Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness, page 2
Parvati's voice was hushed. "What's four?"
He lowered the last finger. "We fight. If Harry comes back and needs us, we fight then. Personally, that's what I believe - that he can do this, but he'll need our help. It's only a matter of time before he's back, but we don't have infinite time, so on the very last day before school is over, if there's no word from Harry yet, we go all out. Either way, we make a proper battle of it. Take out every last Death Eater we can manage, hopefully Snape in the bargain. Use every exotic spell and dirty trick we can think of. Make them pay for everyone missing, everyone terrorized, everyone killed. Even the odds a little for Harry and the Order, and give the public that massacre that You-Know-Who doesn't want - get people outraged in a way the Prophet can't cover up. We still die, but we die on our terms, and we die accomplishing something, not just picked off one by one in back alleys with our deaths glossed over and ignored."
There was a long, terrible silence following his words, and Neville stared at the floor, unable to quite believe what he had just said, even though he had been thinking it for almost a week now. It had seemed like the only sensible thing to do inside his head, but when spoken, it sounded like some kind of grand, brave gesture, even something heroic. Colin was right, it did sound like something Harry would say, and the comparison made Neville deeply uncomfortable.
Finally, Ginny stood, tossing back her mane of bright red hair defiantly. "I've been looking for a way to top Fred and George on their exit," she said. "I'm in."
Seamus reached out his left hand, his right still cradled against his chest, and took Ginny's small white one. "I don't see myself winning any Death Eater popularity contests anyway, so why the hell not? I'm with you."
Parvati's hand joined the other two. "I can't speak for Padma, but count me in. I just hope my next life is something quieter."
"And me!" Colin thrust his hand out with an excitement that made Neville shiver.
"What else is a Gryffindor girl to do?" Lavender's hand joined them.
Slowly, Neville placed his hand atop the cluster of others, hoping that no one would notice how badly it was shaking. "I said it, so I guess I can't back out."
"I'd hope not, Neville," Ginny's brown eyes flashed at him in the firelight. "You're our leader."
Neville gaped at her. "I'm --"
"All in favor of Neville taking over for Harry as leader of the DA?" Ginny's voice carried over his protestations, and Neville was shocked to see heads nod all around him. She grinned, showing the dazzling white smile that had laid boys all over the school, including the famous Boy Who Lived, helpless at her feet. "Then that's settled. We'll talk to the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs later, but I think as of right now, Dumbledore's Army is back."
Neville's eyes swept the faces of his friends, taking in the belief in all of their expressions, and lingering on each in turn. Bright, fiery Ginny, the last Weasley left at Hogwarts. Cool, exotic Parvati, her dark eyes utterly trusting. Tempestuous Lavender, her best friend, standing at her side more like a sister than Parvati's own twin, and just as ready to lay down her life. Colin, his expression guileless and determined, brimming with the endless bravery of the naïve. Seamus, still in so much pain, his eyes still swollen nearly shut but resolute nonetheless.
In the flickering, deceptive shadows of the firelight, it almost seemed as though other Gryffindor faces were there as well. Bushy-haired, sharp-eyed Hermione. Stalwart Ron, red hair glowing beside his sister. The twins, laughing with some secret joke, Lee Jordan beside them like a mismatched triplet. Dean, eyes and smile gleaming from his dark face. And Harry. Harry with the lightning scar that marked him as so different from the rest of them, black hair sticking out in all directions, glasses glinting over that piercing green gaze that he had always relied on to take the lead.
Neville looked at all of them, there and there in spirit alike as he nodded. "Dumbledore's Army!"
OOO
"Six hundred eighty one, six hundred eighty two, six hundred eighty three ..." Neville sighed and sat up, grabbing his pillow and punching at it in hopes of somehow knocking it into a shape that might be more conducive to sleep. There was nothing wrong with it, no lumps or really anything uncomfortable at all, but it gave him the feeling that he was doing something besides uselessly counting Hippogriffs. With a deep sigh, he flopped back down. "Six hundred eighty four ..."
