Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness, page 61
George dusted off his robes and turned, twirling his wand between his fingers. "So what's the plan, Harry?"
"There isn't one." His forehead was furrowed in pain, but there was such genuine bemusement to his voice that for the first time, Neville began to think that maybe Harry had no more idea what was going on than the rest of them - not just at Hogwarts, but overall. They had all put so much stock in the idea that Dumbledore had set them up with some incredibly brilliant, detailed master scheme that the concept of Harry in this by the seat of his pants was terrifying, and he shook his head, unwilling to believe it.
Fred did not seem the least perturbed, however. "Just going to make it up as we go along, are we?" he said cheerfully. "My favorite kind."
Harry whirled on Neville, and his eyes were wide and pleading, almost childlike in the vulnerability of the pain so clearly visible in them. "You've got to stop this! What did you call them all back for? This is insane -"
Dean still had one arm wrapped around Seamus' shoulders as he pulled the Galleon from his pocket with his free hand. "We're fighting, aren't we? The message said Harry was back, and we were going to fight!" He hesitated, biting his lip and frowning. "I'll have to get a wand, though -"
Seamus looked horrified. "You haven't got a wand - ?
Ron had been exchanging relieved, grateful hugs with the brothers and sister he hadn't seen in so many months, but he suddenly yanked away from the twins, spinning to face Harry with a fiery look of challenge in his eyes. "Why can't they help?" he demanded.
Harry blinked. Clearly, Ron not backing him one hundred percent was about the last thing he could cope with at that moment. "What?"
"They can help," Ron repeated simply. He leaned in and whispered something to his friend, and a look of hesitant acceptance slowly formed on Harry's strained features. Then it tightened to reluctance again, and Hermione was summoned over to the hushed little meeting. Quite the barrage of emotions played over the three faces as they whispered amongst each other, then finally, Harry turned to the rest of them. "Okay...."
Everything fell completely silent. Harry licked his lips nervously, then took a deep breath, "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 come across something with her eagle on it, for instance?"
Neville's heart sank. This was it? Dumbledore's great master plan was uniting Founder's objects after all - something that had been bandied around and discarded by teenagers months ago? He didn't even need to look to know what the answer would be before Luna spoke. "Well, there's her lost diadem. I told you about it, remember, Harry? The lost diadem of Ravenclaw? Daddy's been trying to duplicate it."
"Yeah, but the lost diadem," Michael's voice was heavy with sarcasm, "is lost, Luna. That's sort of the point."
"When was it lost?" Harry asked.
Cho shrugged. "Centuries ago, they say. Professor Flitwick says the diadem vanished with Ravenclaw herself. People have looked, but..." she looked around to the others, hoping to be corrected, "...no one's ever found a trace of it, have they?" Her face sank as all her Housemates shook their heads quietly.
Ron shuffled his feet awkwardly, his cheeks flushing. "Sorry, but...what is a diadem?"
Neville suddenly wanted to beat his head against something very hard. Ron did not know what they were even looking for. A year. Only the three of them. And he did not know what they were looking for. Had Dumbledore gone completely out of his mind in his old age?
Terry seemed to be thinking along much the same lines, and the hollow astonishment in his voice had nothing to do with Ron's vocabulary. "It's a kind of crown," he drew a little circle in the air with the tip of his finger, "Ravenclaw's was supposed to have magical properties, enhance the wisdom of the wearer."
Luna nodded eagerly. "Yes, Daddy's Wrackspurt siphons -"
"--And none of you have ever seen anything that looks like it?" Harry interrupted. Once again, the silent answer was no, but then Cho spoke up rather tentatively.
"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."
The answer did not come immediately, as Harry's eyes rolled again, almost as dramatically as they had the first time, and he swayed on his feet for a moment, his hand clutching to the scar so hard that his fingernails left little red crescents in the skin on either side. Ron and Hermione were at his side in an instant, and another brief, whispered conversation broke out as Harry collected himself.
