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I Suspect Nargles by foolondahill17

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Chapter Notes: sorry it’s taken me so long to get this out. Usually my stories are strictly book-verse, but I couldn’t resist the line from Neville to Harry at the beginning of the battle.

If anyone’s interested in Betaing this story, please e-mail me.

–We’re his army,” said Neville, something building in his head, a roiling, burning sensation in his stomach that he recognized as anger, desperation -- something he’d felt many times when carrying out missions for the D.A. over the past year, the same feeling he had experienced while smashing Malfoy’s head into the wall. Neville couldn’t remember ever having felt it when speaking to Harry before. –Dumbledore’s Army. We were all in it together, we’ve been keeping it going while you three have been off on your own --”

–It hasn’t exactly been a picnic, mate.”

Neville turned to Ron sharply, retort jumping to his tongue. He choked it back. He’d learned over the year that he mustn’t lose his temper. One got nothing done when one lost control of themselves. Neville took a deep breath, fighting the strange, unexplainable frustration as best he could -- marveling that it had chosen to emerge now, when he was speaking to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, his friends, people who were on his side.

–I never said it had,” deep breath, concentrate on Harry, who looked exhausted, confused, almost panicked, trying to understand Harry’s position. ‘–But I don’t see why you can’t trust us. Everone in this room’s been fighting and they’ve been driven in here because the Carrows were hunting them down. Everyone in here’s proven they’re loyal to Dumbledore -- loyal to you.”

–Look,” said Harry, not sounding angry, but rather exasperated and curiously frantic.

–--We got your message, Neville!” Neville whirled around, ear catching hold of her voice, heart leaping. Luna climbed through the still open portrait hole with Dean Thomas behind her. Neville felt something twist in his stomach at the sight of her, something that was gloriously tingly and swooping. –Hello you three, I thought you must be here!” she added to Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Harry’s mouth hung open.

Neville felt his lips stretch. It was a moment before he recognized that he was smiling. Luna smiled vaguely at the room at large, something inside of Neville rejoiced as her smile swept over him. She looked -- it had been so long -- Neville had forgotten just how --

Someone brushed passed Neville’s shoulder: Seamus rushing to embrace Dean.

–Hi, everyone!” said Luna to the room. –Oh, it’s great to be back!”

Neville fought back the impulse to run and engulf Luna in his arms, telling himself it was the time. Besides, all the people watching….

Her hair was a glossy and flowing down her shoulders. Her face was tinged pink as if it had just been scrubbed, or else from sunburn. Neville felt his stomach swell in relief as he took in her appearance. She looked healthy. She looked whole. She had sent him a message through Dean’s Galleon after she had been rescued from Malfoy Manner; her time at Shell Cottage seemed to have done her good.

–Luna,” Harry was saying, –what are you doing here? How did you --?”

Neville was pulled abruptly back to the situation at hand. –I sent for her.” Neville fished for his own fake Galleon in his pocket and pulled it out. –I promised her and Ginny that if you turned up I’d let them know. We all thought that if you came back, it would mean revolution. That we were going to overthrow Snape and the Carrows.” Again the frustration simmered in Neville’s stomach. Harry wasn’t taking this at all the way Neville expected. Why wasn’t Harry taking this the way Neville had expected?

–Of course that’s what it means,” said Luna with her delightful, wholehearted certainty. –Isn’t it, Harry? We’re going to fight them out of Hogwarts?”

Somehow the way Luna said it, with a slight lilt at the end that suggested a question, Neville felt something rise within him, roaring -- of course they were going to fight them out of Hogwarts!

There was a strange light in Harry’s eyes as he answered Luna, something likened to panic -- something Neville frowned at. –Listen, I’m sorry, but that’s not what we came back for. There’s something we’ve got to do, and then --”

–You’re going to leave us in this mess?” said Michael, always one to cut directly to the point but in this instance Neville could not blame him.

–No!” said Ron rather aggressively. Neville remembered that Ron had never liked Michael Corner very much; it had had something to do with Ginny, Neville thought. –What we’re doing will benefit everyone in the end, it’s all about trying to get rid of You-Know-Who --”

Neville felt his voice leap from his lips, –Then let us help!” Neville was suddenly back in first-year, confronting the trio about leaving the Gryffindor common room. He wasn’t going to let them push him to the side. Not this time. He wasn’t a spectator, not anymore. They had all fought too long and too hard to have this snatched right out from under their noses. –We want to be a part of it!”

Neville caught a flash of red in the darkness of the open tunnel and Ginny appeared, climbing down and smiling.

