The Mark of Courage

The Mark of Courage

Chapter Two

"Hello, Neville," Ginny said with a bright smile that did strange things to his breathing and heartbeat. "You look as if you enjoyed your holiday."

"Wonderful," Neville said. His voice had a weird, strangled quality to it. He cleared his throat and tried again. "It was wonderful. You look wonderful."

I can't believe I said that!

Ginny laughed, her cheeks turning pink. "Ask me again at Christmas if I look wonderful," she said. "After watching the rest of you last year while studying for your O.W.L.s, I must confess that I'm almost terrified to get on the train this year!"

"You'll do fine," Neville said. "You're smart, almost as smart as Hermione."

Oh, good job, Neville. Now you've gone and insulted her intelligence.

But Ginny only laughed again and said, "Neville, everyone is 'almost' as smart as Hermione!"

"You're right about that," Ron grumbled. "She told me in one of her letters that she got an 'Outstanding' O.W.L. in every subject. She'll be impossible this year, I just know it!"

Neville sensed movement behind him, but before he could turn around Ginny said, "Harry! There you are! We were beginning to think we'd lost you."

"What, and miss the train? Can you imagine what might happen?" Harry came into Neville's field of vision, dressed as usual in clothes several sizes too large and shoes that looked at least a size too small. There was a smile on his face as he spoke, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"We don't have Dad's car this time," Ron said. "I suppose you could have taken the Knight Bus, but that would have been almost as bad as being beaten up by the Whomping Willow."

The atmosphere had changed, subtly but still noticeable. The camaraderie felt almost forced, as though Harry's arrival had suddenly put everyone on eggshells. Neville wished he could break the unspoken tension by saying something witty that would make everyone break out in genuine laughter, but words failed him. They usually did, so he didn't bother with the attempt.

It didn't matter, anyway. Molly Weasley hurried over, making shooing motions with her hands. "You can talk as much as you like---when you're on the train!" she said. "Now, Ron, Ginny, you go first. Neville, you can go through with Harry. I'll be right behind you. Go on, now, go!"

Ron and Ginny dutifully followed their mother's instructions, wheeling their trolleys so that they faced the wall separating platforms Nine and Ten and walked forward. One moment they were there, the next they had vanished. Neville and Harry followed, Neville with his eyes closed. Even though this was the sixth time he had done this, he couldn't completely get rid of a niggling worry that this might be the year he crashed into the wall and made a total fool of himself.

He opened his eyes a moment later, safely on the other side. He coughed as smoke from the Hogwarts Express steam engine wafted over him. Swiping at his watering eyes, he followed the others to the train. He helped Ginny load her trunk into a compartment before bringing in his own belongings, and soon the four of them were comfortably settled into the compartment.

"Where is Hermione?" Neville asked. "I haven't seen her at all today. I figured she would be here with the rest of us."

Ron made a long face. "With the other prefects, I suppose. Ginny and I should probably join them in a little bit. Hermione and I got the job again this year for the sixth years," he added with a sigh. "I really hope I don't get chosen for Head Boy next year; Fred and George would never let me live it down..."

Neville turned towards Ginny, who looked shyly pleased with herself. "Who's the other Gryffindor prefect for fifth year?" he asked.

"Colin Creevey."

"Well, congratulations. I know you'll make an excellent prefect."

"Do you really think so? I'm afraid I'll make a huge mess of it."

Ron snorted. "Just follow Hermione's lead. You'll be bossing everyone around in no time at all."

At that moment the compartment door slid open, and Hermione Granger came in. "Hi, Harry! Hi, Neville! Ooohh, is that your owl? He's beautiful!" She had already donned her school robes, her prefect badge pinned carefully to her chest. Brushing her hair back from her face, she took a seat. "We still have a bit of time before Ron and Ginny and I have to join the other prefects. I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet you at the train station, but the car got a flat on the way, and I just barely made it onto the train."

Ginny got to her feet. "I really should go find Dean," she said. "I promised to spend some time with him before I went to the prefects' compartments."

"Try to keep the snogging to a minimum," Ron told his sister. "I like the bloke, but I will beat him up if I have to." Ginny stuck her tongue out at him, and departed.

Neville watched Ginny leave, and it was like the sun left with her, leaving him in cloudy gloom. He had completely forgotten that she and Dean Thomas had hooked up at the very end of last term. Before that, she had been with Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw who was rumored to be going with Cho Chang now. Compared to Dean Thomas, who was tall and outgoing and wonderfully gifted both magically and artistically, Neville figured he didn't stand a chance.

They spent some time catching up on how the others had passed the summer. He already knew Ron had spent the summer working in his brothers' joke shop, but hadn't yet heard about Hermione's trip to Italy, where she had learned quite a bit from some stregas she had met in Tuscany, though when she began waxing poetic on the joys of shopping Neville stopped paying attention.

Harry's summer had been spent the same as other summers before---avoiding the Dursleys and counting the days until he could leave. His uncle and aunt had unwittingly given Harry his best birthday present ever by letting him go to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. He'd had a birthday party and all the cake and ice cream he could possibly eat. He and Ron had spent time practicing Quidditch when Ron wasn't working at the shop, and Ron's Keeper skills was growing by leaps and bounds.

