Chapter seven: Untold Secrets
“So dark! So dark and deep! The secrets that you keep!”
-Cosette, Les Misérables
~ ~ ~
The rest of November passed quickly enough. Once Neville and Hagrid convinced everybody that Fang had gotten very excited, the rumors died in a matter of days. December passed also, fairly quickly. Nothing much interesting happened, except for a triumphant Gryffindor victory over Hufflepuff in a fantastic Quidditch game.
The last day before the Christmas holiday found Neville packing his trunk bitterly. It was rather empty, compared to all of his other dorm mate’s.
“NEVILLE!” Ginny screeched jumping into the dorm. “COME ON!” She was obviously excited to get to spend the holiday with her best friend. “Hurry up! Hurry up! We’re all waiting for you in Dumbledore’s office!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” He picked up a sweater sitting on his bed and slipped it on. His Gran had made it for him a few years ago; it was no Weasley sweater, but it was good enough for him. With a great heave, he picked up his trunk and struggled with it for a few moments.
“Oh don’t be stupid!” Ginny said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. With a complicated wave of her wand, his trunk became as light as a feather. “Come on!” And she took off at a run, Neville followed not far behind, huffing and puffing while trying to keep his trunk from bruising his knee caps. Finally, they arrived in front of the stone gargoyle, and Ginny shouted, “Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum!”
They burst into Dumbledore’s office, Neville clutching a stitch at his side.
“Glad you decided to show up,” Ron exclaimed sarcastically.
“We must hurry,” Dumbledore interrupted. “The Ministry will notice the illegal Portkey.” He held out a very poorly knitted sock. “Don’t worry about your trunks,” he continued, gesturing towards the pile of trunks on the other side of the room. “We will have them there a matter of seconds after you. Now, everyone put a finger on the Portkey.”
Everybody obeyed, Neville a little warily. He hated Portkeys; they always made him sick. To take his mind off of the nauseating journey ahead of him, he glanced around the circle. Ginny looked excited as before. Ron wore the same expression as his sister, standing between Harry and Hermione. Harry was staring at his shoes, while Hermione had her nose up high in the air. Neville and Ginny exchanged glances; things must not have gotten better since the break up.
“Three,” Dumbledore began, trying to break the silence. “Two-” Hermione let out a frustrated sigh “-one!”
A jerk near Neville’s naval made him wince. It was extraordinary magic, no matter how much he hated it. In a matter of seconds, they landed loudly in the hall of an old manor.
Neville struggled to standing before holding out his arm to help Ginny up also. But as she began to stand, curtains on the other side of the room were flung open, and a portrait hidden behind them started screeching. Rather surprised, Neville dropped Ginny, and she landed with an “OOF!”
“BLOOD TRAITORS!” the portrait shrieked. Neville noticed that the subject looked like she was in quite a lot of pain. In fact, she looked as though somebody was standing behind her performing the Cruciatus curse. He shuddered as the effects of that curse came to mind. “MUDBLOODS!”
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Weasley walked out of a door and ran up towards them. “Oh, it’s great to see all of you.” A smile spread across her face as she surveyed each of them in turn, Neville for a moment longer than everyone else. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up; he had always hated being stared at like some sort of animal.
“STINKING UP MY HOUSE WITH THEIR FILTH!”
“Well,” she said, turning to the portrait still screeching. “I better quiet that before she gets all of the other portraits going.” With that, Mrs. Weasley ran off to try and shut the curtains.
A group of adult witches and wizards followed, all looking thoroughly annoyed at the painting. “Ah!” Professor Lupin jogged up to them, running a hand through his prematurely graying hair. “It’s great to see that you all got here.” The comment seemed to be directed towards Neville, though nobody else seemed to notice. “I hope you’ve all been well,” Lupin continued.
“’ello, everybody!” A woman who couldn’t be older than twenty three ran up to them, waving enthusiastically. Her hair was a fiery orange, bright enough to rival any of the Weasley’s. She had a rather small nose and eyes the color of storm clouds. She greeted everybody enthusiastically until she got to Neville and stopped. “Longbottom?” she asked with raised eyebrows.
“Er ” yeah… don’t mean to be rude or anything… but who’re you?” Neville asked, frowning slightly.
“The name’s Tonks!” the woman said with a wink.