–Aberforth’s getting a bit annoyed,” said Fred, climbing down after his sister. After Fred came George and Lee Jordan. Cho Chang clambered into the room, as well.

–So what’s the plan, Harry?” said George.

–There isn’t one,” said Harry. Neville noted the tone of distress in Harry’s voice.

–Just going to make it up as we go along, are we?” said Fred. –My favorite kind.”

–You’ve got to stop this!” Harry had suddenly turned on Neville, eyes were burning. Neville felt his hands ball into fists. –What did you call them all back for? This is insane --”

This was insane? Voldemort and his Death Eaters were insane! Harry’s reaction was insane -- Neville opened his mouth, feeling the words leap readily up his throat.

Dean cut him off, –We’re fighting, aren’t we? The message said Harry was back, and we were going to fight!”

That was what the message had said. Harry’s eyes bore into Neville’s face. Neville felt some past version of himself yield to the blush that was creeping up his cheeks. But not now. Neville Longbottom was not backing down now. He’d called for a fight and by-golly he’d fight, with or without Harry Potter’s permission if he had to. He clenched his jaw, refusing to back down to Harry, the boy who lived, the Chosen One, the one the D.A. had been fighting for all this past year. Suddenly Neville couldn’t even recognize him.

–Why can’t they help?”

Harry’s eyes pulled away from Neville, running to Ron, whom spoke.

–What?”

–They can help,” Ron insisted. He dropped his voice and bowed his head toward Harry so that Neville couldn’t read their lips. Hermione joined them.

He frowned at their three, closely pressed figures. It had been a year since he’d seen them. They looked thin and haggard. Their eyes held the same light he’d seen in many of the members of the D.A: a flighty, hunted kind of glimmer, like that of someone who’d been on the run for too long and didn’t know whom to trust.

He understood why Harry was hesitant to take their help, but that didn’t mean Neville was going to withdraw it.

His eyes were towed unconsciously to Luna, who had perched herself on the arm of Ginny’s chair. She caught his eye and smiled. Neville felt himself grin. It had been so long, so much had happened, something that felt like an eternity had passed since he’d last seen Luna smile. He felt the sensation that had been steadily rising in his chest hit a block as it moved up his throat.

–Okay,” Harry called suddenly. Neville snapped quickly back to attention. The overlapping conversations in the room ceased immediately. ‘–There’s something we need to find. Something -- something that’ll help us overthrow You-Know-Who. It’s here at Hogwarts, but we don’t know where. It might have belonged to Ravenclaw. Has anyone heard of an object like that? Has anyone ever come across something with her eagle on it, for instance?”

Neville’s eyebrows furrowed. Neville had not been expecting this. His eyes followed Harry’s, to the group of Ravenclaws clustered together. He did not know where Harry was going with this. He wondered what Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been doing all these past months, hidden from the rest of the world while Neville had been leading the D.A. back at Hogwarts.

–Well, there’s the lost diadem,” floated Luna’s voice across the silence of the room. Neville almost smiled again. It had been so long since he’d heard her voice. –I told you about it, remember, Harry? The lost diadem of Ravenclaw? Daddy’s trying to duplicate it.”

–Yeah, but the lost diadem is lost, Luna. That’s sort of the point,” said Michael. Neville turned to look at him just in time to see the dark-haired, handsome Ravenclaw roll his eyes.

Something tightened in Neville’s stomach. Michael was a good man, a valuable asset to the D.A., but Neville couldn’t blame Ron for disliking him somewhat.

–When was it lost?” Harry asked, rubbing his forehead with the back of his fist distractedly.

–Centuries ago, they say,”’Cho answered. –Professor Flitwick says the diadem vanished with Ravenclaw herself. People have looked, but nobody’s ever found a trace of it, have they?”

–Sorry, but what is a diadem?” said Ron. Neville was glad he wasn’t the only one to wonder.

–It’s a kind of a crown.”

–Yes, Daddy’s Wrackspurt siphons --” Luna began and Harry cut her off:

–And none of you have ever seen anything that looks like it?”

Neville still didn’t understand why this was so important. He wanted to interrupt to ask but held his tongue, recalling that it had been a while since he’d last taken orders. It was something he’d have to get used to again, with Harry back. The thought rankled somewhat discontentedly in Neville’s stomach.

Cho Chang suggested, –If you’d like to see what the diadem’s supposed to look like, I could take you up to our common room and show you, Harry? Ravenclaw’s wearing it in her statue.”

