In the days following the first sighting of Remus Lupin not far from Hogsmeade, several other alleged sightings were reported in the Daily Prophet. Many were wildly contradictory, giving descriptions which coincided only minimally with Lupin’s known appearance. Still, they were evidently quite enough to deeply perturb both Dumbledore and the Ministry. The already tight security around Hogwarts had been reinforced, and Neville and others had observed a number of grey-suited Ministry officials coming and going from the castle, apparently for meetings with the Headmaster.
Neville himself had begun to get a feeling he was being watched. Not by anybody with malicious intent, but just that Dumbledore was ensuring an eye was kept on all his doings, presumably for his own safety. The more he thought about it, the more Neville wished someone would tell him the truth about Lupin, whatever it was. Despite being someone to whom ignorance was a familiar feeling, he hated being kept in the dark.
On the Thursday following the Hogsmeade visit, Professor Black entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom his customary five minutes late. However his typical wide smile and relaxed manner were notably absent. He walked stiffly to the front of the class, and his brow was followed. “Books away, please,” he said. “Today’s lesson is going to somewhat different.”
Whilst the Gryffindors put away their textbooks, Black turned to the board and magically wrote a single word: Werewolves. He addressed the class. “In light of, um, recent events, Professor Dumbledore has asked me to bring forward your instruction on the subject of the werewolf. He thinks it best that you should all at least be aware of how to recognise one and some basic defensive steps you can take. I have to say I am not happy with this change to our schedule, but I have agreed to the Headmaster’s wishes.”
Black took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “The werewolf is almost unique amongst Dark creatures in that it lives inside a human being instead of having a form of its own. The first thing you must know about a human infected with the condition is that, other than at the full moon, they are an entirely normal person. No doubt in your lives you have heard or read many claims against those with lycanthropy, but these are no more valid than the prejudices against Muggle-borns. They are people, good or bad, and should be treated as such. Who can tell me how a person becomes a werewolf? Yes, Hermione?”
Hermione’s hand of course had been up before anyone else could react. “The only known way is to be bitten by another werewolf, sir. Even then, the werewolf must be fully transformed at the time of the new moon. If the bite is enough to draw blood, then the infection is transferred. There is no known cure, sir.”
Black smiled. “Hermione, one of these days you’re going to learn to call me Sirius,” he chided gently. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil burst into giggles. Black had become quite popular with the girls in the class, who enjoyed calling him Sirius, but Hermione had never got the hang of it. Her inbuilt deference to teachers always kicked in. “Excellent reply, though. The textbook answer. In fact,” he tapped the book on his desk and grinned, “almost exactly the textbook answer. Yes, there is no cure. The sufferer is afflicted for the rest of their life, and must live with the unwarranted guilt of whatever horrors the wolf may inflict when it takes control.”
Black went on to teach the class about how the appearance of a werewolf differed from that of a normal wolf. He also described in some graphic detail the painful process of transformation at the full moon. He explained the steps most sufferers took to ensure they did not cause harm to themselves or others each month. Neville found it all fascinating and a little disturbing. He thought of Lupin, the cause of this lesson. Black was at pains to point out that the wolf did not make the person different for the rest of the month. It had been easy for Neville to pigeon-hole Lupin as a monster. But if he had chosen to do all those terrible things for human reasons, well didn’t that make him all the worse? A Dark creature was one thing, a callous murderer an altogether more frightening prospect to Neville.
At the end of the lesson it was generally agreed that it was one of Black’s best, in spite of his misgivings about it. Whilst often in lessons before his mind had wandered, or he had let activities get wildly out of hand, here he seemed to have a genuine passion and understanding for the subject. He seemed to take it far more seriously than anything else he had taught to date. For the first time in a long while, Neville found he had genuinely enjoyed a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. He was hoping to talk to Hermione about it afterwards, but she had disappeared.
* * *
Saturday was the first Quidditch day of the season and, though the weather was terrible, Neville made his way down to the pitch to watch Harry in action. He sat huddled in the stands with Ron and Ginny; Hermione had said she wasn’t feeling well and had stayed in Gryffindor Tower. The patched and not altogether waterproof raincoat he was wearing meant he was in danger of being completely soaked through by the downpour, but Ginny let him share her umbrella.