“Hi, Tonks,” Neville muttered a little awkwardly.
“Maybe,” Lupin interrupted, “Harry and Ron should show Neville where he’ll be staying? We put an extra bed in that room for you three.”
“Er, okay!” Ron began to take off towards the stairs, waving his hand for Harry and Neville to follow. They did, somewhat grudgingly. Neville noticed that Harry held his gaze with Lupin for quite some time before shifting his concentration to the steep stairs he was climbing. “Right over here, Nev,” Ron informed him, pushing the door open. “Your bed is right there!” He pointed to a rather rickety looking bed under a window that cast eerie shadows across it.
A shiver ran up and down Neville spine as he saw his trunk at the foot of it. Without looking towards either of them, he began to walk towards the bed and sat down. Seeing their expectant faces, he smiled softly, as though to tell them that it was a fine place to stay.
“Kreacher would think,” a wheezy voice said from the corner, “that Harry Potter and Weasley would not be coming back. And who’s is this who Kreacher sees in the corner? Some sort of blood traitor, Kreacher’s sure. Mudbloods and blood traitors are stinking up my mistress’s house.”
“Kreacher!” Harry suddenly became enraged. “Kreacher you lying bastard! Get out!!” Reaching towards his bed, he picked up a pillow and threw it violently in Kreacher’s direction.
“Harry Potter,” Kreacher said, the pillow skimming the top of his ears, “has quite a nasty temper, Kreacher has noticed.”
“Kreacher,” Ron said, a little more calmly, “get out.”
The elderly house elf, apparently called Kreacher, laughed and crossed his withered arms.
“Er, hi,” Neville said, standing up and walking towards the old house elf. “My name’s Neville Longbottom.”
Kreacher’s eyes brightened with as he heard Neville’s name. “A Longbottom?”
“Get out, Kreacher!” Harry demanded, a worried look sweeping over him.
Without another word, Kreacher turned around and left the room, chuckling to himself.
“Don’t go mixing around with that scum!” Harry shouted to Neville, slamming the door.
Ron stared down at his lap; he obviously knew what was going on.
“What?” Neville asked, blinking. “What’s so bad about that house elf?”
“It’s his fault that Sirius died!” Harry shouted after a moment’s hesitation.
Neville ran a hand through his hair nervously. “Oh,” was all he managed to mutter. He glanced over at Ron, who was staring determinately at an empty portrait on the wall.
“I’m going to see if Buckbeak is still there,” Harry muttered, picking his pillow up from the ground and throwing it onto his bed. His face turning a deep shade of red, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
“Bit of a problem, that house elf was,” Ron explained again.
“Yeah, I could tell.” Neville sighed heavily and ran a finger over the rough sheets of his bed.
They sat in silence for almost half an hour, until the door creaked open slowly. Ginny’s head popped in the door, and she mumbled, “Hey, dinner’s ready. Have either of you seen Harry? Mum’s really worried about him…”
“I think he’s with Buckbeak,” Ron responded. Neville just shrugged; he had thought that Buckbeak had been killed in their third year, but strange things were always happening around Hogwarts.
“Oh.” Ginny turned around and shouted down the stairs. “Hermione! He’s with Buckbeak!”
A flustered “Okay” was the only response.
“Right, c’mon. Mum’ll go mad if we’re late.”
~ ~ ~
A few days passed in awkward silences. Neville felt very left out, despite Ginny’s attempts to include him in everything. The truth was just that he had never been there before; he didn’t know who this house elf was and how he killed Sirius Black. New members of the Order of the Phoenix arrived every day. Mad Eye Moody, once, came with a stack of parchment about as thick as all of Neville’s books combined.
Finally, Christmas morning arrived. It wasn’t something Neville was particularly looking forward to, considering that he had no family to share it with. What a selfish thought, he kept reminding himself. Harry didn’t have any family either, and he was never whining about it. Well, except for last year…
“NEVILLE!” Ginny’s shrill screech woke him on Christmas morning. Neville shot out of his bed to see Ginny in pink pajama pants she had obviously grown out of a few years ago and a violet tank top, sitting at the foot of his bed. “C’mon! Get up! It’s Christmas!”