For a moment Harry’s face went oddly slack. Neville started forward a step, unsure if Harry was going to pass out or something and again wondering what the three had been up to.

Harry’s eyes cleared. He muttered something to Ron and Hermione that ended with – --Wait for me here and keep, you know -- the other one -- safe.”

Ginny said from behind Neville, voice as flaming as her red-hair, –No, Luna will take Harry, won’t you, Luna?”

Cho sat down again. Luna hopped up and crooned, –Oooh, yes, I’d like to.”

Harry turned back to look at Neville. –How do we get out?”

Neville kicked himself into motion and led Harry and Luna to the cupboard in the corner. He opened it to reveal the escalating staircase beyond.

–It comes out somewhere different every day,” he explained, –so they’ve never been able to find it. Only trouble is, we never know exactly where we’re going to end up when we go out. Be careful, Harry, they’re always patrolling the corridors at night.”

He’d meant to say something like look after Luna, but then he remembered that Luna already knew they patrolled the corridors at night. She was probably better equipped than Harry was, at coping with what the Carrows could throw at them. Luna would be fine.

–No problem,” said Harry. Maybe something in Harry gaze was telling Neville thank you, something genuine and something that reminded Neville of the years of friendship and trust they had behind him. –See you in a bit.”

Luna flashed Neville a smile as she followed Harry up the staircase. Neville felt disappointment flare unexpectedly in his stomach. He had wanted Luna to stay, to catch up with her, to ask her how she was and look her fully in the eye to make sure she was alright, that those Death Eater’s had not hurt her -- but there would be plenty of time for that later. Right now Luna had a job to do. Neville had a job to do. There was a war on, after all.

‘–Right,”’ he turned back to address Ron and Hermione, whom were muttering to each other by the open portrait hole, ‘–what now?”’

The last time Neville had seen Luna, she’d been screaming. Amycus Carrow’s fist had been tangled in her hair, wand held at the pale, smooth skin of her throat. Neville had rushed forward, blood pounding in his brain, not caring if he might be hurt, not caring if he might be killed, just wanting to get to Luna, save her, hold her in his arms, make her stop screaming, whisper it was alright, see Amycus Carrow’s blood on the ground….

But something had knocked Neville’s feet out from under him. The impact of the ground smashing against his chest had crushed the air from his lungs, seeping from between his teeth. Ginny’s elbow knocked painfully into his spine as she tripped over his legs.

There was a loud crack and then Luna was gone, her screaming suddenly disappeared and leaving a rattling silence in its wake.

The words left him in a rush, unbidden and certainly unintentional, but not untrue:

–I’m mad for her. I think it's about time I told her, since we'll probably both be dead by dawn!” Grim thought. Neville had never been exactly morbid, but if ever there was a time for realism, now was it.

There was that gleam of friendship in Harry’s eye again. Neville knew that everything had been forgiven and forgotten. It didn’t matter, whatever differences had sprung up between them during those frantic moments in the Room of Requirement. Besides, they were fighting, all uncertainty was now inconsequential.

The gleam also leapt to Ginny’s eyes and she grinned at him, fleetingly. Neville wondered if Ginny had realized it long before Neville had.

He left Harry and Ginny standing in the rushing crowd. He raced into the onslaught of evacuating students, pushing against the tide, feeling his pulse pound against the inside of his wrists. He looked wildly for Luna’s main of dirty-blond hair.

He was stupid not to have realized it until now. Of course he was in love with Luna. Never was there such a natural thing, never had he been so foolish as to have missed it, standing right in front of his eyes all this time.

He felt a steady drip of panic in his brain, which had nothing to do with the coming battle. Being in love was a terrifying thing. His heart pounded in his throat, blood surged in his ears. He felt like someone unrecognizable, like a wild man, like he could tear apart the Great Hall, brick by brick with his bare hands.

–Neville where are you running off to?” the sound of her voice only further enhanced his fever. Neville was seeing through a haze of glorious, warm, pulsing red. –You look like someone’s hit you with a confundus charm. Has the fighting started already?”

–Luna, I --” Neville stopped. Merlin she was beautiful.

Her shoulders were suddenly in his fists, pulling her toward him. He crushed his lips against hers, feeling her thin, willowy body pressed tightly within his arms. He’d never realized how tiny she was, how delicate, how he might squeeze and break her -- but he would never do that, never dream of hurting her.

He could feel her heartbeat against his chest, strangely steady against the wild flutter of his own. Her scent filled his nostrils until he could not breathe, something earthy and floral, like she’d been lying in the middle of a sunbathed meadow.