A faint knock sounded at the door of the boys' dormitory, and Neville sat bolt upright, grabbing his wand off of the nightstand as he swung his legs off the side of the bed and parted the curtains with one hand. "Who is it?" he whispered.
"Ginny."
Letting out a sigh of relief that it wasn't Snape or the Carrows there to announce that they knew what he had done that afternoon, Neville climbed out of the bed and started towards the door. He had only made it a few steps across the pitch-black room when his toe abruptly met something painfully unyielding, and he let out a sharp yelp. Biting back the urge to yell out a few of the better swear words he had learned from his uncle, he hopped awkwardly in a circle, grabbing his foot until the worst of the throbbing stopped. Why did stubbing your toe have to hurt so much?
Gingerly lowering his foot to the floor again, he held his wand out ahead of him and muttered " Lumos!" The tip ignited with the familiar blue light, and Neville was able to see that his assailant was actually what had once been his own bed. With Harry, Ron, and Dean missing, the two remaining boys in their dormitory had been moved from the third and fifth beds into the first and second, and the change had not quite registered in Neville's mental map of the tower room.
Using the wand light to avoid any more unpleasant encounters with furniture, Neville made his way across to the door and opened it. Ginny swept past him in a blur of red hair and blue and white stripes, moving so quickly that he barely stepped back in time to avoid being run into. "What took you so long?" she hissed.
"Sorry. Stubbed my toe."
She was perched cross-legged on Dean's old bed now, arms folded tightly across her chest, and as Neville shut the door and crossed towards her, he was struck suddenly by how young and tiny she looked. Her hair was in two long braids that fell forward over her shoulders, and she was almost lost in a pair of pajamas that had been rolled up a dozen times at the arms and legs, but were still at least four sizes too big for her.
Following his eyes, Ginny blushed. All of the Weasleys, he noted, did this with gusto, and the red tinge was clearly visible even in the blue cast of the wand's glow. "They were Ron's," she explained, and there was a touch of defiant embarrassment in her tone. "I usually don't get hand-me-downs from the boys, but things are ... well, Bill just got married, and we don't know how much longer Dad or the twins are going to be able to work, so - I mean, they're just pajamas."
Well aware of how touchy Ron was on the subject of his family's finances, Neville smiled gently. "They're kind of cute, really. It looks sort of like you've borrowed them from your boyfriend or something."
She snorted. "If I'd done that, I could have saved myself six inches in the arms and legs."
Neville couldn't help but smile at this as he climbed up onto the bed next to her. "You didn't come here at three in the morning to show me Ron's pajamas."
Ginny looked down, fidgeting with the turn-up on one leg. "It's stupid."
He shrugged. "I was up anyway. Couldn't sleep."
"I had a nightmare," she confessed. "I dreamed that I'd messed things up with Seamus, and his ... hisarmsandlegshadfallenoffandhewasmadatmeforit." The last part came out in a single humiliated rush, and she covered her face with both hands. "Oh, it sounds so ridiculous now that I've come all the way up here!"
Neville shook his head. "No, it doesn't. You were just worried about him. Parvati and Lavender have been up to check too. We're all worried about him. He took a hell of a beating, and none of us are exactly certified Healers."
She nodded gratefully, not bothering to hide as she looked towards the far bed where Seamus was just visible as a long lump beneath the covers. "Is he still sleeping well?"
"Romilda made a really good Sleeping Draught -- she's great with Potions. He hasn't stirred since we gave it to him, but he's still breathing and everything just fine. Having a rest really is what's best for him. You can check on him yourself if you want."
"No, that's okay. As long as you're sure all his arms and legs are still attached."
"As much as they have been since Carrow finished with him." Neville smiled.
Nodding, she uncrossed her legs and started to get up. "I should get back to the girls' dorm, then. I'm sorry I bothered you."
"Wait!" He put out a hand, and she stopped, looking curiously at him. He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly not sure whether he wanted to say what had been keeping him awake. "I just ... never mind."
