Chapter five: Pity and Anger
“She will not die in vain… she will not be betrayed…”
Prouvaire and Lesgles; Les Misérables
~ ~ ~
Numbness flushed its way through Neville’s body. His mind seemed to just stop functioning. Blood rushed to his head, and he could hear a sharp ringing in his ears. His feet were getting cold. It felt as though he had tied his shoelaces too tightly and his feet were swelling under the pressure. He was unable to move, suffocated by the heavy air pushing down on his shoulders…
“Neville,” Professor McGonagall whispered.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, but couldn’t do anything in response.
“Neville, please, do something.”
Just a finger. With all of the concentration he could muster, he lifted his index finger and let it fall immediately to his lap.
Professor McGonagall gave his shoulder a little shake.
Finally, thoughts came flooding into his mind, and his head grew hot under their intensity. Images of the office around him faded in and out of miserable, cold, blackness. He felt weighted to the ground. Stuck was the only way he could describe it. I’m just stuck…
He felt his breath quicken as everything around him became tinted a light purple. Panic hit him directly in the face. His shoulders stiffened under his frozen confusion. Suddenly, he gasped for breath. Slowly, he put a hand to his forehead, trying desperately not to faint. He ran his hand down his face and stopped. He had not even noticed the tears falling down his cheeks and collecting in the tired lines on his face.
“Who did this?” Neville finally croaked.
“Neville,” Professor McGonagall whispered again, taking her hand off his shoulder. “It-it was a very dark witch.”
“Who?” Neville demanded, getting quickly to his feet.
“Bellatrix Lestrange,” she said quietly.
Again, the feeling of pure nausea sunk in through his skin.
“I-I-I have to go,” he said, taking a few hurried steps backwards.
“Will y-you be alright?” Professor McGonagall asked. For the first time he could remember, Neville thought he heard shakiness in her voice.
“I don’t know,” he replied simply. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.” With that, he turned straight around and began to run. The corridors were empty; surely it was way after hours. He kept running, down the marble staircase and stopped once he reached the ground floor. A cupboard, that most students just passed, stood in front of him. With a shuddering breath, he opened the door and stepped into the cramped space.
Hunching over his shoulders, he leaned against the wall and slowly slid down until he was seated with his knees at his chest.
“Lestrange…” he hissed. “Destroyed my parents… killed my Gran… might as well have killed me…” With a choky little wail, not completely, he rested his head on the tops of his knees.
Usually, he found comfort in this tiny little cupboard. Today, however, he seemed to keep slipping in and out of reality.
~ ~ ~
In a cold sweat, Neville woke with a start. His young face seemed to have been frightened to the point where age seemed to tell his story on every tiny line. Bellatrix Lestrange had haunted his nightmares again that night. Those words were etched into stone in his mind.
Crucio
He could feel tears streaming down his face while he shook all over.
“Neville,” Gran said quietly, appearing in the doorway. “Neville, dear… was it the dream again?”
The seven year old nodded slowly in response.
“Oh, Neville…” She walked over to him and ran a pale hand through his dark hair. “Just try to get back to sleep. We have to visit your parents in the morning.”
The boy’s eyes widened as he clung to his grandmother’s hand.
”Nothing’s gonna hurt you,
Not while I’m around…” she sang quietly.
Neville let his eyes close and rested his head against the pillow.
“Nothing’s gonna hurt you,
No sir,
Not while I’m around.
Demons are prowling everywhere now a’days.
I’ll send ‘em howling.
I don’t care.
I’ve got ways.
No one’s gonna hurt you.
No ones gonna dare
Others can desert you,
Not to worry, whistle;
I’ll be there.
Demons’ll charm you with a smile
For a while.
But in time
Nothing can harm you,
Not while I’m around…”
~ ~ ~
Footsteps echoed through the staircase, but no voices came with it. With a deep breath, Neville tried to compose himself, but failed.
“Hello?” a quiet voice asked and tapped on the door.
Neville didn’t respond, but just shuffled around a bit so he didn’t have to look at whoever it was.
“Neville, I know you’re in there. We’re the only ones who know about this place.”
It was Ginny.
She pushed the door open and let her eyes soften when she saw him. “Neville,” she whispered, sitting across from him. “What happened?”
Neville didn’t respond. He sat staring at his lap doing everything he possibly could to stop the tears.
“Neville, please,” Ginny said a little more urgently.
“My Gran is dead,” he finally croaked harshly.
“What?” Ginny’s eyes grew to the size of golf balls.
“She’s dead,” he repeated more firmly. “Sh-she was killed.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am!” Neville finally looked up into her deep eyes. “You know I would never lie about something like this…”
The only thing Ginny could do was raise a hand to her mouth and stare. It was the most unexpected reply… “H-how?” she stuttered.
“B-Bellatrix Lestrange.”
Silence.
Ginny said nothing, letting a few glistening tears form and cling to her eyelashes. There was nothing to be said, Ginny and Neville both knew it. Breaking the tension, Ginny leaned over and wrapped her arms around him.
