Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.
Chapter 63
Neville’s Invaluable Testimony
By contrast, the haggard looking Neville who peeked into his room the next morning gave Harry instant cause for worry. He threw his half-knotted tie onto his bed and turned his full attention to Neville’s slouching form.
“What’s the matter? Should I call Professor Lupin?” Harry asked as he eased Neville into the nearest armchair.
He nodded, straining to get the words out. “I’m feeling so strange all of a sudden. Like bits of the past and present are jockeying for possession of my brain.”
This was not one of the side effects that had been mentioned, something which made Harry debate whether he should delay contacting Madam Pomfrey. He would hate for Lupin to be reprimanded for trying to bring a little sunshine into Neville’s life. He sprinted for the Marauder’s Map and located the professor hurrying down the first floor corridor. There was still time to intercept him before his first class of began twenty minutes from now.
“Ron!” Harry cried as he dashed into the adjoining bedchamber. “I need you to retrieve Professor Lupin for me. Neville needs his assistance and I don’t dare leave him alone!”
Ron, too, was at pains to subdue his tie that morning and gave it up as hopeless before Harry’s urgent pleas. “Just show me where he is on the Map!” Ron urged as he shrugged into his school robes.
Harry returned to the common room to find that Hermione was convincing Neville to recline on the sofa before the unlit hearth. “Save your words for the professor, Neville,” she soothed him. “He will know how to make things better.”
Allowing Harry to take over, Hermione retreated momentarily to make herself more presentable. She confessed that she did not relish facing Lupin in her dressing gown, regardless of the early hour.
Lupin arrived in a whirlwind of school robes, tossing his briefcase into the nearest chair and not bothering to see if it landed safely. He kneeled beside Neville and felt his forehead anxiously.
Neville’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled weakly when he recognized Lupin’s face. “Harry said you’d come,” he mumbled.
“Of course, Neville,” Lupin replied with a warm, reassuring smile. He turned and caught Hermione’s eye just as she emerged from her bedchamber. “I sent Ron to my classroom in case I was detained. Would you help him out, Hermione? Start the lesson if you need to. We were studying…oh, just wing it! I trust you.”
Hermione nodded as she grabbed her school robes from the wardrobe and dived out the stone sconce without bothering to put them on.
Refocusing on Neville, Lupin asked softly, “Tell we what’s wrong. You have Harry all worried about you.”
Neville gulped noticeably and searched the room for Harry’s face on the other side of the sofa before settling his feverish eyes on Lupin. “I have so many memories crowding in all at once inside my head. They’re colliding in such a jarring manner that I cringe expecting a noise or a jolt of pain that doesn’t come. What’s happening to me?”
“Never fear, Neville. I’m here to help you figure it out,” Lupin attested as he settled himself on the footstool Harry provided. “Can you put the memories into any sort of chronology, determine which came first?”
Neville shook his head in frustration.
“How about which memory is strongest? You said that they were muscling each other about in your head; try to find the memory that is most like a bully to the others. Take a moment to shift through your thoughts while I call for the Headmistress. Can you do that for me?”
Lupin barely had time to catch Neville’s small nod before he twisted his body around and threw a pinch of Floo powder into the embers. Within moments, he was smoothing his jacket as he sank back down on the footstool to wait. Almost immediately, McGonagall materialized from teal colored smoke and straightened herself before the mantle.
“What seems to be the matter, Remus?” she asked as Neville obligingly moved his long legs out of her way so she could perch on the end of the sofa.
“Neville was just about to try to tell me, Headmistress,” Lupin explained as he turned his face expectantly in Neville’s direction.
“I think the strongest memory…the one that keeps recurring most often… is that of Bellatrix Lestrange in my living room. My Gran keeps grabbing her by the arm as if to detain her and Bellatrix just shoves her off as if she were a meddlesome insect. Gran goes careening across the room, I hold my breath in apprehension, and then she collides with this small mousy man that helps her regain her balance. But there’s something in his face that makes me think he’s evil, too.”
“Harry, do you have that old picture of the Order that Sirius gave you?” Lupin demanded tersely.
“I’ll go get it,” Harry replied. He quickly retrieved it from under his discarded jumpers, realizing he’d forgotten to add it to his new album.
