The Mark of Courage

The Mark of Courage

Chapter Five

The rest of Neville's first full day back at Hogwarts passed in a blur of magic and homework. Double Potions was followed by double Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall's eyes gleamed with something suspiciously close to satisfaction when she saw him enter her classroom. Neville, in turn, was pleasantly surprised when he managed to transform his hedgehog into a recognizably decent raven. Though the feathers were perhaps a little too spiny for perfection, Neville nonetheless took a great deal of pride in his relative success.

A surprisingly smooth Potions class, and now a near-perfect Transfiguration class---Neville nearly floated into the Great Hall when lunchtime rolled around. He probably would have floated, were it not for the weight of his textbooks. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the whimsical notion; but he still couldn't quite believe his good fortune thus far.

He was absolutely starving as he sat down at the Gryffindor table; the toast and tea he'd had for breakfast hadn't lasted long. He filled his plate with shepherd's pie, green beans, and broccoli, and settled down to eat, his Potions textbook propped up against the salt cellar.

He was mentally composing a list of points summarizing the first chapter of his Potions text and wishing he could write and eat at the same time when movement across the table caught his eye. He looked up to see Ginny, Dean, and Seamus taking seats. Dean was carrying Ginny's books, a sight that created an unexpected weight in Neville's chest. He wished he could be the one carrying her books.

"Do you mind if we join you?" Ginny asked. "You looked so busy; I didn't want to interrupt." There was a dazed, nearly frantic expression shadowing her eyes.

You can always join me, Ginny. Too bad you're not alone...

"Erm...sure," Neville replied, and hid a wince. He figured he had just sounded almost as suave as a village idiot. Rather than taking the risk of sounding even more foolish, he went back to his textbook, one ear listening to the conversation going on in front of him.

"I knew there would be a lot of homework," Ginny was saying, "but I never thought it would be this much! I have to write an essay for Divination explaining the connection between the Tarot and astrology, I have to summarize the first chapter of my Defense Against the Dark Arts text, and I have to draw pictures illustrating the life cycle of bubotubers for Herbology!" She sighed and reached for the roasted pork. "And I still have Potions and Charms this afternoon. However did you manage it all last year, Dean?"

"Barely," Dean replied unhelpfully. "Just do what you can. You're a smart girl, you'll do just fine."

"So what is she like?" Seamus asked.

"What is who like?" Ginny had finished filling her own plate and was rummaging through her bag for a book.

"The new professor. Snape's sister." Seamus leaned towards her. "We don't have her class until late this afternoon. Is she anything like tall, dark, and greasy?"

Neville looked up from his book, not even trying to pretend that he hadn't been eavesdropping on the conversation. "I saw her this morning, coming back from the owlery," he said. "She washes her hair, at least. I just hope she isn't like last year's instructor."

Everyone shuddered, remembering Dolores Umbridge.

"No, she's not anything like Umbridge," Ginny said thoughtfully. "She's not like her brother, either. She's a good teacher. It seems like she knows what she's about."

"Well, I suppose that's good," Seamus said. "I still wish Professor Lupin would come back. He was the best of the lot."

From there the conversation turned towards the Quidditch tryouts taking place that weekend. That same weekend featured tryouts for the new Quidditch commentator, since Lee Jordan had left school the previous year. His knowledgeable, yet rarely unbiased play-by-play commentary would be missed, and they all wondered if his replacement could perform with as much flair and unbridled enthusiasm.

"I think Michael Corner would be good at it," Ginny said. Beside her, Dean frowned, not liking the mention of her former boyfriend. "He knows all of the statistics of all the players."

"He's a Ravenclaw, of course he would know that sort of...thing," Dean said dismissively. "I say Blaise Zabini gets the job. He's a Quidditch fanatic, even though he's got no talent for the game himself."

Seamus shook his head. "True, but he's a Slytherin through and through. His play-by-play would make Lee's look balanced in comparison."

"Why don't you try out, Neville?" Ginny asked suddenly.

