Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness, page 62
"We sent messages to the rest of Dumbledore's Army," Fred replied hastily. "You couldn't expect everyone to miss all the fun, Harry, and the D.A. let the Order of the Phoenix know, and it all kind of snowballed."
"What first, Harry?" George yelled over the crowd that had gathered around Harry, standing up on the tips of his toes and craning his neck to see the younger wizard. "What's going on?"
"They're evacuating the younger kids and everyone's meeting in the Great Hall to get organized." Harry took a deep breath, and he looked as though he could not believe his own words as he smiled at them and said the words they had been waiting to hear come out of that mouth for nearly a year. "We're fighting."
Neville and Ernie exchanged a heartbeat's look of pure adrenaline, then they snatched their wands from their belts and charged forward, gathering their own fighters and surging out the narrow door and down the stairs as if You-Know-Who himself would be personally waiting at the foot of them. Terry was at their side the moment they erupted into the corridor, his dark blue eyes flashing. "Where do we deploy?"
"Great Hall for now. We get the rest of our forces, hook back up with Colin, Jennifer, and Rowan, check with the teachers to see what exactly they know of what we're facing, then set our final decisions with Kingsley and the other Order. You two stay ready, though...and find Seamus. I need my officers!"
"He thought Ginny -" Terry began, but Neville cut him off with a shake of his head as they continued to run down the stairs and hallways towards the heart of the school.
"No time to update Ginny. Seamus is current, Gryffindor's his. Let him know...COLIN!" Their path had taken them into the middle of a stream of students in pajamas and odd assortments of hastily-grabbed cloaks and robes who were being shepherded down the stairs as well, and Neville raised an arm, waving to catch the attention of the fair-haired young wizard he had spotted briefly.
There was a moment's more confusion, then Colin appeared, his face flushed, but his blue eyes shining with an excitement that bore little resemblance to the puppyish enthusiasm he had once been known for. "Commander!" He thrust out a hand, pulling the firm but still eerily cold handshake into a brief, back-clapping embrace, then nodded towards the other Gryffindors, who were offering their own shouts of greeting as they hurried past. "We're ready, sir. We may have been caught in pajamas, but we've been keeping up with training and spellwork in our rooms, and no one's lost faith. I've got Frobisher with an upset stomach and Coote's going to need some watching because he got Cruciated hard today, but everyone else is ready to report for duty."
"What about you?" Neville asked, glancing at the dark swelling that rimmed one bright eye. "What happened?"
"Honestly, sir?" Colin laughed. "I did it to myself. Got something in my eye and forgot I can't feel what I'm doing. Damned near blinded myself, but I'm fine now." He hesitated, blushing a little. "Don't tell Demelza, though. I haven't told her how it happened, and I'm just letting her assume it was brave."
"Ah, the little lies of love," Terry pointed ahead to where the entry way stretched at the end of the last staircase in front of them, already packed with students being hurried into the Great Hall. "See you again at the final planning session, victory party, or afterlife of your choice as the case may be. I'll be with Ravenclaw."
Ernie split off as well, and Neville stayed with Colin, casting around in increasing concern as he tried to catch sight of Ginny's bright red hair or Seamus' sandy waves as they made their way into the Hall and took their seats at the Gryffindor table. The older students who had been gone were still being greeted enthusiastically, and it took a few moments for Professor McGonagall, who was standing in front of the Staff Table in her own tartan dressing gown, to quiet them.
When finally the last of the whispers had died down, she looked over them sternly, but though her voice brooked no argument, he could see some of the excitement and joy that he felt himself at the thought of just ending it one way or another sparkling in her eyes. "Harry Potter has returned -"
She was cut off by a roar of cheers and whoops as everyone at the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables - even those who had already seen, touched, and talked to him - leapt to their feet, stamping and clapping. McGonagall smiled briefly, nodding, then flicked her wand, silencing them. Within a moment of realizing that they were no longer making noise, the students all settled again, turning to face her attentively. The Professor cleared her throat, then began again.