Neville returned the hug, doing everything he could not to sob into her shoulder. They kept their warm embrace until Neville pulled away.
Without words, Ginny understood; he needed to be alone. She stood up, doing nothing to prevent the tears from streaming down her face and pushed the door open timidly. It was empty, thankfully, and she shuffled out.
Neville tilted his head, temporarily taking his thoughts off his current enigma. The picture of Ginny embracing him, tears gleaming in her eyes stuck there, as if her thoughts were powerful enough to etch the image into his skull. She was rather pretty, he noticed, when she was upset. Her eyes had always had the ability to tell an entire story with a single glance.
Slowly, he began to stand and pushed open the cupboard doors, glancing cautiously around.
Nobody was there. Only his own shadow was cast upon the stone wall.
He turned to the staircase and began to climb, careful not to make a sound. Filch had ears like a bat.
Neville stopped suddenly and looked down to his feet. Mrs. Norris stared at him with, if possible, a rather smug look on her face She mewed loudly and turned her gaze back to Neville. His eyes widened. He had a very strong urge to kick the cat, but fought it back and began to run
“Who’s there?!” Filch’s voice echoed through the halls. “Come on out; I know you’re there.”
Neville did not pause, but kept running. If there was a staff member, besides Snape, who had the ability to scare him more than his grandmother had, it was Filch. The Fat Lady came into view and he sped up.
“Glibertmuck!” he gasped.
The portrait swung open, and he clambered through it quickly to find nearly every Gryffindor in the school crammed in. He spotted Hermione immediately, holding Harry’s hand while scribbling down homework.
Before anybody could see him, he ran up to the dormitories and threw himself on his bed. He buried his face in his pillow and let his tears absorb into it.
Hours must have passed as he just sat, hiding from the world.
“Nev?” Seamus walked into the dorm, holding a pile of books in his hand. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” Neville mumbled, only lifted his head from the pillow an inch so Seamus could hear him.
“Oh, come on,” Seamus insisted, rolling his eyes. “You hardly ever get this worked up about anything.”
“It’s nothing!” Neville repeated, twisting the cover on his pillow. “Just leave me alone, okay?” He shut the curtain to his four poster furiously.
More footsteps echoed up the staircase, and Neville snorted loudly.
“Nev’s already asleep?” Dean asked, incredulously.
“What? Sixth year too tough for him?” Harry said sarcastically. The creaking of a bed told Neville that he had just sat down.
“He was really upset ‘bout something,” Seamus informed them. “Crying and everything. I reckon it must’ve been something important. I mean, when was the last time you saw Neville cry?”
“What?” You mean yesterday?” Ron laughed loudly at his own joke and sat down on his trunk.
It was enough. Furiously, Neville opened the curtain of his bed.
“SHUT UP!” he roared, fixing each of them with an icy glare. “It’s none of your business, and you wouldn’t care anyway! So go to bed and stop talking about me!”
The room fell silent immediately; only Trevor croaked quietly, hardly aware of the awkwardness creeping around them. Turning around on his heel, Neville didn’t dare look at any of them. Silently, he sat back down on his bed and shut the curtains. There was a quiet shuffle as everybody else found their ways to their four posters.
When he was sure that they were all trying to sleep, Neville let himself drip off into his nightmare haunted sleep…
~ ~ ~
The next day, Care of Magical Creatures was first. Neville would have done almost anything to miss it. He understood now why Hagrid was so concerned. He had already known, but just couldn’t bring himself to tell him.
With a lump rising in his throat, Neville began to walk to Hagrid’s Hut. The stormy skies had not cleared up over night, but instead darkened. Menacing looking storm clouds threatened to drench the poor students who had classes outside. Thankfully, there was no lightning, so classes would continue until there was.
Neville was the first one there probably because he skipped breakfast. He could see a large shadow against the foggy window shuffling around in the cramped hut. It stopped for a moment, apparently staring straight at him.
After about fifteen minutes, all of the students were assembled in a clump. Hagrid’s shadow, which had not moved, finally began to shuffle to the door.
“Right,” Hagrid called out, closing the door to his cabin behind him. “Today you’ll be researching half ‘umans, such as vampires an’ werewolves an’ such.. We don’ ‘ave any way of firs’ hand research, so you can use ‘is time to look ‘em up in the library. I ‘spect a report on the half ‘uman of yer choice, due nex’ week.”
As the bewildered class began to leave, Hagrid put his hands on Neville’s shoulders, causing him to sink a few centimeters into the mud. “Not yet, Neville. I’d like ter talk ter ya.” He gestured towards the cabin. Grudgingly, Nevile began to walk towards it.
Hagrid shut the door once they were both safely inside, and wiped his brow with a sleeve. He motioned to an over sized arm chair and sat in one opposite it. Neville sat down quietly, staring at his lap as he sunk into the chair.
“Er,” Hagrid grunted, “Anythin’ on yer mind?”
Neville didn’t respond, just looked straight into Hagrid’s too small for his face eyes as though forcing his own thoughts into his head.