Ron did not let go of his friend's arm, steadying him as Harry turned carefully towards Cho. "Listen," he said, "I know it's not much of a lead, but I'm going to go and look at this statue, at least find out what the diadem looks like. Wait for me here and keep, you know -" he gave Ron and Hermione a significant look " - the other one safe."
Cho stood, a look of tender sympathy on her face as she saw how much pain Harry truly was in, but Ginny's eyes snapped jealous fire as she hopped off the end of the table where she had been sitting. "No, Luna will take Harry," she grabbed the other girl's sleeve and practically shoved her towards him, "won't you, Luna?"
"Oooh, yes," Luna nodded happily, smiling at Ginny in what seemed to be complete ignorance of the look that had just been exchanged over her head. "I'd like to."
Harry seemed a little steadier on his feet now, and he pushed away Ron's hand as he scanned the room. "How do we get out?"
"Over here," Neville lead them towards the small cupboard where the door was hidden - a further precaution against anyone knowing where their exit was if they managed to get an image of the room through Legilimency - but hesitated before opening it to reveal a steep stone staircase. He recognized it as the exact same maintenance stairs he had used to reach the seventh floor almost a month earlier, and he motioned them at it. "It comes out somewhere different every day, 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."
Harry nodded, and although every instinct told him that the other wizard was in no condition to be doing anything except lying flat on his back, he recognized beneath the pain and confusion a flicker of something else that he had seen in his own too many times that year. The look of someone who had to go on, whether they liked it or not, whether they could or not. The look of someone driven, bowed, and very nearly broken under a burden they had no way to share. His mouth bent up at the corners, but the green eyes showed no sign of humor. "No problem," he nodded, "see you in a bit."
Neville watched them go until they had vanished completely into the shadows and twists of the staircase, and even then he continued to stand there. His whole body felt suddenly almost unbearably heavy, and his ankle continuing to throb a steady reminder to have it seen to as he rested his forehead on his arm against the edge of the cupboard. This was not how he had imagined things, this was not how he had planned things, and he no longer even knew if he was still in charge or not. Was it Harry now? Was it meant to be Harry? Could it be Harry, whether it was supposed to be or not?
Silence lingered behind Harry's departure, the entire D.A., old and new, waiting like one great, held breath, and then Seamus' voice carried over the stillness with all the tact he had ever been known for. "So, Ron, we've a fair lot of catchin' up to do...but what I guess we'd all like to know is has Potter been hurt, has he gone mental, is he goin' that way, or has he just turned into a truly fantastic arse?"
Ron let out a roar of outrage and flung himself towards Seamus, but Hermione and Dean were both faster, and two rock-solid Shield Charms sprang up between the two wizards, shimmering as they slammed into the invisible barrier. Neville snapped out of his contemplation, his cheeks flushing as he ran over and grabbed his Lieutenant furiously by the arm. "FINNIGAN! Are you out of your -"
"He's right!" Michael stood, his own dark eyes fixed on Ron behind the shield as he took up a position by Seamus' side, his chin thrust out defiantly. "We've been -"
"Harry doesn't know what we've been doing, and we don't know what he's been doing, and no one - " Neville stared with all the authority he could muster at Ron, Michael, and Seamus in turn, " - has any right to say they've had a better or worse year than the other, or to pretend like we know what's going on yet."
He took a deep breath, looking squarely at Ron. "Look, mate, I don't mean to be rude here, or to minimize what you three have been doing, but we're not the D.A. you remember. We're soldiers now, real soldiers, and we're ready to fight if it would help Harry. Ready to fight, and ready to die, and there's a lot more of us than what you see here. Close to eighty, actually, and we've got allies on the outside too. We had planned to hold the Death Eaters for you while you got close enough to You-Know-Who to do...well, whatever it is you're clearly planning to do with him with whatever it is you're planning to do it with."
Ron was still glaring suspiciously at the others, but he gave a curt nod. "I'm not in charge here, but I think it'd be a lot easier if we had some help rather than just trying to...." He hesitated, then shrugged. "Actually, I don't know how Harry thought he'd get up on him. We hadn't really gotten that far."
