Chapter Four: All That’s Lost
“But the tigers come at night, with their voices soft as thunder, as they tear your hope apart, as they turn your dream to shame.”
-Fantine, Les Misérables
~ ~ ~
The sun wasn’t what woke Neville up the next morning. Rain pounded on the windows so hard that the only reason they didn’t break was a strong magical charm put on it for that exact reason of saving the windows. Neville opened his eyes and groaned loudly. He hated the rain. Slipping out of his covers, he shivered. Something was wrong, and he could tell, though he couldn’t say why. Shaking his head, he decided not to bother himself about it. He had felt like that before; something in the air was slowly looming towards them. It was probably something that had to do with Voldemort though. It was never a matter for Neville to really worry about. He had nothing to do with Voldemort.
He got dressed silently, not wanting to wake everybody else up and anger them. Finally, when he was completely dressed, he started to head down the stairs. “Ginny!” he whispered once he reached the common room. It was completely deserted. “Ginny!” he shouted a little louder. A hunched over figure walked down the stairs, clutching her stomach.
“Ugh,” Ginny groaned, sitting down on a large arm chair. “I think I caught something.” She shook her head, bright hair flying up in every direction. “I was out when it started raining last night…” She turned to Neville, coughing hard. “I know I shouldn’t have been out … but you know me. Hey, can you do me a favor and take me to the hospital wing?”
Neville nodded slowly, holding out a hand to help her up. Ginny took his hand and stood up slowly. “Thanks…” she whispered. Neville sighed heavily. It would be a very lonely day without her, but what could he do? Ginny looked awful, her freckled face was tinted a light green, and she looked on the verge of vomiting.
The trudge down to the Hospital wing was not the most pleasant of walks that Ginny and Neville had shared together. They passed by a few curious first years, who couldn’t help themselves, and asked, “Oh, what’s wrong? Is she sick? Is she?”
Neville had to shoo them away before they upset Ginny, as she was so easily upset when she was sick. Finally, they reached the Hospital Wing, and Madame Pomfrey stared hard at Neville. “Why is she sick?” she asked sharply, once Ginny was resting in a bed.
“I don’t know! She said she went out last night in the rain!”
“Well, if you come here tomorrow with the same thing, I won’t accept you. You can’t expect me to take care of every student who insists upon running around in the rain.”
Neville turned around and began walking out. “Yeah, I know,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I won’t, don’t worry.” He walked out of the doorway and began to head towards the Great Hall. Once he reached it, he looked up at the ceiling; the sight of rain pouring from the sky, but not hitting the ground had always been enchanting to him. He sad down gloomily at the corner of the table and began picking at a bowl of oatmeal.
“Look at this!” a voice announced. Hermione bustled importantly into the Great Hall and slammed the Daily Prophet down in the space between Harry and Ron. She pointed to a picture of a smirking Bellatrix Lestrange on the front page. “Lestrange!”
Looking up from his breakfast, Neville scooted in a little closer to hear their conversation.
“She tried to get into Hogwarts, it says.” Hermione sat down between Harry and Ron and read the article aloud. “‘Bellatrix Lestrange, a well known Death Eater, tried to break into Hogwarts Castle last night. She was driven away, however, soon after she reached the forest. It is unknown what drove her away, but we have acquired different opinions.
‘We believe that it was a certain magical car roaming around the Forbidden Forest that drove her off,’ claims Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’ And it continues to get different people’s opinions…”
Hermione turned to Harry, a look of pure concern on her face. Harry was in fact, fuming mad. He slammed his fist onto the table and stood up. “She’s looking for me, I bet,” he said a little too loudly.
“Harry,” Ron said, standing up also. “You don’t know that. She was probably doing stuff for … You-Know-Who.”
“Yeah, coming here to kill me!”
“Harry, you shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Hermione said calmly, putting her hand on his shoulder and sitting him down. “She didn’t get here anyway; it’ll be a while before she does.”
Neville stood up, biting the inside of his mouth to stop him from yelling. They all knew what had happened to his parents, and yet, they only looked to Harry when talking about Lestrange. Just because she killed his godfather…
He began to wander down the corridor, fists clenched.
