“I can’t believe Snape was a Death Eater,” said Hermione. “How did it never become known?”
“He gave evidence secretly and the whole thing was kept quiet,” replied Neville. “Even Moody wouldn’t tell me exactly why he distrusted Snape.” Neville had taken the first opportunity to tell the two people he trusted the most, Hermione and Ginny, everything he had seen in the Pensieve. Everything except what he had learned about Harry’s parents. As Dumbledore had asked him, he respected Harry’s privacy. Then again, he wondered if Ginny already knew. Ron knew, he was sure of that; perhaps it was common knowledge among the Weasleys. Even his Gran had known about it, he remembered; presumably it had been well-known and reported at the time.
“But why would Dumbledore make him a teacher?” asked Ginny. “I mean, can you imagine the uproar if this got out?”
“He just said he deserved a second chance,” said Neville. “But Moody obviously thinks he doesn’t. I don’t know who to believe.”
“Well, there’s not much we can do about it, but one thing’s for certain, I’ll be warier of Snape in future,” said Ginny.
Afterwards, Neville was still thinking about Harry and his parents. He had always looked up to Harry in a way, but what he had learned had given him a new-found respect for the warm-hearted Marauder and Quidditch star. Whilst he understood what it was like to lose one’s parents, he could not image what it must be like to lose them, but have them still there.
He thought about how much Harry, and Sirius, hated Snape, and also the antagonism that had existed between Snape and Harry’s father. He wondered what Harry would say if he were ever to learn that Snape had been the one that had given the evidence that put his parents’ attackers behind bars.
* * *
A few weeks into the new term, a strange sight began to appear on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. The stands surrounding the pitch had been partly cleared away and something was growing rapidly across the whole area: massive thick hedges rising up to twenty feet high. In their next training session, Moody informed Neville that what was being created was a massive maze that would form the basis of the Third, and final, Task of the Triwizard Tournament. “The maze will contain an assortment of obstacles, enchantments and magical creatures, so a more all-round, general approach will be needed,” he said. “I have managed to get some idea of what will be placed in the maze, but I can’t know which in particular you will face. I shall have to do my best to prepare you for every eventuality. You will be expected to make a fair attempt to compete, but remember this isn’t about winning, so don’t go being reckless or overstretching yourself. If you need to withdraw, do so. You’ll have done your part.”
The Third Task was set for the end of June after the end-of-year exams. As a champion, Neville was exempt from the exams, the one good thing for him about the whole affair, as he saw it. That gave him more time to prepare for the task, and Moody threw him into an intense course of Defence Against the Dark Arts training. Much of it had no effect whatsoever, but Neville was able to pick up a few useful jinxes and charms.
Several times, Moody staged full-on open-ended duels between Neville and Sirius, with himself acting as referee. The idea was, so he said, to test Neville’s reactions to unexpected attacks and his split-second decision making. Sirius always won, but Moody did not seem to think the efforts wasted. His main criticism against Neville was his over-reliance on the Stunning Spell at the expense of other options.
All through May and into June, Neville was on the lookout for anything that might point towards his dream about Voldemort and Pettigrew being true, or anything that might indicate what it meant. But nothing happened that suggested it was anything other than just a dream, and he was beginning to believe that was all it was.
What free time he had in those weeks he spent with Ginny. The two of them had now become quite comfortable with being together although, as they were in different classes and both had a lot of work, the only real free time they both had was at the weekends. They were already making plans to meet up over the summer.
At long last the week of the exams came. Every Hogwarts student was stressed and nervous, but none could claim to be more apprehensive than Neville. He found it ironic that everyone around him was desperately looking forward to Saturday, whilst he was dreading its coming more than anything. He saw very little of any of his friends that week as they rushed from exam to exam, and deliberately avoided the celebrations on the Friday evening. He stayed in the dormitory instead, fretting and trying desperately to remember as much as he could of what Moody had told him. When Harry and Ron finally entered the dormitory late that night, they found Neville fast asleep on his bed, still in his robes, his Remembrall clutched tightly in his right hand.
The morning of the Third Task was hot and humid, but Neville did not notice the warmth. In the Great Hall, as he had twice before, he ate breakfast alone, left to his own thoughts by the other Gryffindors. He then went straight back to his dormitory and spent the rest of the morning pacing the room, absently twirling his wand, muttering to himself, unable to calm his mind.