"No 'Weasley Is Our King' from the Slytherins this year!" Ron said with unmistakable satisfaction. "I think I'll have to invent a song about Malfoy and how he can't find the Snitch unless it flies right up his arse."

"What about you, Neville?" Hermione looked at him. "You look as though you've been busy."

"Not really." He shrugged. "Gran and I went to Blackpool again like we do every summer. I went swimming and hiking a little. Did some gardening. My mimbulus mimbletonia is thriving. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Oh, come on!" Ron scoffed. "Look at you! You did more than just a little swimming and hiking!"

"Maybe more than a little," Neville admitted, more pleased than he thought he'd be.

"Don't be so modest," Hermione said. "You've changed. You don't look like the old Neville Longbottom we've all grown to know and like. You're taller, you're more fit, you've got a gorgeous owl....what happened to Trevor, anyway?"

"He died. He escaped into the garden and a gnome got him. Gran got me Winston as a replacement."

"How awful for Trevor! Well, Winston is a lovely bird. Not that I'd ever get rid of Crookshanks, of course." Hermione pushed her hair back over her shoulder again. "I suppose I'm simply more of a cat person that an owl person."

She glanced at her wristwatch and sucked in a breath. "Oh my goodness, we're going to be late! Ron, we have to go!"

"We'll be back later," Ron said gloomily, "once we've helped explain duties to the fifth year prefects and patrolled the train once or twice. Save some Chocolate Frogs for me if the food trolley comes by before I get back, would you?"

"Sure," Neville and Harry replied.

Once Ron and Hermione left it became very quiet in the compartment. Harry looked out the window, apparently content with watching the scenery. Neville spent some time writing in his journal (...they've noticed the weight loss! Now if I could only believe that everything else will fall into place as easily...)

He finished his journal entry and looked up to find that Harry's attention had switched from the window to him. Even from where he sat Neville could feel the dark rage and grief simmering in the other boy, as strong now as it had been in June. There was a coldness in Harry's eyes that hadn't been there before; a new sullen cast to his features that hadn't existed before Sirius Black's death. Neville met his gaze, wondering what the other boy was thinking, but as the moments passed and nothing was said he found himself becoming increasingly uncomfortable under that unblinking green gaze.

The old Neville would have broken eye contact first. The new, (hopefully) improving Neville endured Harry's stare for exactly one minute longer before crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back in his seat. "Either you're entranced with my beautiful brown eyes, or I've got a spot on my nose and you're still trying to find the kindest way to tell me. Personally, I'm betting on the spot."

It worked. Harry blinked before a slow smile spread across his features.

"Actually, the spot is on your chin. Don't worry; it's just a tiny bit of ink from writing in your journal. It is a journal, isn't it? I don't recall you ever having one before."

"I started it over the summer. I thought it might help with my memory. Everyone knows how awful it is, it's the running joke of the school." Harry was right; there was a spot on his chin. Neville scrubbed it off with his hand, telling himself that this was really a sign of improvement. Last year he would have assuredly managed to upend the inkbottle on himself. He didn't even want to consider the sort of mess he would have created two years ago. He looked over to Harry and said, "I'm tired of being bullied around and laughed at. I'm sick of it." He was shocked at the ferocity in his voice; and by the stunned expression on Harry's face, he was too.

The food trolley came by just then, and Harry bought some of everything as he did every year. Neville limited himself to a small bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

Once Harry and Neville had made their purchases and the trolley continued its way down the aisle, Harry asked, "Is it doing any good? Writing in your journal?"

"I think so. It helps organize my thoughts. I keep lists in there. I've gotten pretty good at following lists, which should help me in Potions this year. Won't Snape be amazed if I don't melt a cauldron this year?"

"If we're very lucky," Harry said wickedly, "Snape will keel right over from the shock, and Dumbledore will have to find someone else to teach Potions!"

They both had a good laugh, enjoying the mental image of Snape clutching his chest and collapsing at the sight of perfectly brewed potion, courtesy of Neville Longbottom. Neville's spirits lightened, watching Harry laugh and knowing that he had helped bring it about. Harry had looked like someone who hadn't laughed in a very long time.

"I'm surprised you're taking Potions," Harry said once the laughter died down. "I figured you'd be glad to leave that behind once fifth year ended. I wish I didn't have to, but since I've decided to become an Auror I don't really have a choice." He pushed his glasses up. "You never told us what field you were looking into. Something in Herbology, I expect; it's always been your best subject, and I know Professor Sprout would be more than happy to get you started."

"I thought about it," Neville agreed. "I had sort of pictured myself taking over the teaching position once she retired. I changed my mind, though. I'm going to be an Auror, too. Do you recall what Professor McGonagall told me once in her class? She said that I had the talent, but no confidence in my work. She's right. I really can make a decent potion, as long as Snape isn't in the same room while I'm mixing it. It's just that no one has ever seen me do it."

For the second time that day, Harry looked stunned. "An Auror, Neville? Are you sure? I've heard that it's really hard...not everyone can be one..."