“Well, you know,” Malfoy’s voice cut through the silence. “Bellatrix Lestrange was put in Azkaban for torturing a bunch of blood traitors.”
Neville rounded the corner, hiding behind a gorilla sized Slytherin seventh year, who was cackling stupidly.
“G-d bless the poor souls now stuck in St. Mungo’s because of her!” Malfoy shouted, eying Neville. It seemed that none of the other Slytherins noticed a Gryffindor amongst them, except for him. “I mean imagine what it must be like to go through life always just a few steps behind. Rumor has it they can’t even recognize their own kid! Honestly their own kid! How pathetic is that?”
With a sudden burst of anger and energy, Neville shoved himself through the large group of Slytherins and stood in front of Malfoy. “SHUT UP, MALFOY!” he shouted, reaching a fist back.
“Oh, pudgy little Longbottom is angry?” Malfoy asked sarcastically.
With all his force, Neville swung hard at Malfoy’s face and hit him square in the jaw. Falling back into Crabbe’s massive frame, Malfoy shouted loudly. As he pushed himself up, Neville could see blood dripping down from his lip. Proudly, Neville swung again, this time hitting him in the nose. Before he could swing a third time, however, Goyle grabbed him by the wrist. With wide eyes, Neville tried to fight, but only succeeded in aggravating the monkey-like Slytherin even more. With a swift movement, Neville was thrown to the ground.
As he pushed himself up, Neville could feel blood from his own nose running down his face, and he wiped it on his sleeve. Without a thought, he tackled Malfoy, punching him with all his force. “They’re not pathetic!” he shouted.
BANG!
A sound like a cannon exploded in the crowded corridor. As though on cue, the crowd parted and Professor Snape walked quickly towards them. “Longbottom! Stop fighting this instant!”
Neville did not stop, however, but kept attacking Malfoy with so much enthusiasm that a few Slytherins raised their eyebrows in surprise.
“LONGBOTTOM!” Snape shouted, his voice echoing so it attracted more onlookers.
Once again, Neville didn’t respond, but continued until he felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him up to standing. “Longbottom,” Snape hissed, voice quivering. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Beating the hell out of--”
“The explanation,” Snape interrupted, “is not necessary. Why, Longbottom, do you insist attacking Mr. Malfoy in the corridor?”
“Because me made fun of my--” Neville stopped, and looked down at his shoes, blushing. Unable to finish, he shrugged pathetically.
“Twenty five points from Gryffindor! Mr. Malfoy?” Snape turned his sharp gaze to Malfoy. “Did he hurt you?”
“A little,” Malfoy said, sticking out his chin and wiping the blood off with his sleeve again. “But nothing I can’t handle, sir.”
Neville snorted, and crossed his arms.
“Do you find something amusing about this, Longbottom?” Snape snapped. “I assure you that you will serve detention for a week in my office for this, starting tonight.” He turned to Crabbe and Goyle. “Take Mr. Malfoy up to the Hospital Wing,” he demanded with a sharp glare. Crabbe and Goyle obeyed immediately, attempting to pick Malfoy up carefully, but only dropping him several times. “Be careful, for G-d’s sake!” Snape shouted at their leaving backs.
Finally, he turned his gaze to Neville. “You are to be in my office right after dinner, if you are even a minute late I will take away more points from,” he scowled, “Gryffindor.”
~ ~ ~
The rest of the day passed without anything interesting. News of Neville’s attack, however, reached the entire school by lunch, so he was forced to shoo some curious first years away. Apparently they were in awe that he was able to attack the bully of the school fearlessly. Fearlessly really wasn’t the word he would have called it, though. He just thought it was hot headed and rash.
By the end of the day, Neville was frustrated with everybody in the castle who had asked him about it. People seemed stuck on his stroll out of the usual, amazed that he would ever do such a thing.
But the worst part was detention. Neville only had to serve detention a few times before. In fact, the only time he could ever remember being this frightened for a detention was in his first year when he was caught for trying to warn Harry and Hermione about the dragon.