"We have," Ernie said firmly. "We've got all kind of strategies, depending on how he deploys his forces. He's got around a hundred on his side, so -"
He was cut off by a deep, smooth voice as Kingsley Shacklebolt climbed out through the portrait. "His numbers have grown, Mr. Macmillan. There are nearly three hundred Death Eaters at his command now, and you can also expect his allies...he has joined forces with the werewolves and giants, and they are on their way."
Terry said something truly foul, and a dozen heads snapped in his direction in surprise. The Ravenclaw shrugged unashamedly. "Sometimes, those words are the most appropriate, and I personally can't think of a better way to express how unbelievably deep in it we appear to be."
Neville could not have agreed more, but he kept his voice steady as he turned to Shacklebolt. "We can find a way to deal with that, Kingsley, thanks for the warning. How many Order are coming with you?"
A look of deep grief passed over the darkly regal features. "The Weasleys - Arthur, Molly, Bill, Fleur, and Charlie when he can get here from the continent. The Lupins. Possibly Doge."
Ernie frowned, "The rest won't come? Why?"
"Apart from Diggle and Jones, who are guarding the Dursleys, there is no 'rest'. They've been hunting us all year after Snape passed on the list of who had been in the Order. They've taken us down one at a time, but the ten I just named to you and myself are all that remains," Shacklebolt confessed sadly.
Neville nodded, trying to look like this was no big deal, like he had included it in the contengency plans that seemed increasingly useless by the moment. "All right. But we still have Wood and his Quidditch people coming...and actually...." His eyes widened as a sudden, breathless hope struck him, and he spun to face Ginny. "You're into Quidditch, Ginny - how much will people listen to a pro player they really like?"
It was Ron who answered, laughing bemusedly. "Enough that they usually make more money on endorsements than actually sitting a broom."
"Then we use their speed and their names for some endorsements of our own. Sacrifice having a dozen wands in the short term to send them on an all-out recruitment drive for reinforcements. Charlie too, see if he can bring us anyone from Europe while he's on the way." Neville spoke quickly, letting the idea spill out even as it formed. "Tell people that it's now, that we're making our stand, that Harry's back, play the guilt card if we have to by telling them that it's happening at a school full of kids, whatever we need to do. Hit the big wizarding towns...Hogsmeade, London, Godric's Hollow, Mold-on-the-Wall, Ottery St. Catchpole. Even if we can't get trained soldiers, we can get numbers."
Ginny looked hesitant. "They wouldn't get here for hours, though."
"We don't know how long Harry will -" Neville began, but Ron shook his head.
"Not hours. We'll be damned lucky if we've got one hour before he's here. Harry knows, he can -"
"See into his mind, we know," Dean said, then glanced at Shacklebolt. "What do you think?"
"I agree with Neville that anything we can do for reinforcements is our best hope. If you do have the aide of professional Quidditch players -"
"Did someone say the lovely word Quidditch?" Oliver Wood emerged from the portrait, his hair ruffled and longer than Neville remembered, wearing jeans and Quidditch boots under the bright blue robes of Puddlemere United, a sleek broomstick exactly like the one Krum had used propped casually against his shoulder. He grinned as he saw them, though his eyes scanned across the athletes as though they were the only ones in the room. "Fred! George! Macmillan! Chang! Corner! You're all in this too, then? Any idea what's going on? What did Harry get from Gringotts, if it's true?"
"The Sword of Gryffindor," Michael announced. "And he's -"
Hermione cleared her throat loudly and raised her hand, the gesture so familiar that Neville almost laughed, and he wondered if she would ever break the habit when she wanted to say something in a group setting. He pointed to her with a teasing smile. "Miss Granger wants to add something, I believe."
"We don't have the Sword," she informed them. "That's not what we were in there to get, anyway. I can't tell you what we were after, but we actually lost the Sword at Gringotts."
"Which," Ron pointed out to her, "is something we're going to need to replace."