Lupin scanned the old, yellowed faces before him and then pointed one out to Neville. “Could this be the man in your memory?”
“Yes.” Neville sighed with relief. “So it was one of the good guys after all.”
“Not exactly,” Lupin cautioned. “You just identified Peter Pettigrew.”
“The one who betrayed Harry’s parents?” Neville gasped.
“I’m afraid so,” McGonagall added with a reassuring pat on Neville’s thigh.
“What would Pettigrew be doing in my home?” Neville bemoaned.
“Do you recognize whether it was your Gran’s house or your parents’?”
“They’re both the same, Professor. Gran has always lived with us; she and I continued in the house alone after my parents were sent to St. Mungo’s.”
“Is there any more to the memory?” McGonagall prodded gently.
Neville screwed up his eyes with effort as he tried to oblige her. “The more I try to grasp it, the more it slips away.”
“Leave it alone for now then,” Lupin suggested. “What other memories are competing with this one?”
“All sorts,” Neville admitted. “But one that keeps returning pretty regularly involves a comical little man in a green hat, made him look like a grasshopper going to work in a bank, my Gran used to always say, what with all his pinstriped suits. I can’t see his face in my memory, sorry.”
“What about his voice?” Lupin prompted. “Do you remember hearing it?”
“Yes, it sounds so familiar, yet I can’t place it. I can hear him telling my grandmother not to worry that such things were just routine…”
“Neville, can you make the same man’s voice say the words: ‘Voldemort is not back’?” Harry proposed as a sudden idea struck him.
“Let me try.” Neville nodded eagerly. Suddenly his eyes grew wide with comprehension. “It’s Fudge, the man who used to be the Minister of Magic before he mucked things up!…What would the Minister of Magic be doing at my house?”
“He wouldn’t have been the Minister at the time,” the Headmistress clarified. “I seem to recall he worked in the Department of Magical Catastrophes.”
“Strangely ironic, isn’t it?” Lupin whispered to Harry. Then for Neville’s benefit, he added, “What else do you remember? Anything could be significant.”
“Fudge was shepherding a small group of people all dressed exactly alike in the most outlandish gear,” Neville supplied.
Apparently this struck a chord with the Headmistress and she rose to her feet instinctively and moved closer to Neville’s face. “Think carefully,” she intoned with an almost seductive quality to her voice. “What color robes were these people wearing? It’s very important.”
Neville closed his eyes obediently to try to better visualize the scene, then broke out in a big grin as he announced, “Purple!”
“Thank you so much, Neville!” McGonagall praised him. “Give me a wee moment to compare notes with Professor Lupin, won’t you?”
She motioned Lupin out of Neville’s hearing, then nodded to Harry that he could join them. As an added precaution, she cast some sort of quick charm with her wand to keep their conversation private. “We’re looking at a case of Obliviation, I’m afraid,” she intoned soberly. “Fudge was in charge of determining when the Obliviation Squad was necessary and that group all wore--”
“”purple uniforms, coveralls actually,” Lupin supplied. “I remember reading how Fudge had gotten a big promotion after he’d been the first on hand to deal with the Black crisis.”
“You mean, the situation that he got totally wrong because it was actually Pettigrew who orchestrated everything?” cried Harry. The man’s long line of ineptitude was enough to make anyone’s blood boil.
“Cornelius was always so consistent,” McGonagall observed ruefully.
“What should we do about Neville, Headmistress? I had no idea…” Lupin offered.
“I know you didn’t, Remus,” she replied as she laid a comforting hand on his arm. “No one will blame you “ I will see to that personally. In the meanwhile, I will call for Madam Pomfrey.”
Lupin nodded solemnly, then added with authority, “It’s likely that Neville has information that should be guarded by the Order. I’m counting on both of you to keep track of everything he says; commit nothing to paper.” For those few moments that it took the Headmistress to acknowledge the assignment, it was clear that Lupin was the one who headed the Order.
“I should sedate him then,” McGonagall suggested.
“Of course,” Lupin agreed as he dug out the tiny, stoppered bottle from his jacket pocket. “I assume you’re familiar with the dosage.”
“Remus, I once used this very same elixir to coax down the fevers of my own children,” she noted reprovingly. “It wasn’t always a restricted substance, you know.”