Neville's eyes widened. "Me?" he squeaked. "I...no...I don't think so..."

"Why not?"

He shrugged uncomfortably. "I just don't think I'd be any good at it, that's all. Too many people. And....and...." Inspiration seized him. "...and I don't know that much about Quidditch. I'd be terrible."

Seamus snorted derisively. "That's bollocks, and you know it. I've seen you at every game, and you've never once looked confused." He brushed a lock of sand-colored hair away from his face. "And you seemed to have participated often enough in the Quidditch talk in the dormitories."

"I think you'd be pretty good at it," Ginny said.

It would make her happy, a small voice whispered in Neville's head. You'd get her attention, all right...

I'd look a proper idiot! I don't want that kind of attention! I get enough of it as it is!

You seem to be enjoying the attention you've received so far...

That's different! I was actually doing something right! That never happens!

"Well, just think about it, at least," Ginny said, breaking into his thoughts. "You will come to see me try out, though, won't you?" She looked almost disappointed.

"Of course I'll come to see the tryouts," Neville replied. "And...I'll think about it. The other thing. You know, the commentating." He clamped his jaws shut before he could stammer out anything more and look even worse than he already did. Shoveling his Potions text back into his bag, he shouldered it and stood up. "I have to go. I've got Herbology next, and it's a long walk to the greenhouses. I'll see you at dinner." He hurried away, but not before he saw the confused hurt in Ginny's eyes.

He was still trying to figure out what he had said to hurt Ginny when he emerged from the castle and made his way towards the greenhouses. The September day was sunny, clear, and warm. Nearby, Neville could see the giant squid's tentacles waving lazily as it enjoyed the warmer waters of the lake's surface. Further off, he could see Hagrid puttering around his hut, presumably preparing for his next Care of Magical Creatures class.

He walked on. He hadn't meant to hurt Ginny's feelings. After all, he had said he would consider trying out for the commentator position, and he'd promised to attend the Quidditch tryouts. Should he have sounded more enthusiastic? Perhaps he should have mentioned her flying skills? He shook his head, completely unaware that he had just joined the brotherhood of young men utterly flummoxed by young women.

He arrived at the greenhouses a few minutes later. Since he was early, he took the opportunity to get a head start on his homework and pulled out his journal, a quill, and his inkbottle. Squeezing his eyes shut in concentration, he recalled his mental Potions list from lunch and wrote it down quickly before he could forget them. By the time he'd finished jotting down the last summary point, other students had begun drifting into class.

He was the only Gryffindor taking sixth-year Herbology. His classmates were almost entirely Hufflepuff, with a couple of Ravenclaws and Slytherins mixed in. Neville wasn't surprised. Herbology wasn't a subject that typically required a great deal of bravery.

Professor Sprout entered the greenhouse, smiling. "We're repotting Mandrakes today," she announced happily. "I know we worked with them during your second year, but those were babies. The Mandrakes you'll be working with today are adolescents, and they're a particularly rebellious lot this year. You'll have to be forceful with them or they'll run all over you. They'll be louder as well, so you'll need to wear these earplugs in addition to the earmuffs." She began passing out the earplugs. "They've been charmed to shut out all sound, so as long you're wearing them correctly there shouldn't be any problems." After demonstrating the proper way to repot an adolescent Mandrake, the professor set them to work.

It was a frustrating chore. Pulled from their comfy pots, the Mandrakes yelled, screamed, and swore at the students while fighting against the move into the larger pots. Upon discovering that yelling didn't work (thanks to the ear protection), the Mandrakes went into their new homes sullenly, but not without many rude hand gestures when they thought the student wasn't looking. One of them managed to knock Millicent Bulstrode's earmuffs off while swearing at her, knocking her unconscious. Professor Sprout just barely managed to spirit the Slytherin girl to safety before the Mandrake's voice killed her.

The air had turned a deep shade of cobalt blue by the time the last Mandrake was repotted and the students could safely remove their earmuffs and plugs. Neville pushed his sweat-dampened hair off his forehead and surveyed the neat rows of freshly potted Mandrakes before him with pleasure. Mandrakes were evil-tempered plants, but he couldn't deny that fighting them and winning made for a rewarding sense of accomplishment.