He realized he could not breathe and broke away from her, standing at arm’s length and gasping to refill his lungs with air. He felt lightheaded…exhilarated.

Luna looked strangely unconcerned.

–Oh how nice,” she said, –I hadn’t ever been kissed before and now it’s been two people in a month.”

The world came to a grating, jerking halt.

–Two --” said Neville.

The walls of the entrance hall came crashing down. Neville felt his lungs deflate, felt that wonderful, rising, glorious feeling of triumph that had been caught in his throat slip down, drip by drip into his stomach where it melted to the bottom of his feet.

He hadn’t got there first…. –Two people?” said his lips as his brain frantically told his mouth to shut up. He didn’t want to know, didn’t need to know, wanted nothing else then not to know.

–Yes,” said Luna, –you and Dean. I quite like it. I didn’t think it would be nearly so nice.”

He and Dean, the words slid into his brain -- which suddenly seemed gapingly empty – and reverberated off his skull and did not mean anything at all.

–Dean?” said his lips. His voice sounded odd and restrained in his ears, not at all like Neville Longbottom’s voice. Not at all like that roaring lion, wild, triumphant hero he had felt just seconds ago.

–Yes,” said Luna, –when we were at Shell Cottage together. Dean’s quite nice, you know. I didn’t realize it until I’d gotten to know him. He likes to draw.”

–Yes,” Neville echoed. There wasn’t anything else to say. He turned to leave her, feeling disjointed and confused, as if this was a dream. People around him were panicking, preparing in chaos for a battle, but Neville -- Neville felt strangely done, as if he wanted to go quietly up to his dormitory and crawl into bed, perhaps shed a few tears….

–Neville,” drifted Luna’s fluty voice through his ears, –I’m sorry. Was I not supposed to say that? Dean never said to keep our kiss a secret, but I didn’t know if it was protocol not to tell the next one --”

–No, Luna, it’s fine,” said Neville automatically. Feeling the words slip off his tongue but not feeling anything else.

At Shell Cottage. Who knew what Luna and Dean had gotten up to at Shell Cottage. Dean – Neville’s friend, dorm mate for six years --

–Oh,” said Luna, lips pursing, –I have ruined it. I can see it in your eyes.”

–No, no, really --”

–I’m sorry, Neville.”

–Don’t be -- it -- isn’t your fault.”

–I don’t know what to do to help, Neville.”

–It’s fine, really, I have to -- there’s a battle….”

–Good luck, Neville.”

–Yeah, see you -- see you after….” Suddenly, within the empty pit of his stomach, the echoing void where elation had once been, the full realization of what was coming began to roil and squirm, rising up Neville’s throat like bile. He could hardly breathe. Voldemort was coming. They were fighting. They were -- some of them were going to die. Perhaps they would not win.

–See you, Neville,” Luna chirped, and flounced away. In some unconnected part of his brain Neville wondered if perhaps she was going to find Dean, to fight side by side with him.

Neville swallowed past the lump in his throat. His brain was buzzing with confused thoughts and ideas, wild throws of terror, of crushing disappointment. He watched Luna’s curtain of dirty-blond hair disappear amongst the crowd and he felt a stony resolve begin to sink into his chest. It took the place of fear and anger, hardening into something he had never felt before.

Merlin, when he died tonight, he hoped he’d take half Voldemort’s army with him.

–Colin, you’re mad -- what are you doing here?” Neville’s voice came out of his lips in a shout. His throat felt raw and painful. Noises swirled deafeningly and indistinctly around his head: crashing, screaming, thumping, splitting air.

–Hey, Neville!” said Colin cheerfully, terribly small and thin and grinning. –Couldn’t let you have all the fun!”

–Colin, you -- get out! You shouldn’t be here!”

Colin shot a curse deftly over his shoulder. Neville spun to deflect an onslaught of rushing red light.

–No changing that now, Neville!”

There was truth in Colin’s words but Neville didn’t want to believe it. He stepped forward so that he stood slightly ahead of the younger boy, trying to shield him with his body. Colin was underage. Colin didn’t have to fight. Colin didn’t deserve to die for this.

Colin’s wand spun and spurted hexes with a speed that Neville had never seen the younger boy exhibit before. Colin’s face was aglow with life and enthusiasm, cheeks flushed red with the euphoria of battle.

Enthusiasm of Neville’s own blossomed in his chest, filling his pores, leaving his throat in a battle cry, the roaring of a lion, the screaming of righteous blood-lust in his ears. A beam of green light streamed passed Neville’s side, burning a hole in Neville’s whipping robes, hit Colin in the chest.

