Trading Shadows

Life was filled with shadows for Neville Longbottom. Like a Rememberall, his own memory clouded over when he tried to recall important dates for a History test, or the name of the Charm he needed for a particular spell to work.

It was always a laugh when he couldn't remember what he'd forgotten, but he was learning what happened when forgetfulness was unforgivable. When what he'd forgotten was more than a date or a name, but a person. His first friend... just a malignant shadow.

"Luna? Are you all right?" Neville called over his shoulder, searching the corridor for the blur he'd seen through the shadow of light.

Neville had spent his entire life overshadowed by others.

Before entering Hogwarts, he'd been overwhelmed by his neighbour, Theo Nott, who no one ever thought was a Squib. Sure, Theo was short and skinny, and if Neville had been the sort he could have bullied him, but Theo's family never had to worry about potential careers for a Pureblooded Squib. Neville had never been jealous of Theo, seeing all the pressure his Pureblood family placed on him, the guilt to live up to the family name. But one bright day, Neville had bounced down the road and Theo had run after him, screaming with joy. Soon, Neville knew the guilt of not upholding the family honour, and he could do without it.

Once he entered Hogwarts, everyone immediately overshadowed Neville. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived; Ron Weasley, who ironically thought himself to be overshadowed; Dean Thomas, with his artwork and his talent at letting Snape's barbs roll off his shoulders; Seamus Finnegan, who was funny and rude and dated the prettiest girls in the year. There were others who overshadowed Neville, but really, it was embarrassing to think about.

The only one who hadn't overshadowed Neville once they reached Hogwarts was Theo Nott. Theo, aloof and quiet, had not suited Slytherin. It was almost unfair. Of course, the Sorting Hat knew what it was doing- after all, Neville hadn't thought he'd be a Gryffindor, but it seemed that he might have a bit of courage in him after all. But Theo had belonged in Ravenclaw, where students were allowed to study, and where ambition for top grades was the only ambition that mattered. In Ravenclaw, the witty students would appreciate Theo's dry sense of humour, and not stare at him blankly as Crabbe and Goyle must when he mocked a professor.

"Luna?" Neville shouted, unable to turn or rush to her side. He could see the shadow now, and it was, as he'd thought, Theo Nott.

But it was a fact of life at Hogwarts: the Sorting Hat placed you in the House that you needed to be in to become the person you could become. Perhaps the Hat had seen the spark of courage in Neville and thought that Hufflepuff would keep it buried. Perhaps Theo had a spark of cunning that Ravenclaw would have wasted. Perhaps Theo had truly wished to go to Slytherin. Perhaps he enjoyed the scheming politics and endless dramas of the Slytherin dungeons and would have found the Ravenclaw Turret tedious with its laughter and scribbles.

For the first year of Hogwarts, Neville and Theo had partnered in a few lessons, they spoke when they saw each other in the corridors, and they sometimes would study in the Library together. That first summer, though, Theo's mother had died, and he had gone to stay with family in London. Ever since then, Neville and Theo had not spoken. It was as if their eyes slide away from each other.

Whatever the boys had been as children had ended irrevocably the night of the battle at the Department of Mysteries. Harry had already named Theo's father as a Death Eater; it hadn't surprised Neville when the Quibbler came out with Skeeter's article. What had surprised Neville was how odd Theo looked after the article was published.

"He must be really upset," Neville had told Dean in a quiet aside. "He's got a bad case of acne."

Dean had looked at Neville oddly, an eyebrow raised. "Neville, that ones been spotty for years," he had said. Pulling out a sketchbook and, tapping his wand to the cover, Dean showed Neville a picture dated three years earlier. Theo's acne was clearly visible between the shadowed planes of his younger face.

And now, at the end of their seventh-year, they faced, their eyes intent on each other, Neville's brown eyes narrowed against Theo's blue. Almost men, their chins and jaws scratched with the silhouette of a beard. Theo was small still, which explained how Neville and Luna had passed the statue without noticing him.

"Should have aimed for me, Nott," Neville admonished as he felt his eyes turn cold. "I thought you Slytherins were known for your scheming?"

"Don't pretend you would remember anything like strategy," Theo said. His voice was high and reed-thin, and Neville laughed, his chuckle much lower and strident than Nott's.

"Shut it, Longbottom," Theo shouted, shaking his wand with explosive strength. Foggy red light shot from the tip and Neville rammed into the corridor wall to avoid the jet. "What? Not going to play? I thought you Gryffindors were known for you courage?" This last mocking question ended with a shrill cry as Neville threw himself at Nott. One blow by his clenched fist sent Nott sprawling into the very statue he had hid behind.

Neville, seeing a chance, rushed to Luna to check her injuries. His eyes watchful of Theo as he groaned dazedly, shaking his head to clear the mist, Neville performed a quick Charm to staunch a bad head wound, and stood.

Staying to the centre of the corridor, Neville ambled toward the smaller boy as he gained his feet. He could see the calculating glint of steel run through his opponent's body, but had no fear. He may be forgetful, but he wasn't as thick as he let on. He had to avoid panic- his magic went haywire when he panicked- but he knew he was more powerful, more potent, than Nott.

"Forgotten how to use that wand, have you, Longbottom?" Nott asked, his voice a bit weaker than before. His own wand was drawn and tightly clenched, contrasting the light, lazy grip Neville had.

In fact, Neville knew a great deal about strategy. One must, if one was to play Chess against Ron Weasley. He also knew a great deal about Dueling. One must, if one was to survive as a friend of Harry Potter's.