After washing away the dirt and sweat from his face and hands, Neville gathered his things and headed back towards the castle and his final class of the day, Defense Against the Dark Arts. He remembered Ginny's description of Sybilla Snape being a good teacher who knew the subject, and hoped her first impression hadn't been wrong. It would be nice to have a Professor Snape that didn't make him tremble in his boots.

He met Hermione on the way to class. She fell into step beside him when he greeted her; and he listened politely as she launched into a description of her first day back in Arithmancy, how it was such a fascinating subject and what a wonderful and clever teacher Professor Vector was. Neville had never been good with numbers, so most of what she described went over his head. He knew it was her favorite course, though, so he let her ramble.

She didn't stop talking until they met up with Harry and Ron outside of the classroom. Neville seized upon the temporary break in Hermione's soliloquy and said, "I didn't see you at lunch today."

"Hermione and I were in the library," Ron said. For some strange reason he blushed as he spoke. Harry and Neville exchanged glances before Harry grinned and punched Ron's arm.

"You sly dog! About time!"

By now Hermione was blushing too. Neville blinked, finally realizing that whatever Ron and Hermione had been doing in the library, it hadn't been studying.

You could invite Ginny to study with you in the library, Neville thought. He dismissed it almost immediately. If Dean found out, Draco Malfoy and his Potions class would be the least of his worries.

"We were studying! Honestly!" Ron said.

"Sure you were," Harry replied, still grinning.

They entered the classroom and found seats near the back. Harry's grin faded as they pulled their wands and their textbooks from their bags.

"I talked to Ginny at lunch," Neville said, seeing Harry's good humor slip away. "She told me that Professor Snape isn't anything like Umbridge."

"I hope not," Harry answered quietly.

Hermione scanned the classroom intently as it filled with students before smiling broadly. "Look, Harry," she said. "They're all here. You did it!"

"Did what? What are you talking about?"

She rolled her eyes. "The DA, Harry. Dumbledore's Army. Everyone from our year who was a member is here. Don't you realize what that means?" When Harry didn't answer, she exclaimed, "They all passed the O.W.L. exam! Because of the DA! Isn't that wonderful?"

She was right. Looking around, Neville recognized Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan of Gryffindor; Terry Boot and Padma Patil of Ravenclaw; and Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Ernie MacMillan of Hufflepuff. All of them were sixth years; and all had been members of Dumbledore's Army.

"It wasn't just me," Harry said uncomfortably. "I didn't take their exams for them, you know. Besides, not everyone in here was a member." He jerked his head towards the opposite side of the room, where Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini sat whispering. "They managed to get their O.W.L. just fine without me."

Ron glanced over and pulled a face. "Too bad they weren't in the DA. I know my countercurses would have improved a lot faster if they'd been there for me to practice on."

The classroom door clicked shut as Sybilla Snape entered the room, and the students fell silent even before she could tell them to do so. One eyebrow lifted in amusement as she walked across the room to her desk.

"I see my reputation precedes me," she said dryly, resting one hip against the desk and crossing her arms. "Rest assured, the, ahh, other Professor Snape has pointed each of you out to me and told me of what I might expect." She pushed away from the desk, eyes sweeping the room, marking each student. "I, however, prefer to make my own decisions." Her gaze rested momentarily upon a smirking Draco Malfoy, who suddenly looked much less certain than he had only seconds earlier.