Colin fell, eyes wide, reflecting the bright spell-fire and dark, clear night sky, smile painting his face, hitting the cold, wet grass with a thud Neville couldn’t hear over the explosion of the world around him.

Numb. Neville felt numb. He wondered if that was the true mark of a warrior, numbness of soul and mind in the face of death. No tears, no ache. Nothing. Neville couldn’t feel anything. He held Colin’s ankles in his hands and carried the boy into the castle with Oliver.

He felt so tired. His arms ached from Colin’s weight, even though Colin was so small carrying him shouldn’t have even been a strain. Neville wanted to sleep. He didn’t feel anything. Only tired, very tired.

He tripped over his own feet as Oliver took Colin the rest of the way into the hall by himself. He wiped the cold sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Flashes of the past battle flickered through his mind, dull, colorless memories that felt centuries old, read in his History of Magic textbook instead of lived and seen through his own eyes.

Flashes of light everywhere. Screams of pain and fear and wrath. Burning in his hand as he shot spell after spell and curse after curse. Sweat running down his back. Heart pattering in his chest. Breath tearing up his throat. Bodies lying on the ground.

Luna… he’d passed her several times during the battle, seen her hair flying behind her out of the corner of his eye. She was fine. He’d seen her hugging Ginny in the Great Hall.

But Voldemort was coming back. More would die before the night was up. Maybe they would all die. Voldemort said he would kill them all if Harry didn’t surrender. And Harry wasn’t surrendering, not if Neville had anything to say about it.

They had all fought far too long, far too hard to have Harry throw it all away now.

Even if they all died they would fight. Funny, Neville wasn’t afraid to die.

Numb. He was just numb. Strangely at peace.

–Neville.”

Neville whirled around in frantic, battle-riddled nerves.

–Blimey, Harry, you nearly gave me heart failure!”

Harry looked as tired as Neville felt. His face was so pale he almost seemed to glow in the darkness of the courtyard.

–Where are you going alone?” Neville’s hear sluggishly began to accelerate.

–It’s all part of the plan,” Harry answered. Neville didn’t believe him. He’d always thought Harry was a rubbish liar. –There’s something I’ve got to do. Listen -- Neville --”

–Harry!” Neville was taken aback at the note of panic dripping in his voice. He felt his heart thumping against his ribs, fighting to get out. His stomach was suddenly surging with terror, something he hadn’t felt during the battle because there had not been time to feel. "Harry, you’re not thinking of handing yourself over?”

Harry couldn’t -- wouldn’t if Neville had anything to say about it.

Neville wondered if he was going crazy.

–No,” Harry said, that strange light in his eyes still present. Neville felt tears spring unexpectedly to his own.

Harry was always a rubbish liar.

–Course not…this is something else. But I might be out of sight for a while. You know Voldemort’s snake, Neville? He’s got a huge snake…. Calls it Nagini….”

–I’ve heard, yeah….” Voldemort’s snake. They were talking about Voldemort’s snake. Ravenclaw’s diadem, Voldemort’s snake….Neville didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to understand it. –What about it?”

–It’s got to be killed. Ron and Hermione know that, but just in case they --” Harry’s voice closed.

The night sky reflected back in Colin’s eyes, the feel of the boy’s ankles in Neville’s fists. Lavender, lying in a crumpled, unmoving heap at the base of the balcony with blood dripping from her throat. Numb. Neville was numb.

Harry’s voice pushed back up his throat, passed the same lump that was throbbing in Neville’s esophagus.

–Just in case they’re -- busy -- and you get the chance --” Busy like Harry would be busy.

–Kill the snake?”

–Kill the snake,” Harry repeated. Merlin, Neville would kill it. He would kill all of them, every single Death Eater that stood in his way.

–All right, Harry. You’re okay, are you?”

–I’m fine. Thanks, Neville.”

Neville’s hands seized Harry’s wrists, struck suddenly that Harry was moving away…leaving. Harry was leaving. Voldemort was coming back. They would fight. Die if they had to, but they would fight. Harry…and Harry, whom had been the D.A.’s stronghold, the thing that had drawn them all together, was leaving. Harry was leaving, would -- perhaps -- certainly….

Neville struggled to put something into words, some final farewell that could tell Harry how much of a symbol of bravery he had become to D.A. over the past months. How much a friend he had been these seven years.

–We’re all going to keep fighting, Harry. You know that?”