As he finished up his dinner, a sense of foreboding loomed like a storm cloud above him. It could have been any teacher but Snape who caught him. With a deep breath, he stood up and looked over at the teachers’ table. Snape’s spot at it was empty. He must be waiting for me… Neville thought, beginning to get a little panicked.
As he timidly made his way out of the Great Hall, a hush fell upon the students; they all knew about his detention. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he walked through the great oak doors under the intense heat of all of those eyes. Finally, he was free, his stomach settled a little bit, but it still felt like there were tiny spiders creeping their way up his arms and back.
As he reached the dungeon, he could feel a chill run down his spine. So many painful memories lingered in the maze of corridors. He approached Snape’s office, hand outstretched, and knocked quietly.
“Come in,” the voice hissed.
Neville pushed the door open slowly, taking a moment to soak in his surroundings. Creatures, plants and unrecognizable beings floated in jars of strangely colored substances. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, not knowing where to look or where to go.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Snape asked, standing up and pointing across the room. There was a cauldron, a flame and ingredients that he couldn’t recognize all lined up evenly. “You will be making a dreamless sleep potion,” he began.
“But-” Neville interrupted.
“But nothing, Longbottom,” Snape said harshly. “Get to work. I expect it to be done by midnight.”
“But, Professor, you know I can’t--”
“Five points from Gryffindor,” Snape said, a gleeful smile spreading across his face. “If you keep going like that I’ll make it fifty.”
Grudgingly, Neville sat down in front of the cauldron and picked up the roll of parchment with the instructions hastily written on it.
1. Heat the water until it reaches a simmer.
Neville did as the sheet said, and lit a flame, waiting for the water to simmer. Once it did, he followed the instructions as carefully as he could, but some things he simply could not read. He began to let his mind wander, as he vaguely performed the actions on the sheet. This was bad; he knew he was doing something wrong… Snape would probably take away even more points for it also.
Although he had faked half of the things he did wrong when he took potions, he never had a knack for it. He found the constant following of instructions very tedious. Finally, he finished, and proudly wiped his hands on the legs of his pants. Neville knew there was something wrong. He knew that dreamless sleep potions were supposed to be a rather blissful shade of lavender, from his many nightmares as a child. His potion was a fierce magenta.
Snape looked up from a paper he was grading and smirked. “You did it wrong,” he stated bluntly. With a graceful movement, he stood up and glided over to Neville, examining the potion. “All wrong… You’ll never learn, Longbottom… especially without your friend, Granger, here to help you.” Neville blushed a color to match his potion. “Well, well, well…” He took a flask out of a pocket sewn onto the left side of his cloak. Letting a little bit of the potion drip into it, again, he smirked to himself. “Consistency is all wrong too.” Shaking his head, mockingly disappointedly, he continued. “? I thought a simple potion like this would be easy. I have second years who are passing this potion.”
Neville stood up abruptly, fists clenched so tight that his fingernails dug into his palms. “You know Potions isn’t my strong suit,” he said, trying to regain his mounting temper.
“Is anything else?” Snape asked coldly. “Come back tomorrow,” he said, swishing his wand, causing the potion that Neville had worked so hard on to disappear in a matter of seconds. “I expect you to get it right sometime in the next week, or I will be forced to extend this detention until you do.”
Neville stared intently into Snape’s dark eyes, until Snape turned away and faced his window. “You may go,” he whispered with a quick shake of his head.
Quickly, Neville took a few steps backwards, turned around completely and began walking out of the dungeons. Once he reached the first floor, he began to run. He didn’t know why he had the sudden urge to run, but something inside him was propelling him forward as fast as possible. At the fourth floor, he stopped dead, panting quietly. He could hear footsteps, quiet footsteps, but footsteps none the less. Creeping over to the wall, he snuck across it as quietly as he could. As he did, thoughts of his parents came to mind. Snape was right… he wasn’t very good at anything. He couldn’t help imagining their disappointed faces if they had known what he had become.