Neville's eyes narrowed against the unexpected hurt welling in him. He'd thought that Harry, at least, would support him in his new ambition. He flung himself back in his seat and snapped, "My parents were Aurors. Good ones, too. And after what happened last year..."

There. The subject everyone had skirted around all summer broached at last, the pink elephant in the room finally acknowledged. The sullen darkness seeped back into Harry's expression. "I don't want to talk about it," he said flatly.

"Well, I do," Neville replied. "I think about it every day. I saw what happened to your friend"---Harry made a small choked sound---"and I saw who did it. I will never forget what she did to me, and I have to stop her if it's the last thing I ever do."

"Your parents are still alive, Neville! Bellatrix killed Sirius!" Harry's own anger had risen to the surface, equal to Neville's. "She hit him with a Stunning spell, and he fell through that doorway, and he's never---coming---back. I almost died that night. I wish I had!" For a brief moment it seemed as though Harry might add something else, but whatever it was, he caught himself before he apparently said too much. Instead, he turned back to the window, staring out with blind eyes.

Neville fought back the tears threatening to blur his vision, concentrating instead on the yellowish Every Flavor Bean he had just pulled out of the bag. It was too dark a yellow to be lemon curd, but could possibly pass for lemonade; though there was a definite risk that it could be urine-flavored as well...

"You've seen my Mum," he said, still examining the bean he held. "Last Christmas, remember? Would you call that living?" He nibbled at the bean before popping it into his mouth and chewing, as it had turned out to be lemonade-flavored after all.

Harry didn't reply for a long time. Then, reluctantly: "No."

"Listen, then. You have bigger fish to fry. V-V-Voldemort killed your parents." It was still hard, saying that name aloud. "Bellatrix Lestrange might as well have killed mine. You do whatever you need to in order to get the Dark Lord, but Bellatrix is mine. I think I have a prior claim."

"So that's why you've decided to become an Auror? To get back at her?"

Neville nodded. "Her, and everyone like her." The threat of tears had left him entirely.

Harry let out a sigh that seemed to originate all the way from his toes and turned back from the window. "It's a deal. You can have first crack at that woman. I'll even help you with your studies, and so will Ron. He's going to try to be an Auror, too."

"What about Hermione? She'd be really great at it, I bet."

"Nah, I think she'll end up in a career in Muggle relations. Either that, or she'll become a professor."

The compartment door opened, and they looked up as Hermione, Ron, and Ginny entered. Ginny wore a petulant expression on her face as she sat down beside Neville.

"I thought you were going to spend time with Dean," Harry said, passing her some Cauldron Cakes and a bottle of pumpkin juice. Beside him Ron was already on his third Chocolate Frog, his eyes closed in bliss.

"I did," Ginny said. "All he wanted to talk about was Quidditch and that Muggle sport he likes I can never remember the name of."

"Football?" Harry supplied helpfully.

"That's it. Stupid name for a sport, in my opinion. I've heard they use their heads as well as their feet. Why call it football, then?"

"It's no more silly a name than Quidditch," Hermione said mildly. "Anyone for a game of Exploding Snap?"

They played several rounds of Exploding Snap, passing the time. Neville actually won the last game before it was time to pull on school robes for their arrival at Hogwarts. The train came to a stop fifteen minutes later. Grabbing Winston's cage, Neville joined the others as they made their way to the Hogsmeade Station platform and towards the waiting carriages beyond.

"Is it true?" Ron asked, squeezing beside Neville as they inched forward through the seemingly vast number of students. Close by they could hear Hagrid's voice, calling out, "Firs' years over 'ere, firs' years...there yeh go, tha's a good lad....Firs' years over 'ere..."

"Is what true?" Neville concentrated on keeping Winston's cage steady. The owl wasn't taking the crowding and noise well, hooting loudly in displeasure.

"Harry says you're going to become an Auror with us."

"It's true. I'm going to try, at least."

"You?" a voice drawled mockingly behind them. "An Auror? The Wizarding world may as well surrender to the Dark Lord now, if Neville 'I Might As Well Be a Squib' Longbottom joins their ranks!"

Ron muttered something creatively obscene under his breath. Neville turned around, already knowing who he would see.

Draco Malfoy had his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on his pale, pointed face. He was flanked as always by his cronies Vincent Goyle and Gregory Crabbe, both of whom were sniggering sycophantically.

"It's funny enough that Potty and the Weasel think they're smart enough to join the Aurors. How can they fail with the Brainless Wonder at their side, making them look good?" Crabbe and Goyle laughed with only minimal prompting from Draco.

"Shut up!" Ginny hissed from behind Neville. "Neville's better than you could ever hope to be!"
Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione were at his back. Ginny's ringing declaration of confidence bubbled through Neville with the effect of fine wine, intoxicating and warm. Perhaps he didn't stand a chance of winning her away from Dean Thomas, but he had her friendship and that of the others standing with her; and that gave him all the courage he needed.

"Hello, Malfoy," he said, intentionally making his voice as full of mockery as the other boy's had been. "Did you have a good summer? How's your father holding up in Azkaban?" He smiled, knowing it would infuriate Draco.

A deafening silence fell over the group.