"Harry Potter has returned, however, as delighted as we all may be by this news, it has put this school in grave danger. We are expecting an attack by You-Know-Who and his followers within the hour, and we do not believe that he will be particularly concerned with the welfare of the students. As teachers, your safety is our first priority, and so we will be evacuating the school through a route that will lead you into the village of Hogsmeade, where you will be taken in by some of the shopkeepers and homeowners who have volunteered to shelter you until more is known. You will behave as perfect young ladies and gentlemen in these people's homes and businesses, and I will hear of no foolish attempts to come and join the battle."
Neville and Colin stared at each other in disbelief. They couldn't be...she wasn't...after everything, they were supposed to just tuck their tails between their legs and leave just over two dozen teachers and Order members to take on the entirety of You-Know-Who's force? He shook his head, gesturing to keep Colin from leaping to his feet. "She's not done," he whispered under his breath. "She must just mean the younger ones. We were planning to get them out too, remember."
"The evacuation," Professor McGonagall continued, "will be overseen by Mr. Filch and Madam Pomfrey. Prefects, when I give the word, you will organize your House and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point."
"And what if we want to stay and fight?" Ernie was on his feet, his wand drawn, and his voice rang strongly off the stone walls. It seemed ridiculous that anyone could oppose him, could attempt to call him a child or claim he needed to be protected, and Neville said a silent prayer of thanks that the burly Hufflepuff had been the one to challenge her, not someone like Colin or Padma who's strength was less obvious.
The D.A. applauded, and McGonagall hesitated a long moment before finally nodding. "If you are of age, you may stay."
Colin's shoulders tensed, he began to jump to his feet, but Neville grabbed a handful of the back of his pajamas and yanked him firmly back down again. "Not now," he hissed, then glanced along the length of the Gryffindor table at the shocked faces of the fourth, fifth, and sixth-years staring back at him. "First of all," he dropped his voice to a low whisper as one of the Ravenclaw girls asked about their belongings, "there are still Slytherins here. We don't know if she's trying to plant false information about our numbers...it's what I'd do. Second, if she's serious, I'll argue it for you, I swear. I know you can fight. I believe in you, and damned if we aren't going to need every wand we can get."
"Where's Professor Snape?" Daphne Greengrass' sharp, piercing voice sounded from the Slytherin table, and McGonagall smiled as broadly as Neville had ever seen her.
"He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk."
A cheer louder than the first broke out through the hall, and in their delight at finally being rid of the loathed Headmaster - though Neville was quite certain they'd be facing him again soon enough with the rest of the Death Eaters - he almost didn't notice that Harry was walking up the length of their table, scanning the seats as if searching for something.
He wasn't the only one to have noticed. The cheers were subsiding quickly, replaced by whispers of astonishment from those who hadn't seen Harry in person yet, and Neville cast a nervous glance towards Colin as Harry passed directly behind him, the sleeve of his robe actually brushing the golden hair. To his relief, Colin was not suddenly struck down by mindless hero-worship, and his angelic face showed no more delight and excitement at seeing the Chosen One than anyone else around him.
Ignoring the small commotion Harry's arrival had caused, McGonagall continued tersely. "We have already placed protection around the castle, but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your Prefects -"
She was cut off by another voice. High and cold, it echoed from every surface as though the castle itself was speaking, and though he had never heard it before, Neville knew instantly and terribly who it had to be. Voldemort. "I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me."
There were several gasps at the chilling, even pleasant confidence in the tone of the most feared dark wizard alive, and somewhere in the room, a witch screamed, but either their response could not be heard, or he did not care as the announcement went on. "I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."
A long, breathless pause followed this obscenely ridiculous lie, and then the final ultimatum was released. "Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."
