, while knives were twisted in every inch of his limbs. But still, he wouldn’t scream or yell. He just waited, trying to steer his mind away from the pain.
The spell might have gone on for hours or minutes, Neville really couldn’t tell the difference, his mind clouded by the pain. But finally the curse was lifted, and Neville slowly pushed himself up so he was on his knees, panting.
“It seems that you have gained strength since last year,” Lestrange said in a wisp of a voice. “You didn’t scream like a child like last time.” Neville slowly stood up, careful not to collapse; he would not be vulnerable. “I am, though, impressed with whatever strength you have gained. Not many can keep that silent.”
Neville raised his wand and pointed it at her; he couldn’t think of anything to say, so just kept silent.
Bellatrix raised her eyebrows, and pulled out her own wand. “Are you going to hurt me, little Longbottom?” she asked in a mocking voice.
“I-I’ll sure as hell try,” Neville stuttered.
“Go ahead then,” she continued in the same tone, “hurt me. Get your revenge for you dear, sweet, parents.”
“Why did you do it?” Neville finally asked, his voice quivering.
“Why did I do it?” Lestrange repeated. “Why did I do it? Do you know nothing of the Dark Lord and his supporters? Do you know nothing of loyalty? After Potter destroyed him, the Death Eaters all fled. Those cowards fled, while the true supporters had to fight the Ministry. It wasn’t long after we heard of the Prophecy. It seems our friend Wormtail let the information about it slip.” She sneered. “All of us wondered who would end up killing who; but nobody really looked into the depths and wondered more possibilities.”
Neville narrowed his eyes, and made sure his wand was clearly visible.
“But I am not like those other idiots,” Lestrange explained. “I knew there might be more mysteries. So I had to ask those who were not in hiding who might have else defied us three times.”
Neville lowered his wand, suddenly feeling very sick. “And you found us,” he finished.
“And I found … you,” she spat. “But somehow… somehow you, little baby, escaped, with protection from you dear grandmother.”
Neville’s anger flared and his eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare talk about her,” he shouted in a booming voice, very uncharacteristic of him. “She was a wonderful woman and you destroyed her.”
“I have destroyed many people,” she replied sharply, and added, “many more wonderful than your parents and your grandmother.”
She had said it. All restraints Neville had up snapped and he pointed his wand towards her neck. With a great slashing movement, he shouted, “ADFLICTAMUS!”
It seemed to happen in slow motion; a jet of icy purple light shot from his wand with all the power that he could imagine coming from the phoenix feather and flew towards Bellatrix Lestrange’s throat. It hit with such a force that she was thrown backwards into the stone wall. The thud from the impact on the wall seemed to bring everything up to normal speed. Neville lowered his wand, what he had just done slowly sinking in.
Lestrange’s throat was slashed. Crimson blood was pouring from her neck, staining her robes. It was hard to tell, but Neville thought, for a moment, that she was smiling.
“I underestimated you, Neville Longbottom,” she hissed, in a hoarse voice. Her eyes clouded as she fought to keep them open. They shut, and Neville for a moment thought she had finally died before she said, “You are a much stronger wizard than you look.” A mile long silence stretched and filled the room, as Neville waited. Suddenly, something seemed to fill Lestrange. She seemed to raise no more than an inch off the ground before going completely limp. Neville knew, then, that she had died for good.
CRACK!
Dumbledore appeared in the dungeon, appearing just as distressed as he had the previous year. “What happened?” he asked in a rushed voice.
“I-I… Lestrange…” Neville stuttered, dropping his wand.
“Don’t move,” Dumbledore said as softly as he could.
Neville didn’t listen, though, and snatched his wand from the ground. Dumbledore grabbed him by the arm, and for a moment, Neville thought he had made him angry. But before he could apologize, there was a loud CRACK and Neville found himself an instant later at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
His confusion grew as he pondered how that was possible. He never knew that you could Apparate with somebody else, but he supposed that with a wizard powerful like Dumbledore, anything was possible.
They were in the drawing room, Neville noticed. Dumbledore gestured towards a stiff looking arm chair. Neville sat, and Dumbledore sat on one across from it.
“I know…” Dumbledore began in his calm voice, “that this is still fresh in your mind, but for my own purposes-” his eyes flickered merrily “-could you explain what just happened?”
Neville took in a deep breath that seemed to go on forever, before answering, “Okay…” He licked his lips, deciding where to start. “After you told us the exam had been canceled I went to St. Mungo’s.”
His story lasted longer than he would have thought. It must have taken him an hour to describe every detail of the events of that day. Finally he finished, and looked to Dumbledore. Dumbledore, in response, glanced down at his lap, thoughtfully. “I-I didn’t mean to-to kill her,” he stuttered shakily. “I-I just was more powerful th-than I thought I was.”
“A lesson learned by all tonight,” Dumbledore said, nodding slowly. “I think it is only fair to tell you that Rabastan Lestrange has been caught.” His eyes twinkled still, as though waiting for Neville to squeal with delight before he continued. “I realized, once you left, that you had been right the entire time. It pieced together perfectly. I went immediately to my office, to get information, and found out that he was at St. Mungo’s. I went to head him off, but once I arrived, I found him laughing.” Neville’s mouth went dry again. “I just missed Bellatrix, he told me, and that by the time I would get there you would be dead. It didn’t take long for the Ministry to get there, but those precious moments are what slowed me down.”
Neville looked at his lap, a smile beginning to form.
“Originally, we had meant to question Lestrange… but I think this is better. Your life is no longer at risk, Voldemort lost a valuable servant with no chance of getting her back, and she was lucky enough to avoid the Dementors.”
Neville let out a sigh and slumped back in his chair. His mind was racing, but he didn’t want to listen to it anymore. Trying to lighten the mood, he asked, “So I studied that long for nothing?’
“Oh, I wouldn’t say it was for nothing,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “The exam has been canceled, yes, but the knowledge will help you for the rest of your life. No doubt you would make an excellent Auror.”
Neville beamed with pride, never having even considered that option.
“NEVILLE!” a shrill voice echoed through the hall.
“BLOOD TRAITORS! STINKING UP MY OWN HOME! MY FAMILY’S HOME! DISGUSTING!”
Dumbledore laughed softly and said, “That’s a rather disturbing portrait, I’d say. I think I’ll go handle it.”
As he exited, Ginny entered the room, her face a deep red. Neville stood up, grinning.
“NEVILLE! NEVILLE! NEVILLE!” She ran over to him and hit him with an odd combination of a tackle and a hug that only Ginny would be able to do. “Neville I was so worried about you! Seamus told me he saw you stepping into the fire and I didn’t know--”
“Ginny, it’s okay,” Neville said softly. “I’m fine…” He returned the hug, unable to contain his happiness; for the first time in sixteen years, he felt complete.
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Author's Note: I want to thank everybody who continued reviewing, even though I said the story was abandoned. That really was what made me pick up this story again. I hope you like the ending, and thank you all so much for sticking with me!
Eponine