Neville laughed; Christmas had always been Ginny’s favorite holiday. He stood up to reveal his pajama pants, decorated with a rather predictable pattern of toads, and a muggle T-shirt with the words Star Wars across the bottom and some sort of muggle airplane shooting at another; he had gotten the shirt from his Great Uncle Algie, after he tried living as a muggle for two weeks.
Ginny grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him up the stairs to a rather extensively decorated tree in drawing room. Presents in sparkling wrapping paper sat under the fairy decorated tree. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already there, picking their own presents out of the bunch. Ron, of course, was sitting in between Harry and Hermione, who seemed to have softened up towards each other because of the holiday, but still didn’t seem to be where they used to.
Once each of them had a rather large pile in front of them, they began to unwrap their gifts. Harry, who was the first to unwrap a rather measly sized box, held up a toothpick. “They get nicer every year,” he said, throwing the toothpick into the fire, which crackled in the corner.
“Who was that from?” Neville inquired, amazed that anybody would bother to send a toothpick.
“The Durlseys,” Harry responded, rolling his eyes. “My aunt and uncle and cousin. I grew up with them.”
“Oh…” Neville began to carefully peel the wrapping paper off of a package that looked suspiciously like a Weasley sweater. Ron already opened his maroon sweater, and Ginny was tearing opened hers, which was light lavender; Hermione also began to unwrap hers; it seemed to be leaning in the scarlet direction. Neville finally picked his up. His face fell when he saw it, hideous mustard yellow, with a pale blue N knitted in the front.
Ron snorted when he saw this, and dropped the case of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans that Ginny have given him. “Yours is even worse than mine!” he exclaimed, stifling his laughter with his fist.
Hermione, on the other hand, tried to smile and said, “I think it’s quite nice.”
“It’s okay,” Neville said, laughing quietly. “It’s kind of funny, actually.” He slipped it on over his Star Wars shirt. By then, Harry had unwrapped his. It was a bottle green, the same color as his eyes. That seemed to be the popular color for Harry. “Fudge from Hagrid!” Neville announced, taking his eyes off Harry.
“Wouldn’t eat that if I were you,” Ron said through a mouth full of Bertie Bott’s. “You’ll probably regret it later, when you have to go get four teeth replaced.”
Next to Ron, Hermione squealed with delight, holding up a large leather bound book with the title ‘Enhancing Magical Protection “ How to Stop Muggles from Noticing.’ “Oh Ron!” she shouted, embracing Ron. “How did you know I’ve wanted this?!” Ron grinned to reveal his half chewed sweets, and Hermione left the rest of her gifts unnoticed and cracked the book.
Neville, however, continued opening. He ended up getting a huge book about Defense Against the Dark Arts from Harry, chocolate frogs from Ron, and a plant called an Auctidym plant from Ginny. She explained that the plant only flourished in an environment with a couple, and was very rare. Neville blushed at this; his present for her, a silver charm bracelet, was not nearly as good as that.
Once everybody had gone to help Mrs. Weasley with her Christmas dinner, Neville rushed to his room, telling everybody that he was going to work on a makeup assignment. The room was empty, except for piles of presents on Harry and Ron’s beds. Following their lead, Neville dropped his own gifts on the bed and pulled a pinch of Floo powder out of his pocket. With a deep breath, he threw the powder into the flames, and whispered, “St. Mungo’s Hospital!”
In a flash of green flame, he was spinning through fireplaces of the Wizarding community until he landed loudly in the main hall of St. Mungo’s. Without a word to the witch at the front desk, he found his way to his parent’s ward and knocked quietly.
“Come in!” a hushed voice said.
Neville pushed the door open, to see his father sleeping, and his mother staring at a picture of what appeared to be him as a boy.
“Frank just got to sleep,” the Healer said quietly. “You may not want to wake him, but Alice just woke up.” Neville smiled and nodded at her. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered, before going to tend for other patients.
Neville tip toed over to his mother’s bed and sat down on a stool next to her. “Hi, mum,” he said quietly, taking a peek at the picture. It was, in fact, him as a small child. The picture waved and grinned sheepishly, pointing to a stain on his jeans. Neville remembered the day immediately. It was when he had fallen off of his toy broom and fell down a hill. “I see you got the picture that G-Gran sent you a few months ago.” Alice nodded, eyes glittering with excitement. “I love you mum, and I’d love to stay longer… but nobody knows I’m here and I don’t want them to worry… I’ll visit you again soon, okay?” Alice tore her eyes off of the picture and smiled widely; Neville flashed a smile also, the same smile as his mother’s.