–Yeah, I --”

Neville saw Harry’s eyes brighten in the dim light of the courtyard. Going to die. All of them, perhaps, were going to die. He clapped Harry on the shoulder and released him. He moved on to the darkness, searching for more familiar faces -- hoping he could continue to feel numb for just a little longer.

–Very well,” Voldemort’s voice twisted through the air, dangerously low. Neville felt the breath coming up his throat stop in fear. Voldemort’s red eyes gleamed in the graying dawn. –If that is you choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On you head be it.”

Voldemort’s wand slashed. Neville twitched compulsively, expecting a curse to hit him, to dive aside at the flash of green light, but all there was was the sound of shattering glass.

Something flew through the darkness and landed in Voldemort’s outstretched hand. Pale, skeletal fingers curved around the pointed end of a frayed and shabby wizard’s hat.

–There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School,” said Voldemort, shaking out the Sorting Hat, holding it with the tips of his fingers as though he was reluctant to get it too close to him. –There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slythering, will suffice for everyone. Won’t they, Neville Longbottom?”

Not for him. Never for him. Blood boiled in Neville’s head. He felt anger overtake fear, reckless, wild wrath that threatened to tear the ground at his feet. This monster would not touch him, would not touch them, would not touch this school.

Not if Neville could stop it. Not if Neville could still lift a finger, could still raise a fist, his voice.

Neville opened his mouth to let loose a battle cry. His wand in his hand fidgeted, moving of its own accord to get into position –

Suddenly Neville couldn’t move. Voldemort had waved his wand again and Neville was rooted to the spot. He had a sudden, fleeting recollection of first-year again, standing before Harry, Ron, and Hermione, unwilling to stand aside and let them throw away the House Cup….

The Sorting Hat was suddenly fitted on Neville’s head, falling over his eyes.

He heard its voice, –Ah, Longbottom, Gryffindors the lot of them --” before someone started screaming and orange light flickered across the shadow over his eyes.

Burning. He was burning. He was writhing in pain only he couldn’t move. Screaming. Someone was screaming directly into his ear, tearing up his throat.

There was an indiscernible, thundering noise all around him, a jumble of movement as the floodgates were broken. Neville felt whatever was holding him snap and he jerked forward. He flung onto the ground and felt the Sorting Hat tip off of his head, smoldering on the ground before his face. He rolled to get rid of the flames, caught a glimpse of gold and ruby-red, snatched at random, stood to try and get his bearings, saw the snake, writhing mid-air, striking, fangs flashing and dripping poison, kill the snake someone yelled within his head.

The silver blade of the sword glinted in the coming dawn and withering flame of the Sorting Hat at Neville’s feet. The smooth handle fit tightly in the palm of his hand. It felt strangely light as he pulled it through the air, upward toward the darting snake.

Harry said kill the snake. For Harry, dead in Hagrid’s arms -- kill the snake. Kill Voldemort. For Harry -- and somehow the three thoughts were strangely connected in Neville’s mind as the sword sliced effortlessly through flesh and bone and sinew of the neck of the snake.

Its head was plainly severed off, flew through the air and landed on the ground with a thump Neville could not hear across the uproar around him. Neville saw Voldemort’s mouth fall open in a scream, saw his eyes gleam with impossible rage, saw his fingers rise in murder.

Neville fell backwards from the force of the silver Shield Charm that suddenly erupted between he and Voldemort. He was saved from falling to the ground by the crush of rushing people around him. He lost sight of Voldemort as he ducked from a jet of light shot from either friend or foe, Neville could not tell.

He caught another glimpse of Voldemort’s deathly pale face as he bore down of Seamus and Hannah -- Neville stepped forward but was blocked from intervening by the crowd. He saw another sudden flash of silver and Seamus and Hannah fled with the temporary protection of the Shield Charm.

He was suddenly side-by-side with Ron, firing spell after spell at Fenrir Greyback, whose chin was still stained red with Lavender’s and others’ blood. Ron’s face was pale and set, a fire flashed in his eyes that was the color of what Neville himself felt: Harry, dead -- but resolve to finish it -- kill them all. Finish it.

Die if they had to, but finish it.

More people than what seemed possible were streaming into the Great Hall. Neville saw Professor Slughorn and Madame Rosmerta, evidently come from Hogsmeade to fight.

Greyback fell. Neville knew not if it was from his or Ron’s wand, but, Merlin, he hoped it was his own.

Bellatrix was cackling in the middle of the hall. She dueled Hermione, Ginny, and Luna -- no, Luna, not Luna -- all at once. She shot curse after curse with manic intensity, keeping all three at bay with ease.