"What, Neville?" She sat down again, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed as she leaned back, propping herself on her arms. Her hands and feet vanished into the pajamas, and she looked smaller than ever. Neville felt the sense of guilt rise to a level that seemed to choke him. For all her fire, she was still Ron's baby sister, and he had all but agreed to kill her today. He had no right. He had no right with any of them.
"I just ... what happened earlier. I've been thinking about it. You guys made a mistake, a big mistake." He looked pleadingly at her. "Just because I was the first one to say something, doesn't mean - you would have figured it out, I know it. That doesn't make me the leader. I can't be the leader. I can't do this, I can't take that kind of responsibility, I'm not good enough."
Ginny frowned at him. "Why not?"
"Because ..." He trailed off, gesturing at himself as if to indicate that the answer was obvious. "You know."
She tilted her head at him, seeming to give the matter serious consideration for a few seconds, then spoke, her voice lightly tinged with an edge of sarcasm. "You know, you're at least as tall as Ron, your voice has changed, and I think you shave more often than Harry, so it really confuses me."
He blinked. "What?"
"Well, that would seem to indicate that you've got a working set of what they do, so I don't see why you constantly refuse to use them."
Neville blushed fiercely. "Ginny!"
"Oh, come off it!" She rolled her eyes. "I'm the only girl in a family of seven! I could belch the entire Chudley Cannons fight song by the time I was four, but Katie Bell had to tell me when I needed a bra and show me how to put the effing thing on, so don't act like I'm supposed to be some sheltered little flower about how boys are put together."
"I don't ... I mean ... I just ..." He was at a complete loss for words, but Ginny was not.
"I don't understand you, Neville Longbottom. The only person I've ever known who sells themselves as constantly short as you do is Ron, and even he's not that bad. You seem dead set on proving to everyone that you're worthless, and woe be to anyone who says differently. And don't start on your Gran, either. Even Professor McGonagall says she needs to stop -"
"Yeah, I know," Neville broke in. "Stop trying for the grandson she wishes she had and start being proud of the one she has. That's not something you say to someone whose kid is something great, Ginny. That's something you say when someone needs to settle for what they've gotten."
"That's not what she meant, and you know it!"
"It's true, though!" He stood, aware that he was using his height over her, but determined to make her listen to what seemed to him to be the inescapable truth. "I'm not half the wizard my Dad was. He was an Auror! He and my -" Neville stopped abruptly and looked away, feeling suddenly sick as he remembered that Ginny had been there that awful day at St. Mungo's and seen what had become of his parents.
A long moment passed, and then he felt her hand on his arm. She had stood as well, and her touch was surprisingly gentle. "What?" Her voice was kind, but held a deep undercurrent of stubbornness as well. "Neville, what exactly happened to your parents? I've seen the Cruciatus Curse now, I know how awful it is, but it's not that simple, is it?"
"It was my fault." Neville was stunned to hear the words come out of his mouth. He had never spoken them aloud before, no matter how many times they had repeated in his head and heart, but now it was as if some invisible line had been crossed, and he couldn't stop it. "They were after me. I don't know why, no one knows why - but they thought if they could get me, they could figure out what Harry had done to make You-Know-Who disappear. Maybe they thought it was something in Aurors' kids, or kids born in July, or one-year-olds, or ... my parents hid me in a closet. Put a Silencing Charm on it and concealed the door. It cost them their chance to get away ... They couldn't tell them where he was, they didn't know, but if they'd said where ... If they'd just ..."
He buried his face in his hands and sank down to the bed again, ashamed to feel hot tears seeping between his fingers but unable to keep them back. "Fourteen hours. Oh, God, Ginny, they tortured them for fourteen hours! The Healers ... the body protects itself. Anything that causes that kind of pain for more than a few minutes ... it should be an awful injury ... injuries cause endorphins, shock, you pass out, you die. A person isn't meant to be in that kind of pain that's just pain for that long. The brain can't cope! If they'd just ..." A sob so deep it hurt choked the words. "I wasn't worth it! I wish they'd known I wasn't worth it! They let themselves be worse than killed for me, and I'm nothing compared to them!"