Chapter 21: The Battle of Hogwarts
"Twenty-nine of age students! Nine teachers! Eight Order! Eight from the first D.A.! That's fifty-four! Fifty-four against more than three hundred...fifty-seven if you want to throw in Harry, Ron, and Hermione. That's suicide!" Neville slammed his hand down hard on the table, his voice shaking with rage as he looked across into McGonagall's implacably stony face. He spun towards Shacklebolt, pleading now. "I could double that, sir! I can give you another fifty trained wands! We'd still be tight, but there'd be a chance at least! Let me call my soldiers back from Hogsmeade, please!"
"Mr. Longbottom, they are not yours, and they are not soldiers." McGonagall's voice was icy, and any other time, he would have heeded the note of warning there, but right now, Neville couldn't have cared less. "They are my students," she continued, "and while I am aware that you have taken your little rebellion very seriously this year, and I am not disrespectful of the effort and sacrifices - "
"We are soldiers! It's only been a little rebellion on the surface," his voice choked with bitter frustration, and to his own fury, he realized he was on the edge of tears. "We've trained so hard, they're ready, I swear to you...Romilda took me down in our last meeting before I had to run! Colin held his own with Terry for almost twenty minutes hard dueling! Orla...."
He trailed off as Mr. Weasley put one hand on his shoulder, his voice kind but his eyes hard. "We've listened to your arguments twice now, Neville. We've been more than fair, but the answer is no. We're allowing you and the other seventeen and eighteen year-olds to stay, but that is the final word, and if you continue wasting the very little time we have with these kinds of tantrums, we're going to have to reconsider whether the rest of you are level-headed enough to stay."
"I don't like the idea of any of the children staying," Mrs. Weasley shook her head, frowning deeply. "They're going to be dueling to kill."
"Those children," Professor Sprout shook her head, "have been through hell this year, Molly. You haven't seen what we've been forced to sit by and watch done to them. The Cruciatus Curse a dozen times a week, torture, floggings that peeled those boy's backs like daisy roots. I understand why they believe that they have the ability - even the right - to fight tonight, for revenge if nothing else, but if I'm correct, Minerva, you also feel that this is the one chance we have had all year to actually protect our charges. To not watch helplessly while the Death Eaters spill young blood all over this castle."
"Precisely, Pomona, I could not have put it better," McGonagall agreed, and there was an awful compassion in her eyes as she looked at Neville. "We have no doubts about your bravery or your toughness, Mr. Longbottom, nor that of your friends, but this is going to be a suicide stand, and basic ethical obligation means that we must demand that this be a choice made by adults, even if barely defined as such."
"I have seen what Neville has done with the older students," Shacklebolt said slowly, steepling his fingers under his chin as he leaned back in his chair at the Staff Table in the now-deserted Great Hall. "I am willing to agree that they are at least on the level of our younger Aurors such as Nymphadora. However, I also cannot accept the idea of children as young as fourteen in open combat the way he would propose. The decision stands. You may inform your officers, Mr. Longbottom."
The conciliatory use of the term 'officers' did not escape Neville, and he bit back the retort that had been on the tip of his tongue, recognizing at the last moment that it was not only useless, but that he was about to seriously jeopardize the rest of their ability to stay in it as well. His shoulders slumped, and he forced his tone to be one of respectful obedience as he nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Now," McGonagall tapped the tabletop with her wand, and thin strands of black ink began to spread from the spot, lacing like a spiderweb to form a diagram of the school. "With that little matter resolved, let us address the matter of distribution. "We will be splitting into eight divisions. Three to the towers, three on the grounds, one divided among the secret passages, and one at the front doors. Pomona, you will -"
"Ten." Neville interrupted, crossing his arms as he sat back down.
"Ten?" McGonagall's lips pressed together thinly, her voice tight.
"The big ground-floor windows in the Great Hall...those are serious weaknesses in our defenses. And we need another team as a swing division, put them on broomsticks for speed; they go wherever they're needed most desperately at the moment, wherever the attacks are coming hardest, and they act as runners for messages when needed." He nodded at the diagram, then raised his chin almost belligerently. "We've been preparing this for months."