The match, against Hufflepuff, was a long and entertaining one, despite the conditions. It was particularly noticeable for a prolonged epic tussle between Harry and the Hufflepuff Seeker, a tall boy older than Harry. Side to side, they pursued the Snitch all over the field of play and high into the cloudy sky. The score had reached 130-110 in Hufflepuff’s favour when suddenly Harry broke free of his adversary and shot forward, skirting the edge of the pitch. He dodged two attempted Bludger strikes and pounced on the Snitch, narrowly avoiding colliding with the stand in which Dumbledore and several other teachers (including Black) were sitting.
The Gryffindor half of the crowd went wild, and no one cheered louder than Ron and Ginny Weasley. Harry was carried from the field in triumph on the shoulders of Fred and George. Neville had enjoyed the game thoroughly, though he was happy to get down under the cover of the stands and out of the rain. There they waited for Harry to emerge from the changing rooms.
When he did at last, his hair was still sopping wet, but he was grinning broadly. Ron clapped him on the back and Ginny offered a “well done”. Neville was about to share his congratulations when Black came round the corner. Seeing Harry, he ran up to him and gave him a massive hug. He was beaming with pride.
“Brilliant, Harry. Brilliant. I never realised how good you were. Honestly, I can say James could never have done that and he was the best. I promise never to miss another of your matches again.”
“Thanks Sirius,” smiled Harry, obviously proud of the compliment. “Say, a few of us having a little celebration down at Hagrid’s this afternoon. Do you want to join us?”
Sirius sighed. “Sorry I can’t, Harry. I’ve got work to do.”
“Since when did you put work before having a good time?” joked Harry.
“Since I became a Hogwarts teacher,” Sirius observed. “For the first time I have responsibilities outside you, you know.”
“You want to watch that, Sirius. You’re in danger of becoming a grown-up.” Sirius laughed, ruffled Harry’s damp hair, and left in the direction of the castle. Not for the first time, Neville felt envious of Harry’s relationship with his guardian. Harry turned to Ron, Ginny and him. “You guys will come, right? Hagrid’s making rock cakes but I promise there will be edible food too.”
“Me too?” asked Neville, surprised.
“Sure, why wouldn’t I invite you?” answered Harry. Neville couldn’t think of an answer to that, he was just used to never being invited to anything.
Later, in Hagrid’s hut, it proved a tight squeeze to get everyone in. Apart from Hagrid, Harry, Neville, Ron and Ginny, Fred and George were also there, and one of the Chasers from the team (Neville didn’t catch her name). Hagrid, taking up the bulk of the space of course, was delighted to see Neville, and Neville released he hadn’t spoken to the genial half-giant in a long time. Hagrid chided Neville for not taking his Care of Magical Creatures class and Neville asked him how he was finding being a teacher.
“Well enough, ’cept for this Buckbeak business,” Hagrid replied. Harry explained that Lucius Malfoy had apparently got irate over Draco’s injury by the hippogriff and had demanded an inquiry. Neville, who knew better than most what sort of a man Lucius Malfoy was, consoled Hagrid.
“They can’t sack you,” Harry assured Hagrid. “Dumbledore would never allow it.”
Hagrid nodded. “Aye, Dumbledore’s always been good to me.”
Everyone sat and ate and talked for what seemed like hours. Eventually only Neville, Ron and Harry were left with Hagrid, the rest had had to return to the castle. Inevitably the topic of conversation drifted onto Remus Lupin, about whom Hagrid was noticeably silent, muttering only that those were “dark times.” When they turned to the subject of the Dementors however, he was more strongly forthcoming. Neville had forgotten Hagrid had been temporarily imprisoned in Azkaban not a few months before.
“As evil as they come, Dementors,” Hagrid stated flatly, a dark look in his eye. “They make the world a cold and dark place and all you want to do is crawl into a hole and never come out again. And in the dark, you hear things,” he stumbled, as if struggling to find the words to describe the sensation. “Terrible things.” He paused for a moment and there was a pained expression on his face. “It takes a strong person to stomach it. Most don’t.”
He sat blankly staring out of the window and everyone sat in silence for a moment. Suddenly his eyes snapped back into focus. “Blimey,” he exclaimed, “it’s dark outside already. I’ve kept you here far too long. Especially you, Neville. You’d best all be hurrying back to the castle at once.”