Finally, whoever it was rounded the corner, and Neville let out a sigh of relief. Hermione stood there, eyebrows raised at whatever had made a noise. “Oh,” she said, turning to Neville. “It’s just you. Coming back from detention?”
“Yeah,” Neville said, absent mindedly scratching his left arm. He let out another sigh, and looked down at his worn tennis shoes.
“Neville?” she asked softly. “What’s wrong? You seem preoccupied.”
“Nothing…” he answered hastily.
Hermione just raised her eyebrows and cleared her throat, in that I-will-understand-because-I-know-everything way.
He could feel anger rushing up to his head from places where he had tucked it away for all of those years. Furious thoughts came and went in seconds. Why had Hermione been so oblivious? Why did Malfoy think it was funny to make fun of disabled people? Why wouldn’t Snape ever let go the fact that he wasn’t very good at potions? “It’s nothing you would understand,” he whispered.
“I know a lot of things,” Hermione responded.
Typical Hermione. Neville clenched his fists, doing his best not to shoot her a biting glare.
“Books don’t teach everything, Hermione,” he finally spat, lifting his chin up with as much pride as he could muster. “I’m a lot smarter than all of you give me credit for.” And with that, he turned on his heal and continued walking towards the common room.
Finally, he reached the Fat Lady and recited the password. She swung forward, and he crawled through. It was completely deserted; only the embers of a fire remained glowing in the fireplace. Silently, he ran up the stairs and sat down at the edge of his four poster bed. Trevor sat, croaking softly. All of the other boys were asleep, and nothing moved in the still dormitory.
The door opened slowly, to reveal Ginny standing nervously in the door way. “I heard what happened,” she said quietly. She walked over and sat on the edge of his bed. “And I can’t help thinking that it’s my fault…”
“Why would it be your fault?” Neville asked slowly with a little laugh.
“Well, I mean, if I was there… it wouldn’t have happened.”
“No, it would have happened anyway. And you would have gotten in trouble too,” Neville assured her.
“I guess,” Ginny murmured with a shrug. “I just wish I could have been there.”
“You know…” Neville began, choking on his own tongue. “You know, why I was angry?” He couldn’t stand telling this to anybody. He knew that Ginny already knew about his parents, but he didn’t think it was his place to whine about nobody paying any attention to him.
“Why?” Ginny asked quietly, putting a hand on Trevor, who was trying to get away under her grasp.
“Never mind,” he said quickly. “It’s-it’s nothing… nothing important.”
Ginny blinked slowly at him, with the look in her eyes that always made him feel like she was searching him for the truth. “Alright…” she said quietly. “Well, it’s pretty late,” she continued, obviously disappointed that Neville wouldn’t tell her. “I-I have to go.” She got up quickly and walked to the door. “Good night.”
“Night,” Neville replied, lying down on top of his bed. Seamus stirred in his sleep, and Neville began to change quietly.
~ ~ ~
The next day, there was stormy weather again. More cases like Ginny’s flooded the Hospital wing. And, although Madame Pomfrey was able to cure it in a matter of minutes, she was a little overwhelmed with the number of people. The teachers, on the other hand, were getting increasingly aggravated by the number of students they were forced to excuse to get a Pepperup Potion.
As Neville sat down at his spot at the Gryffindor table, Professor McGonagall swooped up to him like a vulture. “Longbottom,” she said, trying to be stern, but unable to hide her quivering voice. “I need to meet with you after dinner in my office.”
“I can’t,” Neville said immediately. “I have a detention.”
“I am aware,” Professor McGonagall began, her glasses quivering on the bridge of her nose, “of your detention with Professor Snape. But I assure you, it can wait a day for this.”
Neville raised his eyebrows. “Right,” he said, standing up. “I-I’ll go find Professor Snape.”
He stood up and watched Professor McGonagall bustle to the teacher’s table. She seemed so distressed. Shaking it off, he began to walk out of the Great Hall, when he stopped suddenly hearing footsteps. Looking up from the floor, he sighed as he saw Professor Snape approaching. Once he rounded the corner, Neville made a timid movement to show he wanted his attention.
