The Mark of Courage

The Mark of Courage

Chapter One

The water was cold, shockingly so despite the summer heat. It cut off his wail in mid-shout, choked off as the waters closed over his head. He flailed wildly and finally managed to surface for a brief moment, gasping, before the dark water claimed him again.

"Go on, you can do it!" he heard someone shout as he surfaced once more. "It's simple, really...oh, blast, he's sinking again...."

Still flailing, the boy struggled to reach the surface once more, arms thrashing and legs churning. He tried to shout, but water poured into his mouth, pushing out the air in wildly dancing bubbles that raced effortlessly to the water's roiling surface.

Finally, at long last, a hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck....

"Wake up, Neville, you're dreaming again," he heard a crisp voice say. "We're going to be late."

The boy opened his eyes with a start, and once more he was in his bedroom, safe and sound, not on the verge of drowning off the pier in Blackpool, where his Great-Uncle Algie had tossed him when he was six and the family had begun wondering if they had a potential Squib in their midst.

Turning his head, he caught a glimpse of Gran sweeping from his room, her posture stiffly erect as always. "Breakfast is in fifteen minutes," she said over her shoulder. "Now hurry up, or else you'll miss your train."

Train....damn; he'd forgotten that it was September first, and that another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would soon be under way. The last vestiges of the dream slipped away; and Neville Longbottom got out of bed, yawning. He hurried into the pair of jeans and polo shirt Gran had laid out for him, undoubtedly with extreme distaste. She might believe that Muggle clothing had no style at all, but showing up at King's Cross station in wizard robes tended to raise unwanted attention. He combed his hair and paused, looking into the mirror.

He had grown over the summer, and was finally showing signs of losing his childhood pudginess, though traces of baby fat still showed in his round face. He would never be tall though, unlike his Gryffindor classmates Ron Weasley or Dean Thomas, both of whom seemed to get longer and lankier by the hour, nor would he ever have the wiry build of Harry Potter or the lean muscularity of Seamus Finnigan. He would always be shorter than other boys his age, and sweets would always be his enemy.

Still, he had dark hair like silk and deep brown eyes, and a pleasant, though unremarkable face. Unremarkable wasn't bad; at least he didn't look like a pug dog like Pansy Parkinson, or have the impossibly long nose of Professor Snape.

He grimaced. He loved school, but the thought of yet another year with the most evil-tempered Potions instructor in the history of Hogwarts sent shivers through his spine and made his stomach turn. Outside of class he could whip up a potion as well as any of his fellow students, but something about Snape completely unnerved him. Whether it was the long nose, the greasy hair, the voice that could be a mesmerizing whisper one moment and cut like a lash the next, or perhaps the constant ridicule of any student who didn't belong to Slytherin - whatever it was, it made many of his hours sheer hell.

"Neville! Come downstairs and eat!" Gran's voice shot upstairs into the room with arrow sharpness. "Do you want to be late?"

"Coming, Gran!" He gave his hair one last swipe with his comb and went downstairs.

He ate quickly. Now that the first day of term had arrived, he found himself looking forward to his sixth year with something akin to excitement, rather than the queasy nervousness encountered in previous years. Swallowing his last bite of bacon, he asked for and was granted permission to leave the table. Pushing his chair back, he went upstairs to his room, where his trunk awaited.

Neville had always been a forgetful boy, despite the countless Remembralls Gran had sent him over the years. After last term ended, he had sworn to improve his memory. To that end, he had organized his belongings so that everything had its place, kept meticulously followed to-do lists (this was the first summer he could recall where he wasn't up half the night working frantically on his summer homework on the final nights leading up to start of term), and had started keeping a journal noting his progress. He was pleased to notice a definite improvement in his absentminded ways. He hoped his friends would notice as well.

Carefully, he went through his list of school supplies one final time. School robes, check. Books, check. Cauldron, phials, scales, telescope, check. Parchment, quills, ink.....he smiled. Everything was present and accounted for. He closed and latched the trunk, then turned at a soft hoot from the opposite corner of his room.

"Good morning, Winston," he said softly. Crossing the room, he fed the owl a piece of bacon saved from breakfast. "You didn't seriously think I would forget you, did you?"

