7th January 1998
Hello, my name is Neville Longbottom.
Hello?
Are you an enchanted diary?
I’m going to assume you are a normal, non-magical diary, then. I guess the Room must know that I’m here alone, and that I would want someone to talk to, even if it’s only myself. Luna Lovegood is gone; she didn’t return after Christmas, and Ginny Weasley will no doubt follow shortly, and then it’ll be my turn.
I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I don’t think that any of the professors really know about this Room, or what it’s been used for the last two years. I hope not, anyway. As for my fellow students, the ones in the DA know it, but I don’t think they know how to get in here. So I may be safe. Unfortunately, there isn’t anywhere else in the castle I can go, and I can’t see any way to escape.
Even if I could, where would I go? I don’t imagine that Gran’s house is safe anymore, even if I could somehow get there. There isn’t anyplace else I can think of that seems like a reasonable possibility. And I don’t fancy my chances in the Muggle world.
Well, I’m going to see what else is here. That might give me an idea what to do next.
***
8th January 1998
If my watch is correct, I’ve slept for sixteen hours. I don’t think I’ve ever slept that long in one go in my life.
I’ve also never before been hiding out from “Professors” who regularly use the Cruciatus Curse on us in class, or order us to use it on our classmates. I suppose I needed the rest though.
I’ve completed my inventory of the Room. It seems to have changed itself while I slept. It’s quite a bit larger now than it was yesterday. This is what I’ve found:
One bed, extra-firm mattress, and blankets
One large Gryffindor banner (hanging on the south wall)
One hearth, with what appears to be at least a month’s supply of wood (this appeared overnight)
One bookshelf
Sixteen books on fighting the Dark Arts (in alphabetical order by author on said bookshelf)
One cupboard
Twelve loaves of bread and two jars of gooseberry jam, apparently removed from the kitchens (in said cupboard)
Thirty six bottles of pumpkin juice, also apparently removed from the kitchens (in said cupboard)
Twelve bottles of butterbeer, again, removed from the kitchens (also in said cupboard)
Twenty gallons of water
One Wireless set
One Wizard Chess set (this seems somewhat wrongheaded on the Room’s part since there is no one to play against)
One WC (including a loo, a sink, a shower and a full set of clean towels)
One diary (currently being written in)
One House-elf (spotted momentarily, nearly caught in the act of leaving the above mentioned food)
It looks like the Room expects me to stay for a while. I’m glad it is welcoming me. It must not like Snape and the Carrows any more than I do.
I wonder if that’s true. They say that houses and other buildings have personalities, after all. Gran used to talk about the old Van Eckel house just down the way from her house. She said that after Mr. Van Eckel died and his relatives sold it, the house refused to let anyone else live there. She said it drove out at least a dozen families. She specifically said it wasn’t a ghost, but the house itself.
I wonder. Hogwarts Castle is very old. It was built with magic, and it’s been home to very powerful witches and wizards for hundreds and hundreds of years. It could be alive, in a way. And why shouldn’t it hate the Death Eaters who are running it now? They spit on everything that the founders stood for (well, three of the four founders, I guess). They’re torturing students, for no reason, but their own sick amusement. And the other teachers can’t openly oppose them for fear of being sacked (or worse). I know they’re doing the best they can, and I understand that it’s better to keep their positions where they can at least try to prevent as much harm as possible. But…
My parents were tortured into madness. I’ve been tortured, and so have all my friends. And many people out in the world have died. It sounds a little hollow to me that Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, and the other decent ones aren’t doing more…
I had to distract myself. I didn’t like where my thoughts were heading. I’m alone in here, and I don’t want to be thinking angry thoughts, especially since I have no outlet for them. I’ll read for a while and have lunch (is it lunchtime? My watch seems to have stopped working, and I have no idea what time it is). Maybe I’ll try to play chess against myself. I might have a chance of winning that way!
I’ve heard it’s good to joke when you’re in a stressful situation. It’s supposed to help relieve the tension. I wonder if that’s true.
***
9th January 1998
It’s now been two full days since I’ve spoken to anyone. I think that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing another human being…
Someone was here while I slept.
There is blood. A trail of blood from the door, leading to a bed that was not here when I went to sleep last night.
The bed’s been slept in. There’s blood on the sheets as well. There are a few hairs on the pillow. They’re dark, and very long.
There’s a book under the bed. It’s one of those “Merlin’s Notes” study guides. It’s for Transfiguration. Gran disapproves of them. “You are going to school to learn properly, not to cheat your way through with these wretched little shortcut books,” she told me once in Flourish & Blotts. There’s no name, but there’s a “PP” in flowery script on the inside cover. So it must be one of the Patil twins. And there’s a small bottle of essence of dittany, though it’s empty.