Neville heard her voice chiming off the ceiling of the great hall, mirth dripping from her laughter and wondered if perhaps she had laughed in kind when she’d watched his parents screaming on the floor. He rushed forward, but Molly Weasley got there first.

Neville had never seen Molly Weasley duel, had never imagined she could fight with such blinding passion. Her red, gray-tipped hair whipped backwards with every swipe of her wand. Bellatrix’s mouth fell into a snarl, her eyes flashing with cruel wrath.

Neville stepped forward to help bring her down, wondering what it would feel like to finally have Bellatrix under his own wand. He wondered if, when she screamed, he would hear the same ringing laughter in his own ears as she had in the face of torture, maiming, the tearing apart of family --

–No!” Molly Weasley shrieked. –Get back! Get back! She is mine!”

Neville knew not why he heeded her voice. His legs suddenly ceased to move, as if he had once again been hit by Voldemort’s immobilization charm.

Molly Weasley’s face contorted in concentration and rage as she cried –You -- will -- never -- touch -- our -- children -- again!”

And suddenly Neville knew that this was a mother’s love. Something he had never experienced before in his life except from crumpled, hopeless Drooble’s wrappers. This was a mother’s love and only truly righteous revenge.

Perhaps that was why he did not step forward.

Bellatrix laughed in exhilaration just as Colin had, in the same blinding, unshakable certainly of immortality and just like Colin, she fell, crumbling to the ground with the waking dawn reflected in her dark eyes. Neville felt something swoop in his chest that screamed at last--

Voldemort’s rage exploded at the other end of the room. Neville tottered as the ground shook. Voldemort turned to murder Molly Weasley --

–Protego!” the silver explosion of a Shield Charm expanded between Molly Weasley and Voldemort. The folds of his invisibility cloak shimmered in the emptiness of the Hall and Harry Potter appeared from what was once thin air.

Neville felt the warm, smooth handle clasped in his fist and realized he was still holding the sword of Gryffindor. He’d lost his wand but he still had the sword. He hadn’t let it go for a moment during the second wave of Voldemort’s followers.

Dead. Voldemort was dead now. The war was over. Over.

Neville was tired. Numb. Sore.

His grandmother strung her wiry arms around his waist and hugged him until he couldn’t breathe. There were tears in her eyes and in her throat as she croaked into his ear. –Proud. You’ve done them proud, Neville. My grandson. My brave, brave grandson.”

His vision blurred as he stared at the Hall over his grandmother’s shoulder. He felt his throat tighten but forced back the tears that threatened to engulf him. He wasn’t going to cry, not now. He wasn’t ready for tears, not yet. Not when he was holding the sword of Gryffindor at his side and everyone around him was celebrating because it was over--

Bloody over, and Voldemort was dead.

His gran released him and faced him from an arms’ length, hands clasped tightly over his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

–Wait ‘til we tell Frank and Alice about this, eh?” tears were sparkling in the base of her eyes, trickling slowly down her wrinkled, sturdy cheeks.

Neville had rarely seen his grandmother cry. He pressed his lips into a firm smile, trying to hide the trembling of his chin. He nodded briefly and his gran let go of his shoulders, moving to embrace other survivors.

Neville’s middle name was Francis. It was a combination of Frank and Alice -- with the soft A, the C, and the I -- at least that had been how his gran had explained it. But it didn’t help much, really, and Neville usually told them it was Frank, if anyone asked what the F stood for.

He wondered, had his parents still been -- there, living -- he wondered if they really would be proud. No doubt they would have joined him in the battle. That would have been something, it bloody would have. Fighting side by side with legendary Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom.

Fighting side by side with Mum and Dad.

Neville looked around the crowded Great Hall and wondered where it was he was supposed to go, what he was supposed to do. He’d expected relief, joy, towering triumph when and if it ever ended. He hadn’t expected this blank numbness, this cluelessness of what comes next.

He shuffled across the splintered floor, nodding to Seamus, Ernie, Susan, and Aberforth each in turn as he passed them. Hannah’s eyes were glistening with tears and she opened her mouth as if she wanted to tell him something but then closed it again, smiling with trembling lips.

Around him families were being reunited. Sorrow tipped joy filled every crack in the ceiling, which showed the dawning blue and perfectly clear day, rippling in a combination of magic and reality from where rebounding curses had blasted holes in the glass.

He saw the Malfoy’s hovering uncertainly in a corner. Draco Malfoy was partially obscured by his mother, whom stood in front of him as though a guard.