There was an awkward silence, then McGonagall nodded calmly. "Nine, then, but we'll enlarge your swing division and meld it with the one for the passages so that we aren't wasting fighters on tunnels that aren't being used. Have we found Miss Granger and your son, Arthur?"
"Not yet," Mr. Weasley admitted with a worried glance at his wife. "Let's cut their numbers for now...we can take them from the tower positions, since those will be the easiest to hold with the least."
"Arthur, Remus, and I will need the strongest duelers you have, Neville," Shacklebolt said. There's the least cover on the grounds, and that's where they'll be breaking through first at the wall. We'll want to keep them back from the castle as long as we can, and also hold them where the teams on the tower can snipe spells at them from above."
"I'll go myself, then," he replied quickly, then counted off on his fingers. "You should take Parvati, Anthony, Stewart, Wayne, and Seamus for the grounds, too. Hannah, Michael, Lavender, and Terry for swing. Ernie's strength is defense - he won't budge from a post no matter what. Put him on the front doors, and he'll hold them shut if he has to. Perseus, Derek and Chris with him too. Li, Luna, Demelza, Gwen, Andrew, Padma, and Jack on towers...Lisa, Morag, Sally-Anne, Hal, Stephen, Mandy, Ryan, and Megan are versatile enough to go wherever you want. I don't really know with Dean, but don't put him with Seamus, it'll be too much distraction."
"All right." Mr. Weasley stood, pushing his spectacles back up on his nose as he nodded his head towards the doors. "We have twenty minutes to get into position. Remus, you take the edge by the forest...I hate to do it to you, but -"
"If he really does have the werewolves, they'll be coming that way, and I know more what we're up against with them, of course." There was no offense in his eyes, and he drew his wand, pulling out a small handkerchief and making absolutely sure that the smooth wood was clean and free from splinters or little snags that could throw a spell off-course. "Neville, of the ones you said -?"
"Seamus, Wayne, and Morag for raw guts. They won't blink at werewolves or anything else you throw at them." He stood, shaking Lupin's hand with a dark smile. "Before we die, though, I never really thanked you properly for saving my life. You make a good double-agent, Professor Lupin, I really thought you were going to eat us."
He laughed, and it was still a rather harsh, barking sound, but there was nothing frightening about it now. "Why, Neville, I told all of you the first day that I've never eaten a student!"
"Yeah," Neville nodded, "We just didn't know that was something that took deliberate action on your part...though if you've ever wanted to try it off-moon...."
Lupin's face darkened, and something of the wolf shimmered through the golden brown eyes. "I won't be watching the calendar if Greyback and I cross paths tonight, if that's what you mean." He nodded once more. "Good luck, Neville. I'll tell your people you've sent them with me."
Neville glanced at his watch as Lupin left, then turned back to the others, who were quickly going over details with one another, marking down names on scraps of parchment, and discussing means of protection that were really more intimidatingly complex spellwork than Neville had ever even heard of. Even Sprout, whom he had never thought of as a fighter, was planning to put a line of vicious plants at the western edge of the grounds to reduce the area they had to defend, and there was a vindictive hunger in her eyes as she explained exactly what a patch of East Indian Garroting Grass could do to a Death Eater.
He hung back a moment, uncertain, then Shacklebolt shook hands with McGonagall and stepped away from the table, jabbing one thick finger towards the younger wizard as he strode towards the doors with a long, surprisingly graceful stride reminiscent of a panther stalking its prey. "Longbottom...you wanted to come with me."
"But my -" he protested, and Shacklebolt shook his head.
"You gave us what we needed. We have minutes only. The others will take the students you assigned them, we will take ours, and our post will be the front gates," he glanced back over his shoulder with a smile that flashed brilliant white. "Which means we shall be seeing action first."