“Merry Christmas, mum,” he whispered, putting a locket on her bedside table. The Healer would assume that he left it, once she looked at the picture inside. Gran and him waved merrily in the heart shaped frame.
Hurriedly, Neville rushed to the fire and quickly found himself in Grimmauld Place in his bedroom. It was empty, thankfully, and he rushed down the stairs into the kitchen.
“Neville!” Mrs. Weasley shouted, once Neville ran through the doorway. “Where have you been? I thought you were in your room, but when Ginny looked for you fifteen minutes ago, you weren’t there!”
“Oh,” Neville muttered, thinking fast. “Well, I went looking for Buckbeak… I always liked him, but I couldn’t really find him. I found myself wandering around this old house…”
“Oh, well don’t go opening any cabinets, dear,” she said, returning to a soup that she was cooking. “Things seem to spring out of them.”
The rest of that day passed quickly. Neville thoroughly enjoyed sitting at steps right in the hall and seeing all of the wizards popping in and out for the holiday. With all of the Apparating, the screaming portrait must’ve gone off at least seven times in the course of that day. Finally, Christmas dinner was ready, and all of the inhabitants (except for Kreacher and maybe a doxy or two) reported to the overly crowded kitchen.
“How was your Christmas, Neville?” Lupin asked. Neville jumped; he hadn’t even noticed him. He turned to Ginny, who was sitting next to him, raising his eyebrows. She shrugged in response.
“Er ” it was okay,” Neville said, as Mrs. Weasley put a rather large turkey in the middle of the table. “I got a Weasley sweater,” he said, pointing to his mustard yellow sweater before adding, “and a great Auctidym plant from Ginny.”
“Ah,” Lupin exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “The Auctidym plant! One of the rarest, native to … Turkey, if I’m correct?” Neville and Ginny both nodded. “Yes, I don’t even think that Professor Sprout has one. She would be very interested in seeing it, once you get back to school. As for the thriving in an atmosphere with a loving couple…” A split grin illuminated his scratched, bruised, and sunken in face. “I’m sure it will thrive here, because of Molly and Arthur. Hopefully, it will in Hogwarts too… I’m sure all of the “ er ‘teenage romance’ should give it some life.” Ginny began giggling, as she speared a piece of broccoli onto her fork.
Crack!
Dumbledore appeared in the kitchen, rubbing his forehead. He had never seemed so old to Neville. Now, he looked somewhat like one’s crazy great-great-grandfather who just escaped from a retirement home. “Ah!” The flicker returned back to his eyes as he saw the fabulous Christmas dinner. “Molly you’ve outdone yourself,” he added, flashing a smile towards Mrs. Weasley. “Well, I’d love to stay, but unfortunately, it must be a quick visit. I’ve only escaped the Christmas dinner at Hogwarts for a few moments, telling Minerva I was going to the bathroom, and I fear if I’m away too long she might think I have more problems than I appear to.”
Laughter rang through the cramped kitchen at that comment. Neville watched Butterbeer squirt out of Ron’s noise, and he hurriedly picked up his napkin to conceal it.
“I’m afraid, however,” Dumbledore continued, more solemnly this time, “that a simple ‘merry Christmas’ is not why I have come here. We are in need of some insider information. Severus Snape has been kind enough to make us a good amount of Veritaserum. Tomorrow you are to go to Azkaban Prison and question these-” he pulled out a large scroll or parchment “-prisoners.”
Lupin took the parchment and scanned the names carefully. “Is the prison keeper aware of us coming?”
“Yes, he is,” Dumbledore replied, taking his hat off and wiping his brow. “And,” he added, attention turning to Harry, Hermione, Ron, Neville and Ginny, “since this mission involves such a low level of danger, I think it would be suitable for everybody to attend.”
Ginny’s face lightened immediately, and Neville heard her whisper, “Yes!”
“Now, I should get going before anybody gets suspicious,” Dumbledore finished, taking out his wand and flicking it.
Crack!