"Oh, yes, Ronald," Hermione put one hand on her hip, tossing her hair, "What was it you suggested? Let's just get one of our other ancient, goblin-made swords that just happens to be impregnated with basilisk -?"
Ron made a terrible noise. Harsh and rasping, it sounded as though he were choking to death on an immense wad of phlegm, and everyone surrounding him drew back with abrupt expressions of shock and disgust on their faces. Yet he did not seem in distress at all. If anything, he looked almost radiant, his freckled face split in a broad grin as he grabbed Hermione by both shoulders. For a moment, everyone fully expected him to kiss her, but he only gave her a little shake and laughed.
She was looking at him very, very warily. "Ron...?"
"That's just what we need! Come on! We're going to the bathroom!" Before she could put up a proper resistance, Ron had Hermione hard by the wrist and was dragging her through the scattered members of the D.A. to the stairway where Harry and Luna had left.
Ginny tried to shout after them, but it was too late. Before anyone really had a chance to recognize what had happened, Harry's friends were gone, and several dozen people turned expectantly towards Fred and George, as though they could explain their brother's bizarre behavior, but Fred only shrugged, then nodded his head towards Seamus. "I'm starting to go with Finnigan on Harry being mental...and I think it's contagious."
OOO
The rest of Wood's old Quidditch team was already on their way in the passage behind him, but he had agreed quickly to send word to his fellow pros to change plans and begin recruiting reinforcements. As the remainder of the Order arrived, Neville showed Shacklebolt the preparations he had made, the truth of his claims underlined strongly by the D.A.'s own actions. They were checking wands, stretching, scrawling final entries into journals and postscripts onto last letters, stripping off outer robes and rolling up sleeves, belts cinched snugly and long hair braided back with a cool, professional efficiency that showed no signs of adolescent panic.
Ernie had already sent Susan on her way down the passage, a bundle of the D.A.'s gifts and letters clutched tightly in her hands, but the heart-stopping loss that had struck his expression when the door swung shut behind her was gone now. He seemed if anything more focused than the rest of them, and he had stripped away Sally-Anne's shoelaces, sealing the leather together with magic to eliminate the need for anything that could come undone. Neville crossed to his friend as he finished with Shacklebolt, laying one hand on the broad back. "Ernie...."
He looked up, one fair eyebrow lifting. "Do you need something, old chap?"
Neville shook his head. "I just wanted to thank you for staying. You didn't have to, you know."
"Yes, I did," the hazel eyes were as resolute as they were the first time he had truly realized his friend's deeper, non-physical strength on the wall so many months ago. "I thought about going with her, I'll be honest, especially after what Shacklebolt said about the odds, but I could never look my daughter in the eyes if I had to tell her I'd run out on you guys when you need every wand you can get."
Neville knelt down beside him, squeezing Ernie's shoulder firmly. "Just take care of yourself, okay? Watch your back, don't do anything stupid. And that's not just for Susan and the baby. I've gotten pretty fond of you too, Macmillan."
"I'd say the same, but you're Gryffindor, so I don't think it's going to happen," Ernie smiled, then quickly amended himself. "Oh, not that I'm not fond of you. Happen to have come to consider you one of my best friends this year, but I meant about not doing anything stupid."
"No," Neville admitted, "It's not likely I'll be able to keep away from that. But will you do me a favor?"
"Of course."
"If we wound up getting split by House for any reason, keep an eye on Hannah for me." Ernie nodded in solemn understanding, and they hugged quickly before splitting up again to finish their preparations, but at the last minute, Neville stopped and turned back. "Oh, and Ernie...."
"Yes?"
"Make sure she has something to throw." He chuckled softly, reaching into his pocket and fingering the single yellow hair-ribbon he had never confessed to having kept. "That girl doesn't miss."
Ernie laughed, but his reply was cut short as Harry's voice echoed through the room, and they all whirled immediately to see him standing by the door, his black hair even more disheveled than usual. "Voldemort's on his way, they're barricading the school - Snape's run for it -" He frowned, looking at Lupin in bemusement. "What are you doing here? How did you know?