“Yes, Longbottom?” Snape asked, examining him down his crooked nose.
“I-I,” Neville choked, biting the inside of his mouth nervously. “I can’t make it to detention tonight.”
“And why not?” Snape asked, with a flicker of irritation in his eyes. Before Neville could respond he continued. “Very well, fifteen points away from Gryffindor.” He smirked and strode away, cloak billowing behind him.
Anger flushed Neville and he dug his heals into the ground, trying not to yell at his former professor. Finally, the door slammed behind him, and Neville let out a long groan. The bell signaling the end of breakfast rang and Neville shuffled to Care of Magical Creatures. Anger still pounded in his ears as he passed other students gossiping happily.
As he walked outside, thunder crashed, and he could have sworn he saw a lightening bolt slowly making its way down into the mountains; but before it made it, something stopped it, causing the electricity to simply stop. The rain fell harder, and Neville quickened his step so he reached Hagrid’s Hut in a matter of seconds.
“Neville!” Hagrid boomed from inside his hut. “Didn’ you ‘ear?”
“No,” Neville shouted back over the thunder. “What?”
“Classes ou’side’re canceled today,” Hagrid continued, opening his door wide. “C’mon inside ‘fore you catch ‘at nasty bug tha’s been goin’ round.”
Neville obeyed and ran into the hut. Shivers ran up and down his spine as rubbed his arms for warmth.
“Er, Neville,” Hagrid mumbled, twisting his hands around his coat. “Any-anythin’ on yer mind?”
“No,” Neville responded cautiously. “Well, I don’t think so. I mean, I’m upset about getting detention, but--”
“Yeah,” Hagrid grunted in response. “But… anythin’ more ‘portant’n ‘at?”
“No, not really…” Neville shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.
“W-well, maybe you should head back up to the castle ‘fore it rains too hard so yer stuck ‘ere.”
Neville nodded in response, and headed to the door silently.
~ ~ ~
“A meeting?” Ginny threw him a towel across the room once Neville had explained his meeting with McGonagall, which he was scheduled to have in about two hours. “Hmm, wonder what she wants to see you about…”
“No idea,” Neville responded, running the towel through his hair to dry it off. “Probably about my detention or something.”
“I s’pose…” Ginny said before turning to the fire thoughtfully.
And the two hours came and went, with nothing but the clock ticking to distinguish one minute from the other. Finally, the clock struck eight, and Neville shot up. “Dinner’s done,” he told Ginny. They had both decided not to go down to dinner. Ginny still felt a little sick from the previous day, and Neville just didn’t want to eat.
“I-I’m going to go,” he continued. “I’ll come back later and tell you what happened.”
Ginny waved, not taking her gaze off of the dancing flames.
~ ~ ~
Knock… Knock… knock…
Neville stood in front of the head of Gryffindor’s office door, waiting patiently for Professor McGonagall to answer.
“Come in,” a hoarse voice said from inside.
Neville put a shaky hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. Once the door had clicked, he pushed all of his weight into it and let the door open under him. The only light in Professor McGonagall’s office was from a rather large magical lamp sitting on her desk.
Bookshelves lined the walls, only breaking for an occasional window.
“I-I’m glad you came, Neville,” she said, without the usual sternness in her voice. “I-I have some news for you.” She waved her hand in front of her desk. A rigid backed chair appeared out of thin air. “Please sit down,” she said solemnly.
“What?” Neville raised his eyebrows; this sounded much more serious than discussing a little temper tantrum.
“Please, sit down.” Again, she motioned towards the chair a little more forcefully.
Blankly, Neville sat, letting his hands fall clumsily at his side. “What happened?” he asked again, raising his eyebrows.
“I-I…” She stopped, took of her glasses, polished them on her sleeve and placed them back on. “I hate to inform you of this Neville… but,”
“What happened?” Neville repeated, eyes flickering with fear.
“Your grandmother was killed.”
~ ~ ~
AN: Thank you Ocean Blue for beta-ing this chapter!