The champions had all been instructed to gather in the room off the Great Hall at lunchtime. When Neville entered, he found that he was the last to arrive. The families of each champion were also present, including Gran. She put a firm hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Well, Neville, this is the final day,” she said with an air of relief. “Come tonight, this will all be over.”
Cedric’s father Amos approached them. “How are you feeling, Neville?” he asked. “Nervous, I expect. You may have done well in the Second Task, but my Cedric is still well ahead. I don’t think anything could stop him winning now.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” said Neville. Of all the other champions, he wanted Cedric to win, in spite of the bragging of his father. He thought Cedric the most talented and fair-minded of the competitors. Of course, he had been careful not to mention that to Hermione.
Immediately after lunch, Neville and Gran went out into the Entrance Hall, where they found Moody waiting for them. He asked to accompany them on their walk around the grounds, and they discussed the Tournament in general and the upcoming Task. “I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done for Neville this year,” Gran told Moody.
“It was the least I could do for Frank and Alice’s son,” replied Moody. “You have a fine grandson here, Mrs Longbottom. He may not have his parents’ exceptional talent, but he has his father’s determination and his mother’s integrity. I have confidence in him.” Gran did not reply, but there was a definite look of happy surprise on her face.
There was a grand dinner laid on in the evening for the champions, their families and the Triwizard judges. Neville noticed that Ron’s brother Percy was present as Mr Crouch’s assistant. Crouch had brought along his house-elf again as well. Bagman was noticeably agitated and squirming in his seat, constantly peering around the room. Dumbledore, Preminin and Maxime were jovial and relaxed. Amos Diggory was loudly boasting about his son’s achievements to anyone in earshot, whilst Cedric and Mrs Diggory retained a dignified and modest silence.
After dinner, they were all lead out to the maze. It was now late in the evening, less than an hour before sunset. The stands were already packed with spectators, although they had little chance of seeing anything within the maze. Neville nervously waved to Ginny, Hermione and the Marauders, who were sitting in a top tier with Sirius. Gran and the other family members made their way to their reserved seats as Bagman made the announcements.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the rules of the Third Task are very simple. The Triwizard Cup has been placed at the centre of this maze, guarded by an assortment of magical obstacles. The champions will enter the maze in the order of their current positions in the Tournament. That is, Mr Diggory first, followed by Mr Krum, then Mr Longbottom and, finally, Miss Delacour. The first champion to seize the Triwizard Cup will win the Tournament. If a champion finds it necessary to withdraw at any point, they may send up red sparks from their wand and Hogwarts staff patrolling the perimeter will extract them. Champions, take your positions.”
Cedric, Viktor, Fleur and Neville each moved in front of one of the four entrances to the maze. Moody, who had been standing close by, stepped forward and whispered to Neville, “I’ll be one of those on patrol. Don’t think twice if you need to come out. Good luck, Neville. Whatever happens, it has been a privilege to tutor a Longbottom once more. Remember, constant vigilance.” He walked away, his magical eye busy scanning anything it could see, leaving Neville standing alone.
At the blast of a whistle, Cedric entered the maze, quickly followed by Viktor. It seemed an age before Neville finally got his signal to go in. With a deep breath, he ran forward. The noise of the crowd faded behind him as he turned the first corner, wand out, ready for whatever he might face.
As he had no clear plan of what to do, and was in no particular hurry, he quickly became lost amid the hedges, choosing directions at random and moving at a leisurely pace. He was struck by how little in the way of challenges he seemed to encounter and guessed it was because he was nowhere near the cup. He began to wonder how long he would have to wander around before someone else won.
He rounded a corner and was confronted by a wall of fire blocking his path. The fire was magically contained and not setting the hedges alight. Whilst he tried to think of an extinguishing spell, suddenly he heard a loud bang from somewhere to his right and a stifled scream which sounded like Fleur. Neville turned away from the wall and tried to find a path towards where the scream had come from, but the maze defeated him.
He turned left at the next junction and recoiled in horror. Standing there in front of him was none other than Lord Voldemort himself, in hideous snake-like form. Bewildered, Neville turned to run, until he realised he had seen this sight before, in Sirius’ classroom the better part of two years ago. Voldemort was far away, and a disembodied spirit. This was a boggart.