“Since this particular bottle is entrusted by miles of paperwork to me, would you mind humoring me, Minerva?” Lupin requested with a gentle smile. “That way Harry will also have the instructions.”
“One drop in half a glass of water or other non-alcoholic, non-fruit beverage. It will turn a bright emerald green, glass will become icy cold to the touch,” the Headmistress recited from memory. “Do I get a gold star?”
“Thank you for indulging me, Headmistress,” Lupin replied in his most formal tones. “I must get down to my class. I trust you’ll keep me informed of Neville’s condition.”
Lupin grabbed his briefcase and made as if to leave through the sconce, only to be arrested by McGonagall’s next words. “If you race down those stairs, Remus, so help me, I’ll make you sit detention. That was already done once this week -- in high heels, mind you!” She looked directly at Harry for a moment. “I shudder to think how dangerous marble steps are under those circumstances….Take the Floo to your office on the first floor and walk from there. Please, don’t make me have to waste my breath with a needless argument.”
“Excellent suggestion, Minerva.” Lupin waited for her to throw a handful of powder into the hearth before stepping through the teal sparkles.
“Harry, dear, why don’t you help Neville to his room while I call for Madam Pomfrey?” the Headmistress suggested. “You know what a stickler she can be for protocol,” she added smiling directly at Neville. “If you’re already tucked into your own bed, she’ll be much less likely to want to haul you all the way to the Hospital Wing.”
To Harry’s astonishment, Madam Pomfrey was of the opinion that Lupin had actually done Neville a favor by helping the lad to retrieve his lost memories.
“Mind you, I no longer consider Obliviation a viable treatment for childhood trauma,” Pomfrey admitted. “But there was a time when developmental specialists recommended it in many situations. Being of an older generation, Neville’s grandmother wouldn’t have had the immediate objections to Obliviation that the rest of us do.”
“I’m sure Remus will be relieved that you don’t hold him responsible,” the Headmistress replied graciously.
“Oh, but I do, Minerva,” Pomfrey returned silkily. “But he has done Neville a world of good, just you wait and see. That child was plagued with the worst case of self-doubt and absent-mindedness I have ever seen “ likely residual effects from those who adjusted his brain.”
“Madam Pomfrey, I know it’s probably none of my business,” Harry began hesitantly, “but how can anyone think that tampering with another’s mind is a good thing? Look at poor Professor Lockhart…”
“I know, dear, but it was once theorized that some memories were so horrific, especially for very small children, that they would impede their normal development into healthy adolescents. Turns out that our minds are equipped with the capacity to forget memories that are too traumatic. In other cases, children simply work through those painful memories as a part of growing up and are the stronger for it. If you won’t think me too intrusive, Harry, do you have any memories of the night that… of that night?” Pomfrey inquired gingerly.
“You mean the night that Voldemort left me with a souvenir scar?” Harry returned nonchalantly.
“As you can see, Poppy, Harry has managed to work through his demons,” the Headmistress remarked. “Although, somewhere along the way, he’s managed to channel a bit of Remus’ insouciance.”
“I can see that,” Pomfrey returned sardonically. “You still didn’t really answer my question, Harry.”
“I didn’t have any memory of it at all until I encountered the dementors the Ministry sent to Hogwarts that one year--”
“The ones that were sent presumably to protect us,” Pomfrey interjected. “Albus was so convinced they wanted nothing better than to feed on our students!”
Harry nodded to acknowledge the truth of her sentiments then continued, “Every time a dementor approached me, I would relive the worse memories of Voldemort attacking my parents. Memories that I never knew I had before then. It was terrifying; actually made me faint numerous times. Professor Lupin taught me to produce a Patronus, kept me at it “ even though there were many who thought I was too young to learn “ until I mastered it. Those memories no longer plague me because I no longer feel helpless before them.”
“Then you have walked through the darkness and come out the other side, as they say,” Pomfrey asserted with conviction. “You, more than anyone, can provide Neville with some support when he begins his own journey.”
A bit simplistic, Harry noted to himself. Dare he mention that witnessing traumatic death had become his stock in trade at Hogwarts? Not to mention watching helplessly as his favorite teacher transformed into a werewolf before his very eyes. Yes, he’d come to terms with his own reality, but he could hardly recommend that journey to anyone else.