All the shame, all the pain, all the guilt of sixteen years had come to the surface now, and Neville could say nothing more. He didn't even care if Ginny was there or not. His knees drew up to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around them in a tight ball, as if he could make himself disappear, undo the very fact of his existence. The sobs came from somewhere so grievous that they didn't even have sound, they were just great, heaving gasps that seemed to tear him apart as the tears soaked the knees of his pajamas in wide dark patches.
Neville wept until his throat was raw and his chest ached. He did not know if it had been minutes, hours, or even days, but at last his swollen eyes seemed to run dry. Only then did he notice that something soft and warm was curled against his back, slender arms encircling his shoulders in a gentle embrace. Immediately, an awareness of what he had just done came flooding over him, and he sat up quickly, shaking her off with a look of horrified embarrassment. "I'm ... I'm so sorry ... I don't know --"
Her face held none of the contempt or pity he had expected to see. Instead, the brown eyes were looking at him with an expression so unexpected that he was at a loss to identify it. She reached towards him again, placing one small hand unflinchingly on his shoulder, and said the last thing he had ever imagined she would. "You are so much stronger than I thought you were."
"What?" His voice was hoarse, almost gone entirely.
"Harry's got half the wizarding world petting him and calling him a hero and consoling him about his parents. Ron's down on himself all the time, but it's all in his head, and he's going to figure that out one of these days, even if Hermione has to write it down on something heavy and beat him with it. You...you've carried that around all these years alone, and when it's weighed you down, people have just added to it without even knowing it was there ... and the one person who did know has made it the heaviest of all. That you've managed to keep going is strong enough, but you've done so much more than that. It's amazing." The respect in her voice was completely genuine, but Neville shook his head in confusion.
"I haven't, though. I screw up everything I try. I'm not a hero at all," he protested.
"I saw you fight the Squad in Umbridge's office, and the Death Eaters at the Ministry, and again at the tower. You're not nearly as bad as you think you are most of the time, but when you fight ..." she shook her head slowly, "you're amazing."
"Harry--"
A hand over his mouth cut him off, and now those sharp brown eyes were only inches from his. "I've watched you both. Harry fights bravely. So does Ron, so does Hermione - hell, we're Gryffindors, we all fight bravely. But you're something else. I've never even seen anyone in the Order who fights with the kind of rawness and intensity you do. It's a little scary, honestly."
Neville pulled her hand away from his mouth, turning so that he didn't have to look at her. "That's not the same. I'm not me when I fight. It's like something happens," he tapped his chest, "like something starts screaming or roaring or something, and it drowns out everything else and I just lose it."
Ginny came up behind him again, draping herself across his shoulders and placing her hand flat against his chest where he had gestured. "I think that thing is you, Neville. It's who you really are - a brave, powerful wizard, the son of two famous Aurors and a courageous soldier in your own right - and if I'd been cooped up and shoved down and hidden that long under such a heavy load, I'd probably start screaming if I had half a chance to get out too."
He shook his head, not bothering to move her hand this time. "You just don't get it."
"Fine." She tossed her head, swinging the braids behind her, and now her lips were barely an inch from his ear, and her voice held a low, almost savage intensity. "Let's say you're right. That you're worthless. A complete failure as a wizard and as a man. What are you going to do about it?"
Neville was unsure of how to answer this complete turnaround, and he shrugged, half in confusion, half in defiance. "There's nothing to do. I've been trying for years."
"No, you haven't. You've just accepted that it's how things are. Is there any hope for your parents?"
The question caught him off guard. "No. They say there's the faintest chance if LeStrange dies, but even that's thinner than the odds of You-Know-Who just deciding to turn himself in."
"So they gave their sanity - really, their lives - for you. What do you think they would say if she was killed and they did wake up tomorrow? 'Gee, son, we're so glad to see that you've tortured yourself with our gift?' Or maybe, 'How touching to see that they actually broke all three of us?' Or do you think that it might be a little better to be able to say to them: 'You thought I was worth everything, and that love was worth more than what anyone else could say, and I have lived every moment as though you could see me.'"