They all grabbed their coats and, saying quick goodbyes to Hagrid, rushed outside. The rain had finally relented and the last rays of sunlight were just fading behind the hills to the west. Hands thrust deep in their pockets to keep out the cold, they made their way back up towards Hogwarts.
The way before them seemed well lit and Ron looked up, puzzled. He grabbed Harry’s arm and pointed. Neville’s eyes turned skywards. The moon shone brightly high in the night sky. To his shock and horror, it was full.
“Come on,” said Harry. “Let’s not hang around. Just in case, you know.” They broke into a gentle run, but even so Neville struggled to keep up. They passed close by the Whomping Willow, the great tree planted in the grounds that attacked anyone who came near. Suddenly Neville froze. Harry and Ron hadn’t noticed he’d stopped and ran on a little further.
Neville was staring at the base of the willow. There, lurking in the shadows cast by the full moon, a large creature padded around the tree’s foot. Little could be made out of it in the dim light, but Neville was sure it was the same animal he had seen from the kitchen window in Huddlesby. The wolf had indeed come to Hogwarts.
The creature’s eyes were focussed on Neville, but it had not moved, perhaps hoping it had not been seen. Terrified, Neville hesitated, not knowing whether to run or stay still. Harry and Ron stopped, seeing Neville was not with him. “What is it, Neville?” Harry called back, but Neville did not reply. He stayed staring back at the beast, as if trying to fathom something out, though he knew not what.
Suddenly Ron gave a cry and pointed. “Neville, look!” Neville’s eye’s snapped away to the direction Ron indicated. Gliding past Hagrid’s hut, crossing the grounds at frightening speed, came three Dementors. They were bearing straight down on the Whomping Willow and where Neville stood. Perhaps they sensed their prey close by, Neville didn’t know.
He looked back at the willow, but there was no longer anything there. Released at last, he began to run, towards where Harry and Ron stood. Scrambling forward, he stumbled and fell to the ground. Rolling onto his back, he looked up. A Dementor loomed over him. He half fancied he heard a wolf howl in the distance, just like his dream back at the Leaky Cauldron before term. Then the world faded from in front of his eyes.
And out of the darkness, the voices came. The woman’s, trembling but strong: Never, never! I would die before I let you touch him! And the man’s, cold and hard: Very well. And then there was green, and then there was black.
* * *
Consciousness returned slowly and reluctantly to Neville. Dimly, he could feel that he was lying on a soft bed. His eyes still saw nothing but black, but from far away he could make out faint sounds. He strained to listen, and gradually they formed themselves into voices. An argument seemed to be in progress, its participants unaware they were being overheard.
“And how is it that Longbottom came to be alone outside on a full-moon night?” asked a dry, sneering voice. Snape, Neville thought, through the cloud that was still enveloping his brain. What’s he doing here? Where am I? “I thought you were supposed to be watching him today, Black. But then, you never really did give much thought to other people’s safety, did you?” Snape’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Neville heard Black bristle in reply. “May I remind you, Snape, that my godson was out there too. I had thought they were safe at Hagrid’s and I was working.” Snape snorted, evidently doubting Black ever worked. “What I want to know,” continued Black, ignoring Snape, “is what the Dementors were doing on the grounds. I thought they had been ordered not to leave the perimeter.”
“I do not know,” answered the soft voice of Dumbledore. “I am making forceful enquiries. I do not like it any more than you do, Sirius. My guess is they felt something, but that thought only worries me more. I guess we will have to wait for young Neville to wake for any further answers, if he indeed knows any more than Mr Potter or Mr Weasley.”
“But why would they attack Longbottom? What cause would they have?” asked Snape.
“It may be nothing more than he was the closest person,” said Dumbledore. “After all, Harry and Ronald were chased as well. But something tells me there is more too it than that. Dementors are drawn to strong, deep-seated emotion. Of all people that it should be Neville…” His voice trailed off for a moment. “In any case, it was a good thing you were close by, Severus.”
“Yes, good for some,” replied Snape. “Perhaps it would have been just reward for Black’s laxity if I had brought Potter back soulless.”