Neville struggled to master his fear. “It’s not real,” he muttered to himself, raising his wand. “Riddikulus!” he cried. The image of Voldemort shrunk to tiny dwarf size, wearing a comical pink robe and with a clown-like painted face. Neville ran on past it, relieved that Riddikulus at least was one spell that he could usually manage.
The sun had now almost set, and Neville lit his wand as the darkness closed in. He thought he saw a flash of light up ahead and ran to investigate. There was nothing there, but as he went on a little further, he saw a figure slumped against a hedge. When he got close enough to see, Neville was shocked to discover it was Viktor Krum.
He was unconscious, but still breathing. There was a nasty cut on his forehead and his ankle looked twisted. Neville was at a loss to explain how he suffered his injuries; there was nothing else around and Viktor’s wand was still in his hand. With no idea what else to do, Neville fired red sparks into the air and moved on, hoping that Moody or one of the other teachers would be able to help Krum.
He was growing more and more anxious by the minute, with the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong, but with no idea why. He felt even more acutely alone in the dark, and the hedges seemed to close in around him, leaving him feeling trapped and helpless. Were he and Cedric the only competitors left?
He took a right turn and found himself confronted by a huge troll wielding a heavy club. Wondering what else this crazy Task would throw at him, Neville tried to back away slowly, but the troll caught sight of the light from his wand and charged. Desperately, Neville tried to think of an appropriate spell. He had only ever encountered a troll face to face once before, in the rooms leading to the Philosopher’s Stone in his first year, but that one had already been rendered unconscious by Quirrell. He tried a Stunning spell, but it just bounced right off the troll’s chest.
Suddenly, there was a cry of “Neville!” behind him and a spell shot over his head and struck the troll in the face. The troll staggered, seemingly temporarily blinded by the curse. It turned and crashed into the hedge, crushing a section as it fell to the ground. Neville turned to see Cedric rushing to his side, his wand still outstretched. “Are you all right?” he asked breathlessly.
Neville nodded. “It’s been mad, this Task,” Cedric added. Neville saw that his face was dirty and there was a thin gash on his left forearm. “Something happened to Fleur back there, she’s out.”
“Krum’s out too. I just passed him,” replied Neville.
“Hogwarts all the way then, eh?” smiled Cedric. He indicated the troll. “Is it knocked out?”
“I think so. Let’s not wait around for it to wake up.”
“Good idea. Let’s go.” Neville and Cedric ran on together, but soon they came to a T-junction. “We can’t be far away,” reckoned Cedric. “Tell you what: you go left, I’ll go right. May the best man win.” He held out his hand.
“Okay,” agreed Neville, and shook Cedric’s outstretched hand. They turned away from each other and took their respective paths.
Neville’s path soon turned right again, and then again, so he was almost doubling back on himself. Suddenly, and to his astonishment, he saw the glinting light of the Triwizard Cup in the distance far ahead, standing on a pedestal. Neville couldn’t believe it. Could he actually win?
He ran forward, but when he was still far from the cup, a blast of wind knocked him back. A small magical tornado had risen up to block his path, a last challenge to overcome before victory. But Neville had no idea of how to get past it. His tired, agitated brain could think of no appropriate counter-spell. He thought about maybe blasting his way around or underneath the tornado, but it seemed unlikely and he doubted any Reductor Curse he could generate would be powerful enough. Desperately, he took the only course of action he could think of. He charged forward and leapt headlong into the centre of the tornado, hoping against hope that he would be thrown out in the right direction.
The tornado lifted him up and whipped him around violently, before throwing him out hard against a hedge. He smashed into it and crashed painfully back down to the ground, thumping his head on the solid earth.
Every part of him ached and he struggled to raise his head. Dazed, he looked forward and could see the Triwizard Cup in the distance, but he could not find the strength to lift himself up.
Then, from out of a side passage up ahead, he saw Cedric emerge. Not seeing Neville, Cedric ran on down the path. From his position prone on the ground, Neville saw Cedric reach the pedestal, victoriously seize hold of the Triwizard Cup, and vanish.
Neville Longbottom and the Goblet of Fire by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which Neville takes part in the Third and final Task of the Triwizard Tournament.