Concentrate...

"Damn you, engage!" Nott roared as Neville continued walking toward the boy, well closer than regulation Dueling distant. "Stand ready, and let this be finished!"

"Finish what exactly, Nott?" Neville asked. "What have we to decide, here, tonight?" He stopped advancing on Theo, and stood still, waiting. "There isn't anything between us any longer."

"The hell there isn't!" Theo shouted. "Our battle's been brewing almost as long as the one we're supposed to be fighting, and you know it!"

Probably, Neville thought, but for the life of him, he couldn't think what they had to fight about. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"There you go again, playing the weak fool!" Theo continued to shout. Bits of spittle flew from his mouth and landed near Neville's feet. "But you're not, and we're the only ones who know that."

"Keep shouting like that, and everyone will know, won't they?" Neville answered. "Let's just finish this, as you suggested," he said, raising his wand, wary of gaining the attention of the Death Eaters roving the Hogwarts corridors.

But Theo wasn't finished yet.

"They never saw you as a threat! Over and over I'd tell them that it was you we had to worry about, but no! They thought Potter was the threat to the Purebloods. Or the damn Weasley's, blood traitors, the lot of them. Maybe Granger was the threat, so proud of herself, so powerful, Mudblood or not! They never saw you, forgetful Neville Longbottom, as the threat," Theo said, his voice regaining its strength.

"Well, why should they see me as a threat? They're all better than me," Neville answered. His wand was ready and his hand itched to use it, now, quickly, before Theo could say what was coming next.

But he didn't attack, couldn't attack; he wanted to hear someone else say it. More, he just wanted it said aloud, even if it was only he and Theo who would hear it.

"You don't want to be a Wizard!" As Theo said it, Neville's heart stopped and then started again painfully. "Its as if you're ashamed of being a Wizard, as if you would rather be a Muggle and out of our world!"

"And? Even if that were true," which it was, "what would be the matter with that? Honestly, do you want this?" Neville's arms swept the corridor, where Luna was shivering and shaking, Neville's quick Charm staunching the flow of blood. Theo's own face was streaked with blood and sweat and a bruise was lifting from his eye. "This is stupid, Nott! There isn't a point to this!"

"Yes there is," Theo said firmly, spittle flying again. "This is about our culture, Longbottom. Our legacy, as Purebloods. The legacy you don't want!"

"The legacy I don't need!" Neville shot back. "It's that damn legacy that's got you here, ready to kill me. That's got grown-ups running around a school, trying to kill children. Why?"

Theo was silent a moment, staring at Neville. A look of resignation came slowly to his face, and his wand began to lower incrementally. He looked like he might cry. And then his eyes narrowed and his wand snapped back to attention. "Clever, Longbottom. You almost had me.

"You didn't want anyone to notice you, to see how powerful you really were. A misplaced spell of yours does more damage than anything I can manage."

"Then, for Circe's Sake, why are you trying to fight me, Nott?" Neville demanded.

"Because, you are more dangerous, more damaging, then a thousand Harry Potters. A thousand blood traitors. A thousand Mudbloods." Theo drew his wand back to his shoulder. "You are Neville Longbottom." With that, he let his curse fly.

Neville set a simple shield to the curses Theo sent to him, again and again. Jelly-Legs and Sectumsempra and Petrificus Totalus. Neville simply blocked them. Finally, when he could see Theo weakening, tiring from all the magic he was wasting, Neville disarmed him.

"Expelliarmus!" he said, stabbing his wand in Theo's direction. The sudden change in tactic caught the smaller boy in mid-cast, and his wand flew over Neville's head and clattered to the floor.

The two boys glared at each other for a long moment. Neville could feel the next step, could see the necessity for it in Theo's eyes. He was fanatical and fevered, and nothing would end it.

"Going to kill me, Neville?" Theo asked, his voice filled with defiance but betrayed by his use of Neville's name. "Going to kill someone who is proud to be a Wizard?"

Life in Azkaban was promised to anyone supporting Lord Voldemort. Theo was still spotty, his voice was still high. How could Neville condemn him to life in Azkaban prison, where soon the Dementors would return and suck all happy memories from his mind?

Like the day I bounced down the road... No matter how he wished, now, that he had been a Squib, he couldn't forget the joy of that day.

"Well, do something, for Merlin's Sake!" Theo shouted. His eyes were wide, murky, and so young... Neville thought about how young they really were.

"Go, Nott. You're right; I shouldn't be a wizard, but I am. I won't be a murderer on top of that," he said.

The skepticism in Theo's eyes was obvious and he didn't move.

"I said go!" Neville shouted. He lunged forward and grabbed Theo about the shoulders. Violently, he threw him towards the dark exit. "Go now, and I won't say a word."

Theo tripped as Neville pushed him, falling to the ground. Snatching his wand from where it lay, he began to run out of the corridor.

Neville turned his back to the sight of his first friend. It wasn't until he heard Theo's footsteps slow, then stop, that he remembered Luna was lying helpless near the end of the corridor. Spinning, Neville had his wand at ready as he heard the spell-

"Avada-" Theo's wand was trained not on Luna, but on Neville. "Kev-"

"Avada Kedavra!" a faster, lighter voice shouted, and green light erupted from Luna's wand, ripping through Theo's body.

After a moment she got weakly to her feet, leaning against the corridor wall, her shadow overlapping with the spluttering lamps to hide Theo's body.