He disappeared again, and the kitchen burst into excited talk of the next day. Ginny immediately turned to Neville and shouted, “Oh I can’t believe we finally get to do something for the Order!” Her face was a light pink with excitement. “They told us we wouldn’t be allowed to do anything until we left school! This is so exciting!”
“BLOOD TRAITORS!”
“Oh damn!” Arthur Weasley shouted, letting his silverware fall to his plate with a loud clatter. “Who would Apparate here now?!” He stood up and ran a hand over the balding spot on his head. “Well, I’ll go shut that damn painting up!”
“Merry Christmas, all!” two voices chimed from the doorway. Fred and George walked through the doorway, in all of their grinning, freckled, glory.
“OH!” Mrs. Weasley stood up also, and ran over to the twins. “Fred, George, what took you two so long?”
“Business has been booming!” George announced proudly.
“We just had to finish up some last minute sales,” Fred continued.
George settled between Ron and Ginny. “So,” he said as Fred sat on the other side of Ron. “What have we missed?”
“Well,” Ron explained, “Tomorrow we’re going to Azkaban to question some of those Death Eaters.”
Fred’s face lightened and he chuckled to himself. “Oh, I doubt you’ll get anything out of them,” he said, serving himself a huge helping of turkey. “Those loonies must’ve lost it years ago.”
“That bloody portrait!” Mr. Weasley entered the kitchen. “We should take a leaf out of her book and put a permanent sticking charm on a veil and cover it.” He sat back down at his place and starting furiously ripping apart a turkey leg. At the world ‘veil’ Harry twitched rather noticeably.
Hours passed, and Neville was just finishing up a very generous helping of pudding when Mrs. Weasley said, “We’ll have to get up very early tomorrow morning.” There was a mutual groan that ran through the entire room. “Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Neville, I want you all to bed.”
Without another word, they stood up and shuffled out of the room.
~ ~ ~
The sun was hardly up that morning when Mrs. Weasley gently shook Neville up. “We’re leaving in half an hour,” she said softly. “Dress warm, we’re going up north.”
Neville groaned and pushed himself out of bed, fumbling through his trunk to find clothes. The sleep in his eyes cleared up and he peered around the room to find Harry and Ron digging through their trunks, also. After five minutes of dressing in silence, Neville wandered down to the kitchen in the sweater his Gran made for him, under his new Weasley sweater, a pair of very heavy sweatpants and his school robe. Ginny followed in a similar outfit, and sat down in silence, rubbing her eyes groggily.
Mrs. Weasley bustled across the kitchen and placed two hard boiled eggs in front of them. “We don’t have time for a huge breakfast… and you won’t want to eat much yet, anyway, with all of the dementors around.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione came down shortly after. Hermione made herself a piece of toast, while Harry and Ron took hard boiled eggs also. Nobody spoke; they used all of their energy to focus on eating and waking up.
Crack! Fred and George stood next to their mother, who was holding her heart and panting heavily. “Boys, if I have told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times!” she began, furiously.
“Mum,” George whined “You can’t expect us to walk down the stairs if you’re going to wake us up so early!”
“Everybody ready?” Mr. Weasley asked from the doorway. “We’re taking Floo Powder, and then there will be a short boat ride. So I brought these.” He pulled out a poncho and displayed it proudly. “There’s one for everybody!”
Ginny’s eyes grew to the size of galleons as she saw the poncho. “Oh dad,” she whispered, blushing fiercely.
In a matter of seven minutes, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Hermione, Harry, Lupin, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, and Tonks were all standing in front of the fire place. All of the other Order members couldn’t get out of their jobs for the day. “Right,” Professor Lupin held out a pot of Floo Powder. “Tonks, you should go first, since you know the place better than all of us. Molly, Arthur, you two should go next. Then all of the kids… and I’ll bring up the rear.”
They obeyed, and stood in a sort of line, waiting for their turn. Finally, once Ginny had disappeared into the emerald flames, Neville reached into the pot and took a pinch of powder. He disappeared in a flash, and began spinning until he landed loudly in the fireplace.
Neville stood up, and examined his surroundings. It was a room that wouldn’t be out of place in the Hogwarts dungeons. There was a drip, somewhere that seemed to be irritating Ron very much. Once Lupin landed in the fire place, he pointed to a door that Neville would have sworn wasn’t there before. Tonks pushed it open lightly, and held it for everybody to pass through.