Instead, he replied with a smile, “I’ll do my best.”
Trying to make the most of a short break before his afternoon classes, Lupin arrived out of breath from taking the stairs two at a time.
“We have a change of plan today, Remus,” the Headmistress announced before Lupin even had a chance to shrug out of his robes. “I trust your lesson plan is on your desk.”
“I generally lock it in one of the desk drawers when I leave the room,” Lupin admitted. “Sirius once had this scheme… Well, let’s just say it involved a lesson plan.”
“May I borrow your key for the afternoon, then?” she asked with mock innocence. At Lupin’s thunderstruck expression, she added with a smile, “I need to retrieve your notes if I’m to take over the rest of your lessons today.”
“You need to hear what Neville has to say, Professor,” Harry urged.
“Spend your afternoon hours with Harry and Neville,” the Headmistress recommended. “Neville’s only shared a tiny bit with us. He insisted on waiting for you.”
“But my classes?” Lupin gaped. “What will you tell them?”
“That your project with Neville ran overlong.” She shrugged to indicate it was the most obvious solution. “Listen to Neville; we may not have much time left. I’m not trying to be cryptic, but I just don’t want to color his words with my own perceptions. You’ll know what steps you need to take.”
With a quick turn of her wand, McGonagall added Lupin’s small key to the charm bracelet she wore on her wrist and exited through the sconce.
“She’d better not run,” Lupin whispered with a smirk. “Tell me, Harry, what’s got the Headmistress so worked up that she’s willing to take over my classes?”
“Neville hasn’t really given us many more details than before you left, Remus. It’s just that the memories that seem to trouble him most are centered around Bellatrix and Wormtail.” Harry lowered his voice to a bare whisper before adding, “The Headmistress told me that those are the two that have been poking around Godric’s Hollow. That’s the official word from the Order.”
“Yes, it is,” Lupin replied after a moment’s hesitation. “If what she suspects is true, then you and Neville may have to be inducted before the day is over. Will that be acceptable to you?”
“Shouldn’t you ask Neville, as well?” Harry countered. “Unless you’re planning to Obliviate him again after he serves your purpose.”
“That’s not really very funny, you know,” Lupin warned. “We’re hardly a bunch of Death Eaters… How about we order up some lunch and get to work then?”
“The Headmistress already took care of that.” Harry grinned. “There’s a whole buffet on Neville’s dresser. He woke up with a ravenous appetite once the sedative wore off.”
“Pomfrey’s already given her go ahead?” Lupin asked cautiously.
“She was a lot more reasonable than you led me to expect,” Harry returned.
“She always is when she’s not dealing with me directly,” Lupin muttered under his breath.
“So, Neville, is there anything else I can get you?” Lupin inquired graciously as he helped himself to a second serving of roast chicken. “Some dessert perhaps?”
“No thanks, Professor. Really, I’m stuffed! It’s Luna who seems to have a separate stomach devoted exclusively to pudding,” Neville replied with a smile. “Do you think I can climb out of bed now? I’m beginning to feel like an idiot.”
“We’ll wait for you in the common room then,” Lupin suggested, grabbing a basket of rolls on his way out the door.
Neville settled himself on the sofa with a cold Butterbeer and kicked off his loafers once again. “I’m not sure where to begin,” he stated candidly. “All my memories are still jumbled together and it’s often hard to pinpoint the beginning.”
“Just jump in wherever then,” Lupin suggested with a smile of encouragement. “The Headmistress thought that the portions about Bella and Wormtail might turn out to be the most significant.”
“Wormtail?” Neville was perplexed.
“Forgive me, Neville,” Lupin explained. “Perhaps it will help you to get into the spirit of things to know that Peter Pettigrew had a nickname while he was at school. The friends he betrayed called him ‘Wormtail’.”
“In reference to his Animagus form?” Neville giggled. “How fitting in other ways as well. Forgive me for thinking it’s a bit funny, Professor.”
“Quite all right.” Lupin shrugged. “It’s a bit ironic, to be sure. But don’t apologize about laughing, Neville. Not to me, anyway. Laughter often helps to keep our fears in perspective… Surely, you haven’t forgotten the lesson about banishing boggarts, have you?” he added with a twinkle in his eye.