Winston was a beautiful barn owl with a perfect heart-shaped face, a replacement for his old toad, Trevor, who had sadly passed away just after term ended after being mauled by a garden gnome. He had been a wholly unexpected birthday surprise gift from Gran. Though the official reason for receiving the owl had been Gran's expressed hope that with an owl of his own he might write more often, Neville knew the real reason was the Outstanding O.W.L.s he had received in Herbology, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. His 'Exceeds Expectations' marks in Transfiguration and Astronomy hadn't hurt, either. His high marks had been a pleasant surprise for everyone, himself included.

The owl finished the bacon and nipped gently at Neville's fingers, obviously hoping he had another piece hidden away. He stroked Winston's feathers. "Don't worry, Winston," he said. "You'll have friends in the owlery at school. Hedwig, Harry's bird, is very dignified. And Pigwidgeon, Ron's bird, is a hoot. No pun intended," he added hastily at Winston's affronted expression. "It's just that Pig is, well, a tad excitable."

"Neville! Bring your things downstairs!" Gran's brisk voice again. "Algie will be here any time now!"

"I'll be back," Neville promised the bird. Checking his list one final time, he realized that his wand was still on his bedside table. He grabbed it (oak, twelve and a half inches, flexible, with a phoenix feather core) and unlocked his trunk long enough to place it on top of his school clothes. He made one last mark on the list, closed and locked the trunk, and lugged it downstairs. By the time he'd made it down to the first floor he wished he wasn't still a student and been able to use the Locomotor Charm on his trunk to float it down the stairs. Then again, he thought ruefully, if he had been able to use the charm he wouldn't be heaving a trunk downstairs in the first place. Sometimes the rule forbidding Hogwarts students to use magic outside of school was damned inconvenient.

He straightened once the heavy trunk was by the door, knuckling his back with a grimace. This time last year he'd been puffing like a dragon who'd lost its fire. An exercise program had been on his list of things to do over the summer holidays. He'd read in a Muggle magazine (secretly, of course) that exercise improved blood flow to the brain, which improved memory. The additional weight loss was a terrific bonus. He hoped he would be able to find the time for exercise once term began.

He started to go back upstairs for Winston, but a glance out the window showed that his Great-Uncle Algie had arrived and was halfway up the walk towards the front door.

"Gran! Great-Uncle Algie's here!" Neville called. He opened the door and smiled.

"Neville, my dear boy!" Algie gave him a large hug. "Merlin's beard, you've grown! Lost some weight too, I see." He stood back, and Neville realized with a small shock that for the first time he was looking down at his great-uncle instead of the other way around. "You look more and more like your father every time I see you, boy," Algie said gruffly.

"Hello, Uncle Algie," Neville said, standing to one side. "Please come in. We're almost ready to go. I just have to go back for Winston."

"Oh, no problem," Algie said, pulling out his wand, and before Neville could stop him he'd shouted, "Accio Winston!"

Neville heard a squawk of outrage as Winston, still in his cage, bounced unceremoniously down the stairs before coming to rest atop Neville's trunk. He shook himself, glared at Neville, and began smoothing out his ruffled feathers with his beak.

"Algie, that bird cost a fortune!" Gran snapped, entering the room. From her expression, it was clear that she had arrived just in time to witness everything. "He could have been seriously injured!"

"Nothing injured but his pride, and owls are too proud by half anyhow," Algie replied. "I don't see why you couldn't have bought another toad for Neville after Trevor died, if you think owls are so expensive."

Gran sighed. "Oh, Algie," she said. "You'll never change."

Algie kissed her cheek, and just like that, all was forgiven. "You wouldn't know me otherwise," he said.

Neville swallowed his anger and concentrated on whispering reassurances and pleas for forgiveness to Winston, who pointedly ignored him. He stood up and said, "I've forgotten something. I'll be right back."

"Don't be too long, dear," Gran said. "We're leaving as soon as your things are loaded into the car."

Neville hurried into the kitchen and found a piece of bacon and a couple of sausages left over from breakfast. Wrapping them into a handkerchief, he shoved the small package into his jeans pocket and returned to the foyer in time to see his trunk float serenely out the door towards the waiting car. He bent, picked up Winston's cage, and followed.

It was a ninety minute drive to London. During that time, Neville made his peace with Winston, aided by the bacon and sausages and ignoring Gran's admonishments that feeding the bird would make him too fat to fly. If Winston got too fat, Neville thought, it would be Algie's fault, not his.

Stroking the owl through the bars of the cage, Neville leaned his head back and watched the English countryside roll by. Eventually, he fell asleep.