“Now see here, Snape,” snapped Black. “I know you and I have our differences, but I will not have you taking them out on Harry. I know how you treat him. What is he ever done to you?”
“He is as reckless and irresponsible as his father and godfather, and just as dangerous. Perhaps you would like him to end up as an attempted murderer too?”
“Oh, grow up, Snivellus,” growled Black.
“Peace, gentlemen,” interjected Dumbledore’s calm voice. Neville, whose senses had now returned to him, carefully half opened an eye. He saw he was in the hospital wing. Dumbledore, Black and Snape were standing in the doorway several feet away from them. Black and Snape were eyeballing each other fiercely and Dumbledore was standing between them, his palms raised in an attempt to cool the situation. The right hands of both adversaries were poised over their wands.
The staring match continued for some time, before eventually Snape relented and broke eye contact. “I trust I have made my point, Headmaster,” he said to Dumbledore, and stalked out. Dumbledore gave Sirius a long, careful look over the top of his spectacles, before nodding gently to him and leaving himself. Sirius settled himself into a chair by the door, drumming his fingers on his thigh in frustration and pent-up anger.
Neville decided it was probably best not to alert him to the fact he had overheard the conversation and lay still for a few more minutes with his eyes closed once more. He thought about all he had heard, especially Snape’s jibe of “attempted murderer”. What did he mean by that?
Eventually he pretended to wake and made a show of stretching his arms and rubbing his eyes. Black got up and walked over to him. “Welcome back, Neville,” he said kindly.
“Professor? What-what happened?” asked Neville, feigning ignorance. “There were Dementors, and I ran, but I tripped and fell…”
“Relax, Neville, you’re safe. From what we can gather, three Dementors entered the grounds and attacked you, Harry and Ron. You passed out, as did Harry, briefly. Fortunately Ron’s cries brought help and the Dementors were driven off.” Neville noted that Black did not mention from whom the help had come. “Harry and Ron are both fine, as are you I hope. You have had quite a bad turn. Dementors affect you most powerfully it seems. You and Harry, but you most of all.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yes, yes, he’s been up and about for a while. He bounces back quickly, does Harry. I’ve had a talk with him, then they left me to wait for you to wake up. How are you feeling?”
“Really tired, and my head aches like crazy. It… it feels like falling into a hole, only there’s no bottom and you keep falling. Why me? Why do they affect me like that?”
“Dementors feed on the emotions and memories of their victims, Neville. They strip away all love and joy and leave the sufferer with only their worst feelings and experiences.” Black took a deep breath and leaned closer to Neville. “Tell me Neville, and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to because it may be very personal, but when the Dementors are near, do you hear or experience anything, as if from a memory?”
Neville nodded slowly. “I hear voices. I think it’s my mum and… and You-Know-Who. He kills her. But I was only a baby at the time. How can I remember?”
“Memory is a strange thing, Neville,” replied Black. “The trauma of your past has affected you more strongly than you even realise, and it is into that the Dementors have tapped.”
“So is that why Harry is affected? Is it his parents too?”
Black looked grave, painful memories stirring behind his eyes. “That is personal to Harry too, Neville. But I think you understand the idea. Harry is naturally worried about the whole thing. I’ve agreed to teach him how to defend himself against Dementors.”
“Is that possible?”
“Yes, although it is extremely difficult and advanced magic for someone of your age. Would you like me to teach you as well?”
“It would hardly be worth it. I wouldn’t have any chance of learning anything. I never do,” moaned Neville.
“Come on, where’s your spirit, Neville?” said Black encouragingly. “At least try, that’s always been my motto. If you don’t try things, how do you know if you’re good at them? Harry jumped at the chance.”
“I’m not Harry,” Neville pointed out. He thought for a few seconds. “All right, I’ll try,” he said at last.
“Good,” said Black, smiling. “We shouldn’t start straight away; you need some time to get over this first. I was going to start with Harry over Christmas, so how about in the New Year, okay? You won’t regret it.” He patted Neville on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to get some rest. See you in class on Monday, Neville.” With that he got up and left the room, whistling quietly to himself, and Neville was left to reflect that there was lot more to Sirius Black than first met the eye.
Neville Longbottom and the Prisoner of Azkaban by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which Neville learns about werewolves and is attacked near the Whomping Willow.