Neville laughed openly. “How could I? You turned me into a bit of a legend with that!”
“And I’ve been trying to live that moment down ever since!” Lupin shook his head in chagrin. Neville laughed even harder as Harry could no longer keep from joining in.
Having been put at ease, Neville had no trouble slipping into his narrative of how Pettigrew and Bellatrix had shown up at his door only have his grandmother insist that his parents were not at home.
“But they didn’t believe her,” Neville elaborated. “They barged their way in and demanded to search the house for themselves. It was at this point that Bellatrix shoved my Gran across the room. I could see Bella’s eyes shining with a strange light when she caught sight of me playing with some wooden blocks in the center of the rug. Gran went a little crazy and suggested that she keep her ruddy paws off the child “ me. Actually, she was bit more venomous than that, but I don’t feel I should repeat those exact words. They weren’t very ladylike,” Neville added in a whisper.
“We’ll just gloss over that part.” Lupin chuckled. “I’ve always suspected your grandmother was a bit feisty.”
“That’s an understatement,” Neville observed wryly. “So Wormtail took Bella by the arm and suggested in a rather obsequious manner that the Dark Lord’s instructions had been very specific, she was not to touch the child. ‘For now, anyway,’ Bella sneered and it was as if the temperature dropped ten degrees in that room. ‘I will curry favor with the Dark Lord in my own manner, thank you,’ she added disdainfully.
“Then Wormtail replied, ‘Of course, Mistress, I forgot you were locked in a beauty contest with the Handmaiden.’ Bellatrix turned on him with a fury that I found most comforting as she was now no longer staring at me. Seeing that he’d hit a nerve, Wormtail went in for more. ‘Everyone knows the Handmaiden is his current favorite. You can hear it in his voice every time he says her name.’
“ ‘Her code name, you mean,’ Bella corrected him, then added in an oily tone, ‘Besides, what makes you think the Handmaiden is someone else? For all you know, it could be the Dark Lord’s way of referring to me.’
“Wormtail laughed outright “ imagine the sound of snakes slithering across gravel, that’s the best way I can describe it. It seemed unnatural somehow.” Neville paused as if the memory was getting too overpowering and took a long swallow of Butterbeer. “With the most self-satisfied smirk on his face, Wormtail responded, ‘Bella, how can you think I’m that stupid? Why I heard the Dark Lord himself say the other night that it’s a shame that the Handmaiden isn’t as beautiful as you are. Perhaps, he’s planning for a bit of reorganization.’ ”
Harry found he could not keep the incipient smile off his face. The petty rivalry between Wormtail and Bella could almost seem comical “ if they both weren’t cold-blooded killers, that is. In Lupin’s irreverent retelling style, he suspected that these events would be aptly rendered as a drawing room farce.
“Then my Gran boldly walked over to them and said, ‘As entertaining as I find your repartée, might I suggest that you take it outside?’ ”
“I’m sorry I didn’t meet your grandmother under better circumstances, Neville,” Harry commented with a chuckle. “She’s really something to behold!”
“Thanks, Harry.” Neville smiled as he resumed his narrative. “It’s at this point that Bellatrix stared Gran down and whispered, ‘It’s a shame the Dark Lord won’t let me marinate his feast before he shows up on the Potters’ doorstep.’ She sounded just like a viper in my mind. Wormtail skittered up to her and hissed, ‘Mistress, no one is supposed to know about the Potters. The Longbottoms are their friends, surely they will know to warn them at…Godric’s Hollow.’
“ ‘You fool! You little rat-tailed piece of vermin rubbish!’ Bella ranted. ‘Now I’m going to have to wipe this old lady’s memory.’ I saw a blinding flash of light from Bella’s wand and Gran fell in slow motion. Before she could hit the end of the coffee table, though, Wormtail dashed up and lowered Gran gently to the floor.
“ ‘Now look what you’ve done, you cow!’ he yelled back at Bella. ‘We could never have justified ourselves to the Master if the old lady was hurt. Let’s get out of here before your meddling causes me more headaches!’ I’m pretty certain they left at this point. Gran woke up and cuddled me in her arms until my parents returned.”