Shaking with fear, Neville finally succeeded in tearing the last of the tentacles from Ron, who was laughing and shrieking at the same time---a horrible, eerie sound that echoed through the room. Ginny, Hermione, and Luna sprawled nearby, every one of them unconscious. He wasn't too worried for Ginny or Luna; both had been hit with Stunning spells, and though they would be out for a good while, they would both recover.

He was much more concerned for Hermione. She was still alive from the spell that had felled her, but the last time he'd checked her pulse it had seemed fainter, nor had her breathing seemed as strong. Somehow, some way, he and Harry had to get her away from this place. Somehow, some way, he had to help Harry...

He shook Ron, ignoring the burst of pain from his broken nose, until the shrieking laughter died down to whimpering giggles. "I hab to go helb Harry," he said urgently, staring into Ron's dazed eyes. "I need you to wadge the girls. You unnerstand? Wadge Ginny ad Luna ad Herbione."

Ron's unfocused gaze slid over the motionless girls, a slight frown furrowing his brow. "Why are they sleeping?"

Neville didn't have time to explain. "Because dey're tired," he replied. "I need you to--to guard dem while dey're sleeping. Can you do dat?"

Ron nodded, faintly, obviously still puzzled. "You have a bloody nose."

"Yeah, I bro'e it. Stay here. I hab to go helb Harry."

Gripping Hermione's wand in one fist, he left Ron and the girls behind, following the path he'd last seen Harry take, pursued by Death-Eaters. He carried himself in a low crouch until he came to the door. Tightening his grip on Hermione's wand, he peered around the edge, one hand pressed lightly against his mouth in an attempt to stifle his heavy, snuffling breaths.

He recognized the room, like an amphitheater. There was a dais at the center of the amphitheater floor, with a strange doorway covered with a tattered veil. He didn't like the doorway, with its strange, oddly hypnotic voices. It frightened him.

Harry stood at the foot of the dais, the prophecy orb in one hand, his wand in the other. Lucius Malfoy was speaking to him, and next to him...

An invisible hand squeezed his chest. Hatred such as he'd never known surged through him.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

This was the woman who had tortured his parents into insanity. This was the woman who had left him virtually orphaned as a baby. Where other children had memories of laughter and fun outings with their parents, his consisted only of blank stares, thin faces, and unending silence. He had never heard them speak his name, never heard them tell him how much they loved him...

Dimly, he heard Malfoy tell Harry he was hopelessly outnumbered while the Lestrange woman sniggered, and any thought of attacking by stealth evaporated in the crimson rage exploding through his brain.

In his sleep, Neville moaned. He knew what happened next, didn't want to remember, but he couldn't wake, couldn't stop the memory disguised as dream from progressing to its agonizing conclusion.

He felt a cool hand on his brow and lurched awake, eyes snapping open. Beside him Winston hooted softly. He met Gran's exasperated gaze.

"You were moaning in your sleep," she said. "Do you need a potion? You've always had such terrible motion sickness. No wonder you've never been able to properly sit a broom."

At the mention of motion sickness Neville's stomach rolled queasily. He swallowed hard and replied, "Actually, that sounds like a wonderful idea."

Rummaging through her bag, Gran eventually pulled out a small flask and handed it to him. He pulled out the stopper and took a sip. His stomach quieted immediately.

"Neville, is there anything you want to tell me?" Gran asked. "Ever since you came home from school this past term you haven't been yourself. Has that awful Malfoy boy and his cronies been bothering you?"

"No, Gran. I've hardly thought of Draco at all this past summer." Instead, his thoughts had been full of Bellatrix Lestrange escaping along with Voldemort. She alone of Voldemort's followers that terrible night at the Ministry of Magic had escaped capture and imprisonment at Azkaban. His friends had nearly died. Harry's friend Sirius Black had died, and Neville had sensed a deep anger in Harry ever since. Though more than a little surprised that his grandmother hadn't learned about the events of last June, he wasn't about to enlighten her. She would only worry more about his welfare than she already did.

His thoughts turned once more to the Lestrange woman. He supposed that in an odd way he should be grateful for his encounter with Bellatrix. If he hadn't seen her evil with his own eyes, the entire memory-improvement program he'd set for himself over the summer might never have happened.

His grandmother's faded eyes bored into his own for a few moments more. Finally she turned back around and focused her attention on Great-Uncle Algie. "How much longer?"

"We're on the outskirts of London now, luv," Algie replied placidly. "We'll be at the train station in twenty minutes."