It led to a dock, with a pathetically sized boat rocking back and forth on the icy waters. Ginny was the first to clamber into the boat. It rocked dangerously, but calmed down after a few seconds. Very carefully, everybody followed her lead. Once they were all packed into the aged boat, Lupin tapped it with the back of his wand. At an unnerving speed, the boat took off, zooming across the body of water.
A distant island came into view after half and hour of the sickening ride. Once the boat bumped lightly onto shore, everybody clambered out, grateful to be on dry land. “You’re Dumbledore’s party?” an elderly wizard asked. He was a very odd character, Neville noticed. His ears stuck out far too much, and his right was much higher up than his left. His hair was brown “ mostly “ except a large spot at the top that looked like the snow on the top of a very tall mountain.
“Yes, we are,” Tonks answered, obviously trying not to laugh at the man’s appearance.
“Right…” the man muttered, turning around. He placed a hand on the wall, and it swung open. “Right this way,” he added, stepping through the door. There was a general shuffling behind him as everybody entered. Right when they entered a feeling of dread suffocated around him. It was colder, much colder; Neville hugged himself to save warmth and saw Ginny shivering next to him.
They reached a sort of entrance hall. It was more of a large, empty chamber with a bench than anything. “I’m aware that Dumbledore has given you a list with the prisoners’ cell numbers?”
Lupin held out a list, and the man checked it before giving it back. “Well, most of those cells are to the left.” He pointed to a corridor. “Just take that hall down and you’ll run into all of them… except for one, who’s at the right.”
“Okay, thank you, sir,” Tonks said politely. She turned to the group. “Right, so how about we split these up? The kids can go with Remus?” Lupin nodded.
“Oh,” Lupin reached into his pocket and pulled out a few large chunks of chocolate and slapped one chunk in everybody’s hand. “Can’t forget these. Just in case.”
Neville pocketed his chocolate and pulled out his wand. “Right, so…” Lupin beckoned them forward. “Let’s go…” The corridors dripped, giving Neville a dull headache as they crept farther and farther into Azkaban.
”Who’re we questioning?” Hermione asked in a hushed voice.
“Mmm…” Lupin lit up his wand and checked the parchment. “A Death Eater called Travers. He murdered the McKinnons…” Neville fiddled with a hole in his jeans; he was probably the only one who didn’t want to be there.
Halfway down the corridor, an even greater cold swept over them. A sucking sound near by, told them what was approaching. “Stand back,” Lupin said, whipping out his wand. “Expecto Patronum!” he shouted. A blinding light lit up the corridor “ only blinding because of how everybody’s eyes had gotten accustomed to the dark “ and the dementor was driven away immediately. The silvery light died down, and Lupin turned to each of them. “Everybody alright?”
Everybody nodded slowly, except for Neville. His face was a stark white, and his hands were shaking. “C-c-can I go back to the main hall?” he stuttered.
The protective look on Lupin’s face softened into a pitying face. “Yeah, that may be a good idea,” he said softly. “Just go down the hall until you find it.”
“Right,” Neville muttered, and turned around on his heels. He waited until their footsteps died down, and began to run, puffing under his robes and two sweaters. He kept his eyes pealed open for any dementors approaching. He was almost there when “
“Where are you running, boy?” a raspy old voice asked.
Neville stopped dead in his tracks, staring desperately around for who called to him. “Who’s there?”
“Don’t be daft, boy, I’m right here.”
Neville turned slowly to the cell next to him, and made a quiet choking noise when he saw its inhabitant. An old man stared back at him, face as gaunt as a skull. His eyes were the first thing that Neville noticed. They were an empty gray, so distant that it looked as though it belonged to a corpse.
“What are you running from, boy?”
“I-I-” Neville was quite startled by all of the sudden questions. The other prisoners didn’t talk to them… what was so different with this one? “I ran into a dementor…” he finished lamely.
“Well, they won’t bother them, if they don’t bother you,” the old wizard said curtly.
Neville inched closer. “That’s not what I learned.” Again, he inched closer until his face was pressing up against the bars of the cell. “Wh-what are you in here for?” he asked curiously.
“The Ministry - those oafs - think I was involved in the Longbottom torturing,” the wizard responded, an exasperated look flickering across his face.