“I assume your grandmother retold these events to your parents? She didn’t totally lose her memory of the entire day, did she?” Lupin asked with barely contained excitement.
“She told them about the unexpected visitors; but you’re right, Professor, she omitted that last part about the Potters,” Neville supplied.
“Considering they were friends, don’t you think that a bit odd?” Lupin pressed further.
“But Bella zapped that bit of dialogue right out of my Gran’s mind!”
“A very precise bit of magic, I might add, often performed with disastrous results,” Lupin expounded. “But there are always residual effects. A bit of forgetfulness here and there, unexpected blank spaces in the middle of previously intact memories. Things that might be attributed to your grandmother’s age. But to your parents’ trained eyes, these aberrations might not be so easily dismissed. I think your parents were aware that you had overheard that conversation. They may even have suspected that Bella did not consider you significant enough to modify your memory.”
“She didn’t, did she?” Neville considered. “But both the Headmistress and Madam Pomfrey were so certain that I exhibited all the symptoms. I even have a memory of the Obliviator Squad entering our living room. How can that be, Professor?”
“I think I can untangle that for you,” Lupin supplied in a soothing tone. “The Obliviators did not arrive until days later -- after Bellatrix made a return visit and found your parents at home. After she tortured them. I’m sorry, I couldn’t think of any way to avoid saying that, Neville.”
“I understand, Professor. I have some vague memories of my parents screaming and yelling from the other room. I think my Gran must have whisked me away before…”
“Before things got too out of hand,” Lupin supplied sympathetically.
“Professor, would you mind terribly if we didn’t discuss those particular memories right now?” Neville pleaded. “I was so enjoying the happy-go-lucky faces of my parents from the birthday party you shared with me.”
“Of course, Neville, it’s really the other memory that’s more important “ for my purposes, anyway,” Lupin clarified. “Think back on Wormtail’s comment about the Potters. Can you hear all the words in your mind? Are there any blanks, any hesitations?”
“Everything is perfectly clear,” Neville confirmed.
“Tell me again what he said, word for word, please,” Lupin urged. Despite the calm outward appearance that he was projecting to Neville, Harry could tell that Lupin was coiled up inside.
Neville repeated the phrase, “The Longbottoms are their friends. Surely they will know to warn them at …Godric’s Hollow.”
Now Harry noticed it, too: Neville paused for a few seconds before he said, ‘Godric’s Hollow.’
“Think very carefully now. Does Wormtail give an exact address for the Potters, a street number, a street name?” Lupin’s eyes glittered with anticipation.
“Of course, Professor, why I just told you… didn’t I?” Neville replied with a spot of impatience.
“Actually, Neville, you didn’t,” Harry chimed in. “All you said was that the Potters were at Godric’s Hollow.”
“That’s the way I heard it also,” Lupin attested.
“But how can that be?” Neville asked, looking wildly from one face to the other. “I can hear the words clearly in my mind. Wormtail says, ‘…Godric’s Hollow’.”
“Try writing the words down,” Lupin offered. “Humor me, please.”
Neville concentrated carefully on the words he wrote down; then with a satisfied nod, he handed the paper to Lupin. Harry leaned in more closely to read over Lupin’s shoulder. It was only gibberish.
“I don’t understand, Professor,” Harry began. “Did Bella affect Neville’s mind after all?”
“Not Bella, it was the Fidelius Charm,” Lupin replied with conviction.
“I’m sorry, Professor, but didn’t I just write down the words that are flying around in my head?” Neville inquired anxiously.
“No, you didn’t, Neville,” Lupin replied with a broad smile. “Because you’re not the Secret-Keeper. Only Wormtail can pass those words along, either spoken or in writing.”
“But when I first visited Grimmauld Place, the information was passed on to me on a slip of paper,” Harry argued.
“Why was that, Harry? Moody, Tonks and I were all there, why didn’t we just tell you where to find number twelve? Whose hand-writing was on the slip of paper?” Lupin drew him out.
“It was Dumbledore’s handwriting! And he was the Order’s Secret-Keeper!” Harry couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to assemble the puzzle.