Neville contented himself with staring out the car window, watching the Muggles outside go through their humdrum, unmagical lives. He had met few Muggles in his life beyond Hermione's parents. For all their drab existence, he almost envied them. They had never heard of Lord Voldemort, or Death-Eaters, or been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. They were completely, blissfully unaware of the horrors that could be found in the Wizarding world.

He was still musing over Muggles and their blessed ignorance when Algie stopped the car. "King's Cross station, safe and sound," his great-uncle announced. "Let's get your things onto your trolley, shall we?"

It only took a few moments to pile his belongings onto the trolley. As the last item went on, Algie reached out and gripped Neville's arm with a warm, gnarled hand.

"You have yourself a good year at school, my boy," he said. "And if you ever decide you want another toad to replace poor Trevor, you let me know, eh?"

"I will," Neville promised, knowing he would never own another toad as long as he lived if he could help it.

"I'll wait out here with the car while you see Neville off," Algie said to Gran. "Don't want the car to get stolen, you know. You'd think that there are enough of these contraptions rolling around, there'd be no need to nip off in someone else's."

"Who knows how Muggle minds work?" Gran replied. "Very well. I should be back in half an hour, as soon as I've seen my grandson safely on the train."

Neville rolled his eyes. Merlin's beard, he was sixteen years old!

"I can see myself on the train, Gran," he said. "Really."

"Nonsense. Of course I'll accompany you." His grandmother took off towards the station entrance, and Neville had no choice but to follow with the trolley. "I'm sure you're perfectly capable of boarding the train yourself, but this will be the last time I see you until next summer, and I fully intend to make the most of every second."

Coming from Gran, this was almost a declaration of affection. Neville smiled, enjoying the warmth spreading through him, and followed his grandmother into the train station.

Inside, the place was packed full of Muggles, either greeting or taking their leave of others. Neville tried not to run into any of them with his trolley as he tried to keep up with his grandmother's brisk pace to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. It was a difficult task, as one of the trolley's wheels had seized up, making steering a chore.

He had just managed not to run into a young mother pushing a stroller when he heard a voice call his name.

"Neville! Over here!"

He looked up and saw his friend Ron Weasley jumping up and down to catch his attention, waving his arms. He looked like he'd grown even taller over the summer, as well as allowed his hair to grow longer. He waved to let Ron know he'd been spotted and watched as the tall young man began weaving through the throng to reach him.

"Hullo, Ron," he said once they were face to face.

"Hey, Neville! Hello, Mrs. Longbottom," he added, nodding in Neville's grandmother's direction. Turning back to Neville, he continued, "Did you have a good holiday? I've been helping Fred and George with their joke shop over the summer. I've started my own savings account over at Gringotts. I've got over twenty-five Galleons tucked away!" His bright-eyed gaze swept over Neville's trolley, and his eyes widened. "Hey, you've got an owl! What's his name?"

"Winston."

They were interrupted by Mrs. Longbottom. "Well, dear, I suppose this is where I leave you."

Neville turned to his grandmother. "I'll send a letter with Winston to you as soon as I arrive," he promised.

"I should hope so," she replied. "Seeing as how it's why I got him in the first place." She leaned up and gave Neville a dry peck on the cheek. "Behave yourself. Stay out of trouble, and concentrate on your studies."

"I will." He embraced her gently. "I love you, Gran."

She allowed a faint smile to touch her lips. "You're a good boy, Neville," she said, before returning to her usual asperity. "Now get along with you, before you and young Weasley miss your train."

Neville gave his grandmother a final wave before turning to accompany Ron to the platform. "So you got a job with your brothers?"

"They needed the extra help. Business is booming." Ron grinned in anticipation. "You should see what some of the other students bought over the summer. Filch is going to be absolutely cross-eyed with frustration! Oh, there's Mum and Ginny. I don't see Harry, but he's here too." He lowered his voice. "Harry's not in a good mood. You might want to be careful. He's still in mourning for Sirius."

They had reached Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. Ron's mother smiled and held out her hand. "Hello, Neville. Did you have a good holiday?"

"I did, thank you. Hello, Ginny."

Ginny Weasley turned to face him, and Neville suddenly found that he'd lost his power of speech.

Sometime over the summer, Ginny had grown up into a lovely young lady. Neville floundered, suddenly at a loss for words. He finally said the first thing that came to mind.

"Erm...hi, Ginny," he said.