"Seeing that I am the sixth professor of this class in as many years, I took it upon myself to review what you've learned," the new Professor Snape continued briskly, "and I'm struck by the intriguingly haphazard order of your instruction." She shuffled through some notes. "Professor Quirrel was adequate. Professor Lockhart, less so. Professor Lupin, at least, brought you back up to scratch. Professor Moody brought up topics much too advanced for fourth year students, though it appears that you've acquitted yourselves rather well." She looked up from her notes, again meeting each student's rapt gaze. "We will be reviewing some of the subjects he taught again this year, including the Forbidden Curses. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, Professor Umbridge, this past year. You should have been taught practical theory your second year along with the basic countercurses. At least you've learned it. I know that compared to actually doing the magic, magical theory can be excruciatingly dull, but it's extremely useful to know what types of spells can be used, when, where, and how they can be used, and why their use in certain situations is proscribed. It's always a good idea to go back and review such things on occasion, so if you will open your books to Chapter One, we'll get started. Please read pages one through seven, and then we'll discuss the differences between Dark magic, everyday magic, and protective magic. You may begin."

Neville exchanged looks with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, who mouthed 'Bloody hell' before opening his book and starting to read. Neville opened his own book, a strange thrill of excitement running through him. Finally, finally, a Dark Arts professor who knew the subject! While he would always remember Professor Lupin's gentleness while giving a terrified boy the strength to banish a boggart in third year; and the kindness Professor Moody had shown a shell-shocked boy in fourth year, it had been a long time since the students had had a capable teacher who hadn't been a werewolf, a Death-Eater in disguise, or worse. He noticed that the other students around him who had been members of the DA shared his excitement. Hannah Abbott was smiling as she read, and Padma Patil's eyes were fairly glowing with enthusiasm.

The ensuing discussion was lively. Professor Snape paced back and forth across the classroom, pointing to students. She would ask for their name, ask a question, and then have them defend their answer. She was generous with both praise and House points, yet withering in her criticisms of replies not carefully thought out. By the end of class, Hermione looked exultant, Draco was glowering, and Neville was giddy with the thrill of having won Gryffindor ten points for an answer to one of Snape's more probing questions.

If there was one complaint about the new professor, it was that she was as generous with her homework as she was in her praise. She assigned a twelve-inch essay asking them to summarize the day's discussion, why they agreed or disagreed with the points made, using the text as reference, and including what they felt had been omitted from the discussion and why they thought it important.

The time flew by, and before they knew it, class was over. Neville slid his textbook into his bag, looking up in surprise when Professor Snape said, "Mr. Potter, could I see you for a moment? It won't take long, I assure you."

Harry's mouth tightened, but he nodded and set his things back on his desk.

"We'll save you a spot at dinner, mate," Ron promised. Neville followed him and Hermione from the classroom. "I wonder what that was all about?"

"I'm sure we'll find out at dinner," Hermione replied, still looking as though she had found paradise. "Wasn't she amazing? I think she might be a better teacher than even Professor Vector!"

"Oh, no," Ron moaned.

The conversation among the students that evening at dinner all seemed to revolve around the latest Professor Snape. Diligent students loved her, lazy students weren't as enamored, and the Slytherins were livid.

"What else did you expect?" Neville overheard Pansy Parkinson exclaim. "She was the only Snape in her family's generation that didn't get Sorted into our House. I heard she was a Ravenclaw!"

"She was pompous enough for them," Draco replied, apparently still in a snit. "I think Potions Snape is a better teacher. Father says so."

Neville rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. He knew why Malfoy preferred one Snape over the other. One played favorites, the other didn't; and he hadn't liked not being teacher's pet.

Harry joined them shortly after they had begun eating. He seemed deep in thought as he filled his plate, and the tightness hadn't entirely left his expression.

"So, what did she want?" Hermione asked.

"Occlumency apparently runs in the Snape family," Harry replied. "Dumbledore has asked her to continue giving me lessons. I have to meet with her twice a week in the evenings, starting tomorrow."

Hermione paused, her fork poised in the air. "Has your scar been bothering you again?" Neville looked over at Harry, worried. Bad things usually happened when Harry's scar began hurting him.

"I'm fine," Harry said tersely. "Just stop worrying about it, okay? I don't want to talk about the damned scar." He began eating.

Neville went back to his own dinner, but his appetite was gone. He was almost positive that despite Harry's denials, the scar had bothered him, and recently at that. Which could only mean one thing: things were going to become very interesting very soon.