I can guess what happened. Parvati, or Padma, ran into someone in the hallways “ probably a fourth or fifth year Slytherin who had a go at her (any younger and they probably wouldn’t have been able to hurt her at all; any older and they’d have hurt her badly enough to send her to the Hospital Wing). It must have happened close enough to the Room that she had to pass by to get back to Gryffindor Tower, and it had to be the kind of injury that made it hard for her to walk. Maybe they used Sectemsempra on her, probably on her leg, cut her badly. So she was walking past the Room, and thought that she needed someplace to rest, someplace safe, somewhere she could heal herself before the bleeding got worse. I guess the Room really is looking out for us.
She probably didn’t even notice that I was asleep just a few feet away. I assume she would have woken me up if she had. She must have been in such pain, and also faint from blood loss, that she didn’t notice anything except the bed and the dittany. And when she woke up, if she did see me, all she probably saw was a body under the covers, so she didn’t know who it was, and she probably didn’t dare come close enough to check.
I guess if I ever do see Parvati, or Padma, and she’s got a nasty scar down her leg, I’ll know I was right.
***
10th January 1998
I have company. She’s a Gryffindor, and a second year. Her name is Ariel Stewart. I’ve seen her in the Common Room and at meals, but I don’t think I’ve spoken more than a dozen words to her all year. Until today, obviously.
She was put under the Cruciatus Curse for, she said, ten full minutes. She was in Dark Arts (there’s no point in calling it Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore), and she made the mistake of saying that all Muggles aren’t necessarily worthless and deserving of slavery, death or worse. She then made it worse on herself by saying (under very harsh questioning, I’m sure) that her great-grandfather was a Muggle, and a very brave and good man, and she was proud of him.
It took three hours to get that much from her. She arrived shortly after I woke up. The door opened, and she just fell inside. The door closed behind her. I picked her up and got her into the bed Parvati had used (the Room must have been expecting more visitors, or I guess it would have taken her bed away). I brought her some water, and I tried to talk to her.
She was wailing. I understand. I’ve never had Cruciatus use on me for longer than thirty seconds. Ten minutes must feel like an eternity.
I was angrier than I think I’ve ever been. Even when I saw Bellatrix Lestrange in the Ministry two years ago, I didn’t feel like this. I wanted to murder the Carrows “ and Snape! “ with my bare hands. But I had to try to put it out of my mind. Ariel didn’t need anger. She needed tranquility. I wetted a towel and wiped her face, and I started telling her stories about my Gran. It was the first subject that came to mind. I was hoping to get a smile, or a laugh, or any other response from her. It took a long time, but she finally recovered enough to tell me what had happened.
When she was done, I told her what I was doing here. I explained how I’ve been in the room for several days, and that I figured Snape was about ready to just kill me if he caught me, so I was going to keep hiding here for now.
She wants to stay as well. She thinks that she marked herself by talking about her Muggle great-grandfather. I think she’s right. There is certainly plenty of room here, and enough food. I wouldn’t want to go back again either, in her place.
Besides, if the Room let her in, it must want her to stay, if she chooses to. Who am I to say no?
And I could use the company. Maybe she knows how to play Wizard Chess?
***
11th January 1998
It is time to leave. We can’t stay here indefinitely. My absence is causing questions to be asked. The House-elf I almost caught a few days ago appeared again. He is Dobby, the elf who befriended Harry Potter. He gave us the news: several of my House-mates have been “punished” for “refusing” to reveal my whereabouts. I don’t believe any of my friends “ or any Gryffindor at all - would give up one of their own, but it’s impossible to tell what you don’t know. Friends of mine are being tortured because they don’t know where I am.
I can’t let that continue. I’ll have to leave. Ariel will have to leave as well; I assume there will be similar questions and similar “punishment” directed at her friends, and she feels the same as I do. It’s going to take an hour or two for both of us to work up the nerve to actually leave, and to come up with excuses that Snape and the Carrows will believe. Or, at least, accept.
So I guess that’s it; I don’t think I’ll be writing in this again, I can’t risk anyone getting hold of it.
***
9th May 1998
I cannot believe that I left this in the Room! In my nervousness when I left back in January, I forgot this diary, and after a few hours of “questioning” by the Carrows, I was not thinking straight, and the diary went out of my mind.
I suppose I can still use that Remberall that Gran sent me back in first year.
She is why I’m back herein the Room. The Death Eaters tried to kidnap her “ which was a big mistake. They thought she was a harmless old woman; they should have asked me about that! It’s actually funny. One of the men they sent, who was an Auror, is in St. Mungo’s, and Gran is nowhere to be found.
And now, neither am I. I was looking at what I wrote in January, and this time I really don’t think I’ll be leaving. Where would I go?
A/N: Special thanks to XhayleeXblackX for her help and bluemoon13 for their beta services
Deathly Hallows, Revisited by Slytherins
Chapter Notes: This chapter was written by starkllr.