Neville remembered the soaring feeling he had felt in his chest when his fist had connected with Malfoy’s nose. At the time he had been afraid for Luna, mad for Luna, out of his mind with rage…for Luna.

He looked for her curtain of straggly, blond hair now, but couldn’t see her anywhere, and wondered if perhaps she was sitting with Dean.

He remembered the burn of her lips on his own and wondered what had come over him. He had been someone unrecognizable, brash and wild…. He didn’t know that side of Neville Longbottom. He didn’t know this side of Neville Longbottom. He wondered where he’d gotten to, in the midst of all this chaos. He wondered who he was. He wondered if he’d ever know.

He averted his eyes from the line of dead splayed in the center of the room. He did not want to look at them. Some unfamiliar sensation that he realized was fear started to churn in his stomach; he was afraid of the dead. He was afraid that he might see others there, others he had loved, others dead.

His legs were tired. He sat on the bench of a table. He laid the sword of Gryffindor on the tabletop in front of him, not loosening his grip on the handle. Platters of food had appeared out of nowhere and in a sort of blank compulsion, Neville filled a plate with his free hand and started eating.

The food was tasteless, but it gave him something to do while his mind plodded sluggishly, disjointedly along.

So many dead. Voldemort dead. But so many dead. It was over. Neville felt done. So tired. He was so tired.

–Neville?”

Neville looked up and swallowed with difficulty the dry chunk of bread he’d been chewing.

–Luna -- you….” She was smiling faintly. Grime covered her pale face. Her hair was tangled and pulled carelessly into a tale behind her head. –You alright?”

–I’m fine. How are you?”

It was as though they were meeting for lunch in Diagon Alley, sunlight spilling down on them, shaded below a large, striped umbrella.

–I’m fine,” said Neville. She climbed onto the bench beside him. He looked away, back to his plate of food. He somehow found he didn’t want to look at her. He tore a large chunk of bread off with his teeth and almost gagged as he found he couldn’t swallow. He hastily took a drink of his pumpkin juice.

Luna was silent beside him.

Neville wondered what on earth he was supposed to say.

–I’m glad about you and Dean, really --” Neville did not know where that came from. Not only had they completely been out of context of what they might have talked about, should have talked about, but he felt a nagging sense that it was completely inappropriate for this kind of situation.

–Me and Dean?” Luna chirped. –Is that what he’s telling people? I didn’t know.”

Neville looked at her. Her large, silver tinted eyes blinked back at him. –He -- he isn’t telling anyone anything. I thought -- you said -- you kissed him!” His voice sounded accusatory, a tone he had never taken with Luna before.

–Oh, but we aren’t together,” Luna said. Somewhere in that unconnected part of his brain Neville thought it extremely odd to hear Luna Lovegood talk about this with such proficiency. Another part of him leapt --

–You aren’t?”

–Oh no,” Luna shrugged. –Just friends, you know. Was that what was bothering you? I hope you weren’t thinking about it during the whole battle.”

–No -- no, I wasn’t…not really,” Neville blushed. He wondered if Luna thought him shallow.

Luna sighed. –I’m glad the battle’s over. I’m glad Voldemort’s dead, too. I’m glad Harry’s alive. I suppose I’m just glad all around. Except not really. It’s really rather sad, isn’t it?”

Neville clenched his jaw, fighting back the block in his throat. He nodded.

–But then again,” Luna continued. –I suppose everyone who died did so willingly. That’s a wonderful gift, isn’t it, Neville? To give someone your life.”

Neville felt twisting and burning in his throat. Water welled in his eyes and slithered down his cheeks. He thought of Colin, lying in the line of dead down the center of the Hall, of Harry, who’d gone off into the forest and come back in Hagrid’s arms, of his Mum and Dad, lying on matching, gray beds in St. Mungos.

Luna’s face, colored brown with dust and dirt, was illuminated by the rising sun through the ceiling of the Great Hall. Neville looked at her and felt his heart pull. He was suddenly struck with an almost uncontrollable desire to grab hold of her hand, to feel her thin, cool fingers clutched in his palm.

–Yes, it’s a wonderful gift, Luna. The most wonderful gift on them all.”

Luna smiled and caressed his fingers in hers, clutching the hand that held the sword of Gryffindor, blade glimmering in the sunlight.
Chapter Endnotes: Author’s Note: My gosh, I started crying while writing this. Neville will forever have a special place in my heart.

Next Chapter: to be determined, Hannah or Ginny, probably Hannah.

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