“I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid!” Neville moaned. “My poor Mum; even in her addled state, she’s been trying to tell me all these years! Every time I visited her in Hospital, she insisted on passing me little slips of gum wrappers as if she were passing me secret information. She always got very agitated if I didn’t give her messages their proper due. I never realized before now that she’d been trying to alert me to the fact that I’d received information directly from the Secret-Keeper!”
“Professor, does this mean what I think it means?” Harry could barely contain his desire to jump up and down.
Lupin smiled broadly as he took in both of their expectant faces. “I believe it does. Thanks to Neville’s invaluable assistance, I believe we may have just cracked the Godric’s Hollow Conundrum!”
“So, I’ll be able to visit my home after all?” Harry proposed.
“Hopefully. Next step is to field test our hypothesis,” Lupin intoned with obvious delight
“Lost us again, Professor,” Harry prodded in response to Neville’s blank look.
“We will see if the results Neville reported can be duplicated if we set up a similar situation. Too much is riding on this to take any chances, don’t you think?”
“Right now?” Neville asked.
“Absolutely,” Lupin returned. “Did I or did I not remember the Headmistress assigning the two of you to me for the duration of the afternoon?”
Although she had worded it a bit more diplomatically, Harry had to admit that Lupin had a point.
“We’re going to need at least another two volunteers, though,” Lupin thought aloud. “Does anyone know where Ron is?”
“He might be with Professor Flitwick,” Neville suggested warily.
Harry retuned with his Map and spread it out on the small table before them. Sure enough, Ron and Flitwick were in the office adjacent to the Charms classroom.
“Perfect!” Lupin announced. “Filius has been dying to learn more about the Conundrum for years; he’ll be thrilled to accompany us!”
They took the long way through the castle proper as Lupin explained that he did not feel interrupting someone’s scheduled lesson with a Floo message was very polite. The extra minutes also allowed them to devour the last of the oatmeal cookies leftover from lunch. Lupin had duly warned them that it might be a long stretch until tea time.
Lupin led them to an unfamiliar door, indicating that Flitwick’s office had an alternate entrance that was not commonly known to students. He brushed the last of the crumbs from his shirtfront and handed his empty Butterbeer bottle to Harry before knocking. The murmur of voices inside abruptly stopped as the door was cracked open a few inches by the tiny professor himself.
“Forgive me for interrupting, Filius, but something has come up that requires your immediate assistance,” Lupin offered with barely contained excitement. “I was hoping to commandeer Ron as well.”
“I almost have him cornered, Remus,” Flitwick whispered. “Can’t this wait another ten minutes?”
“It’s been waiting nearly seventeen years already,” Lupin returned, his eyes dancing.
Realization slowly colored Flitwick’s features. “Surely, you don’t mean….But, Remus, it can’t be….The Conundrum?”
“The one and only.” Lupin beamed as Flitwick threw his office door open wide.
Ron was perched on a stool on the far side of Flitwick’s massive desk, an elaborate three-dimensional chessboard set up before him. By Ron’s dour expression, it did not appear as if the match was progressing in his favor.
“Thank goodness, the reinforcements have arrived!” Ron exclaimed as he made room for Harry and Neville.
Directing his remarks to Flitwick, Lupin began, “I don’t want to get my hopes up until I can duplicate the results, of course.”
“You’ve cracked it, man! I can see it in your face!” Flitwick practically danced with joy. “How’d you do it?”
“Neville had the necessary puzzle piece. He overheard the Secret-Keeper, but the memory was locked away in his subconscious,” Lupin summarized handily.
“The statement was not directed at him?” Flitwick inquired pointedly.
“It was made to the room at large,” Lupin explained. “Only Neville and his grandmother were present “ other than Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange, that is.”
“Despicable company indeed,” Flitwick muttered. “Not your grandmother, of course, Longbottom. Wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea there….What about the grandmother, Remus? Didn’t she remember?”
“Bella wiped her memory. Did it so expertly that only that one line was expunged, no telltale holes in her memory of the afternoon to make her suspicious. Neville was only a baby at the time; they probably considered him of no importance.”
“If he’d already developed language skills “ even if he was not speaking aloud “ that would be a grave oversight on their part!” Flitwick observed.
“Death Eaters and their arrogance,” Harry commented.
“Unfortunately, I have another class that meets in less than an hour, Remus.” Flitwick sighed in frustration. “I don’t suppose you’d consider waiting until closer to tea time?”