Neville froze; his head got very heavy, and suddenly, he felt very cold. “An-and what is your name?”
“Claude Lestrange.”
Neville simply stared, his palms grew sweaty and he let them slip off the bars.
“But I didn’t do anything,” Claude Lestrange continued. “It was my two sons, my daughter in law and that mouse of a boy, Barty Crouch Jr. But what do you care?”
“I-I-I-” Neville stuttered, “I have a friend who was close to the Longbottoms… tell me, why did you get put in Azkaban?”
“For being their father. Ridiculous isn’t it? I never even got a trial… They think, now that I’m mad, and they can’t release me… Fifteen years, I’ve been here… and all they let me keep is this.” He held out a small locket.
Timidly, Neville took it, and gazed at the picture inside. Two men, around their mid twenties, gazed back at him, carnivorous expressions on their faces. His breath caught at the back of his throat as he examined the younger looking man. “Th-this is Tiberius Proditirus!” he shouted, shoving the locket back in the man’s cell. “The one on the left! It’s Tiberius Proditirus!”
Lestrange took it and examined the man on the left, chuckling to himself. “Who the hell is Tiberius Proditirus?” He laughed even harder, apparently the answer dawning on him. “Oh, this is my youngest boy, Rabastan Lestrange… always a clever one, Rabastan was. He was a Metamorphmagus. The only time he ever took his true shape was when he was a small child… even before he went to Hogwarts. So Dumbledore never knew… Such a clever boy… He landed himself here for torturing the Longbottoms, though. Got out last year, with all of the other scum in the family. So who is this Tiberius Proditirus character he’s pretending to be?”
Neville’s jaw dropped. The whole time… he had been with the man responsible… Eyes flaring he turned around sharply and began to leave.
“Where are you going, boy?” Lestrange asked, more harshly this time. “I asked you a question.”
“What?!” Neville shouted, turning back around.
The old man’s eyes softened, as he saw the look on Neville face. Pushing that question aside, he asked softly, “What’s your name, boy?”
“M-my name is Harry,” Neville lied quickly, before turning and running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
Faster than he ever had before, Neville sprinted, just trying as hard as he could to get away from Claude Lestrange and the horrible truth he carried with him. Please don’t let it be true… he prayed. Coldness engulfed him, again, and he stopped running, panting heavily. A sucking noise drew his attention to a great hooded figure gliding towards him. Without another thought, Neville pulled out his wand, and pointed it at the dementor.
It came closer, arms reaching out towards him.
Think happy… Neville had never produced a real Patronus before… he prayed that this time it would work.
His mother, slowly drifting off to sleep squeezing his hand came into his vision.
”No one’s gonna harm you…
Not while I’m around…”
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
Nothing happened.
His grandmother holding his hand singing him to sleep…
“Nothing’s gonna hurt you,
No sir,
Not while I’m around…”
”EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
Warmth flooded through Neville’s fingertips, and into his wand. In a great burst of silver light, a great vulture flew out of his wand. “GET IT!” Neville shouted, holding his wand steady. The vulture flew towards the dementor, closer and closer, until it began to back up. Once it had turned around completely and began gliding away, Neville lowered his wand; the vulture flickered and disappeared in a matter of seconds, and he stood triumphantly his wand shaking.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!” Harry ran towards Neville, wand extended. A great stag burst out of his wand and chased into the darkness. “Did you see that?” he panted. “That dementor almost got you!”
For the second time in fifteen minutes, Neville’s jaw hit the floor. “Yeah, but it didn’t! Because I chased it away!” Harry just stared blankly. “You think you’re the only one who can get rid of a dementor, Patronus Potter?” he hissed. “But I’m strong enough! I don’t need your help all the time! I’m not nearly as helpless as you think I am!”
Harry just stood, eyebrows raised, unable to say anything.
“I’m going to wait for the others,” Neville snapped, storming off. When he finally reached the entrance hall, Ginny was already there, sitting on the bench and nibbling chocolate. Neville sat next to her silently, hands shaking.
It was only a matter of minutes before they were in the boat again, riding over the biting waves. Nobody said a word; nobody dared to ask Harry or Neville what had happened… Neville kept his stony silence, not willing to talk to anybody. Nobody deserved to know what happened… Nobody would have cared anyway…