“Er-- right…” Hagrid broke his gaze and stared down at the palms of his hands that were resting in his lap. “So, I reckon you ‘eard ‘bout--”
“Yeah, I did,” Neville interrupted sharply.
“So--”
“And I’d rather not talk about it,” he continued, softening his tone.
“Right… it’s not easy, yer know… I mean…” Again, he put his hand on Neville’s shoulder. “J-jus’ don’t rush the healing process. Some things aren’t mean’ ter be fixed so fast. An’ who knows, ya might even learn summin’ through all this.”
Neville merely nodded.
“So Dumbledore gave yer leave from all yer classes today. ‘Parently, he needs ter talk ter ya ‘bout summin’ important.”
Neville, again, didn’t respond.
“Said he wanted ya ter meet ‘im in ‘is office. Password’s Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum.”
“Okay…” Neville whispered, staring at his hands as though they suddenly interested him a great deal.
“Better run ‘long them,” Hagrid said in the same hushed tone. Hagrid walked him to the door and just when he was about to leave, Hagrid ruffled his hair. “Don’t ferget what I told yer.”
As he walked towards Dumbledore’s office, Hagrid’s words rang in his ears over and over. He didn’t even notice the students whispering to each other as he passed, but perhaps that was for the better. Finally, he reached the stone gargoyles that guarded Dumbledore’s office.
“Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum,” he recited quietly.
When he walked into the large circular office, he saw Professor Dumbledore stroking a brilliantly colored phoenix. Hearing Neville’s almost silent footsteps, Dumbledore turned around and sighed quietly. “Sit down, Neville,” he said with a gesture towards a chair in front of his desk.
Neville sat, utterly bewildered.
Dumbledore sat also, behind his desk before lacing his fingers and surveying Neville carefully through them. “Bellatrix Lestrange,” he began abruptly, “has been after the entire Longbottom family since you were a child.”
Neville was not particularly startled to hear this.
“Your grandmother was her latest victim and this has led to concern from both Professor McGonagall and me. In light of these events, we have decided to raise security.” He sighed again, and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his overly large nose. “For your own safety, we will be taking your name off of the list to go to Hogsmeade.”
Neville was about to open his mouth to protest, when Dumbledore continued.
“I assure you, it is for your own well being.” Dumbledore said nothing for a moment before, again, breaking the silence before Neville could say anything. “Over the holidays you will come to,” he lowered his voice, “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.”
Neville looked at him quizzically for a few moments until Dumbledore answered his unasked question.
“Grimmauld Place is the location of the Order of the Phoenix.”
Again, Neville raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“The Order of the Phoenix is a society fighting against Lord Voldemort. Your parents were in it during the first rise of Voldemort. But you will only be staying there. You are too young, far too young, to be fighting. You will not be alone however,” he continued somewhat brightly, “Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny will be there, also.”
Neville smiled the tiniest smile when he heard Ginny’s name, but besides that just nodded. What was he supposed to say when taking in all of this information?
“I will ask you not to tell anybody about this for reasons you can probably understand.” A subtle smile spread across Dumbledore’s aged face, light blue eyes glittering. “Now, before you go,” he said, opening a small tin, “would you care for a lemon drop?”
“What?” Neville tore his eyes off of the phoenix as he wondered if it had anything to do with the Order of the Phoenix. “Oh,” he mumbled sheepishly. “No thanks… I-I’m not hungry.”
Dumbledore saw him eyeing the magic bird. “Beautiful, isn’t he?”
Neville nodded in agreement.
“I’ve had him for quite some time now.”
Neville stayed silent, hardly taking in what Dumbledore was telling him. The phoenix had turned to him, and their gazes locked.
Suddenly, the room around him seemed to disappear and memories came flooding into his mind.
His grandmother was holding his hand tightly, singing him a lullaby…
In a flash of brilliant light, he was singing the same song to his mother as she lay in her hospital bed.
Another flash of light, and people were screaming. His mother was on the floor, writhing in agony…
~ ~ ~
With a start, Neville woke, his eyes wide open. It was still light, or as light as it could get outside. He sat up and checked his watch; it was five in the afternoon.
“Nev?” Harry stood in the doorway, running his hand through his hair. “I-I spoke to Dumbledore after classes today.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah…” He sat down on his own bed. “I heard what happened…”
Neville didn’t even look at him.
“…I just wanted to tell you that you could al-always talk to me, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” Neville grunted unenthusiastically.
Harry let out a long sigh and walked down to the common room.
Hours passed, and Neville sat, arms wrapped around his knees.
At three in the morning, he heard the other boys begin to come up, and he pretended to be asleep.
They didn’t say anything, but just went to sleep themselves. He heard their breath began to slow down, and Neville tiptoed to the common room.
He settled in a large window sill and stared out at the sky. A star was falling outside in a brilliant show of light. It wasn’t beautiful anymore. In fact, he found it rather sad. So much glory being lost as it cut through the deep sky.
“I wish…” he said, shutting his eyes, “that Gran is safe… and I wish… that I can get revenge on Bellatrix Lestrange.”