“Not if I want to avoid alerting any of the other students wandering about at that hour,” Lupin admitted. “I do need one more person, though.”
“How about Hermione?” suggested Ron eagerly. “She’s just doing a bit of research in the Headmistress’ library.”
“Can you send her a Patronus message to meet us here?” Flitwick suggested. “I need to discuss a few of the protocols with Remus first.”
“I can do it; Tonks made sure I was never caught short again,” Harry volunteered as he made his way back out into the hallway. He returned moments later to find that Lupin and Flitwick were deep into their planning.
“Where do you expect to set up the blind?” Flitwick asked. “It will have to be someplace totally unfamiliar to your assistants. Knowing this bunch, that pretty much rules out all the secret passages as well as the Prefects’ bathroom, doesn’t it?”
“All I could think of was the secondary access to my private residence,” Lupin admitted.
“You shouldn’t have to give up your privacy at any cost, Remus. The Headmistress will be most displeased if you do that.” Flitwick’s eyes lit up with mischief. “I have a better idea: why not use Severus’ private laboratory? It’s been locked up since his…unexpected departure.”
“It’s been untouched all this time?” Lupin was surprised.
“Minerva felt that twenty years of research should not be consigned to the rubbish bin. You know how much he liked to brag that he would publish his findings one day. I’m sure she’ll loan you the key for the sake of your experiment.”
“Sounds ideal, Filius. Thanks!” Lupin grinned. “By the time we work everything out, she should be available.”
“As long as we’re still waiting for Hermione,” Flitwick proposed, “I believe Ron was in the middle of sharing the latest joke with me.”
Put on the spot like that, Ron hesitated. “Are you sure, Professor?” he implored, signaling in Lupin’s direction with his eyes.
“Remus won’t be offended that Tonks is mentioned in the joke,” Flitwick maintained.
“Not if she’s the one that gets the laugh,” Lupin agreed.
“She’s not the butt of the joke, is she?” Harry cautioned his best friend.
“No, she’s not,” Ron assured them. Glancing at the expectant faces around him, he took a deep breath and began, “Do you know why Tonks refuses to do any impersonations of Severus Snape?”
“Tell us,” Lupin urged gamely.
“Because she doesn’t want her face to get stuck in that one expression!” Ron offered, then sat there stoically while the joke tanked.
“That’s not really funny,” Flitwick remarked. “Had a promising opening, though.”
“Well, the problem is that Severus actually has more that one facial expression,” Lupin replied thoughtfully. “Try this Ron: let’s suppose that Tonks doesn’t want her face to get stuck between only three possible expressions. What would those be?”
Ron thought for a moment, then suggested, “There’s that disdainful look that makes his nostrils quiver ever so slightly as if he smells something unpleasant…”
“…or has stepped in it,” Flitwick finished to much laughter.
“Number two, anyone?” Lupin prompted with a chuckle.
“There’s the one where he’s trying to intimidate you to forget everything you ever learned, “ Neville volunteered shyly.
“Describe it more fully,” Lupin dared him.
“His eyes get all beady and they try to force their way through your forehead….just so he can prove to himself that your skull is the one true vacuum on earth,” Neville concluded as the laughter grew.
“Anyone have a third?” Lupin barely eked out.
“Yeah, the one he shows the Slytherins!” Harry snorted.
“I believe we have a winner!” Flitwick announced as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “I get to tell it to Minerva first!”
“You can’t just lay claim to it,” Ron cried. “It was a group effort!”
“My office, my privilege!” Flitwick shot back.
“You’re going to tell that joke to the Headmistress?” Neville’s eyes were suddenly filled with apprehension. “Please don’t tell her that I contributed.”
“No one confesses to anything,” Lupin intoned with authority. “It’s just a joke that’s making the rounds.”
“But the Headmistress won’t think it’s funny,” Neville protested.
“Yes, she will,” Hermione announced from the doorway. “Just as long as it’s not one of us students that tells it to her. Am I right?”
“Did you even hear the complete joke?” Ron asked her pointedly.
“No, but your laughter could be heard half-way down the hall, so I’m sure it was a good one,” she replied sweetly.
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: An unplanned domino effect leaves Neville as the only key.