The Mark of Courage

The Mark of Courage

Chapter Ten

It was the day Neville thought would never end.

After receiving detention in Potions, he lost twenty more points for his House during class itself, for the pettiest of reasons. Not knowing an answer right away; forgetting to say 'sir', little things that added up. Neville couldn't wait until class ended, but he still had to find out when he had to serve his detention.

He approached Snape's desk slowly as the other students filed out of the dungeon, clutching his bookbag to his chest. Snape didn't look up from the papers he was grading until only the width of the desk separated the two. "What is it, Longbottom?"

Neville gritted his teeth. The professor knew perfectly well why he was standing here. Not knowing whether he was more angry or humiliated, he replied, "When do you want me to serve my detention?" Quickly, he added, "Professor." Losing five more points for Gryffindor was the last thing he wanted to do this horrendous morning.

Snape looked up from his papers, his baleful gaze peering through the fringe of greasy hair falling across his eyes. "Tonight, I think, at seven; in my office."

"But I..."

"Are you questioning me, Longbottom?"

"...have Occlumency with Professor Snape tonight," Neville finished determinedly. "The other Professor Snape. Your sister, sir."

The corner of Snape's mouth twitched, whether in amusement or annoyance, Neville couldn't tell. "Then you will simply have to make your apologies to my sister. I will see you tonight at seven. Don't be late." He returned to the stack of parchment on his desk, dismissing him.

Neville remained standing for a moment longer, stunned and furious. Snape had been in the office with Dumbledore last night. He knew how important this was! For a moment, he wondered whether or not the professor also knew about this Order his parents had once belonged to, and if he was a member.

"Was there anything else, or do I need to explain things to you again?" Snape definitely sounded annoyed now.

"Nothing, sir," Neville said. "Just thinking."

He turned and left the dungeon, still seething. He didn't know when he was going to be able to inform Professor Snape that he wouldn't be attending her Occlumency lesson; this was Tuesday, the one day of the week he didn't have Defense Against the Dark Arts. He supposed there was nothing for it but to have Harry give her the news and hope she understood about the whole mess.

Susan Bones was waiting for him outside the classroom door. He couldn't help but smile, seeing her obvious concern. It was nice knowing that somebody cared. "I'm meeting him in his office tonight," he told her, "which means I probably only have to do lines. Actually, it's an improvement. He usually has me gutting toads or whatnot; and he has Crabbe and Goyle to do that for him this month."

"It's not Crabbe and Goyle I'm worried about," Susan said. "I saw the way Malfoy kept looking at you whenever he thought you weren't paying attention. It's almost as if he's decided against going after Potter in favor of you this year."

"I've noticed," Neville replied. "I can't figure it out. I mean, I've said some things to him, but it's no worse than what Harry, Ron, and Hermione have said to him over the years." He shrugged, brushing it off. "Besides, it's only Malfoy. He's all talk and no action. To be honest, it's become almost fun to push his buttons. I used to be so afraid of him!"

"I'd still be careful if I were you," Susan said seriously, turning to face him. "Remember who his father is."

"His father is a fugitive."

"But he's still free, Neville. Who knows what damage he and You Know Who's other followers will do before the Ministry catches up to them again?"

Susan's aunt was a high-ranking official in the Ministry. If anyone would know what was happening, her aunt would be one of the first; and Susan probably heard some of it herself. He also remembered that she had as much reason to worry about the latest prison escape as he did: her uncle and his family had been killed by Death Eaters when she was still a baby.

"I'll be careful," he told her. "I have a lot to be careful about."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Following break Neville endured a disastrous ninety minutes of Transfiguration before escaping to the Great Hall for lunch. He hadn't known McGonagall's lips could pinch together that tightly. He hoped never to see it again, nor be its cause. At least he hadn't lost any more points for Gryffindor. It was small comfort, but it was becoming the sort of day where he'd take any comfort he could.

He took his seat next to Ron and reached for a slice of ham. Across the table Ginny gave him a sympathetic smile. "I heard you got detention with Snape. I'm sorry. So when is it?"

"Tonight."

"What?" Harry exploded. "What do you mean, tonight? Didn't you tell him you had Occlumency?"

"I told him. It didn't do any good. I still have to meet with him tonight." Neville slathered some spicy mustard over the ham. "We don't have Dark Arts today either, so I can't tell her I can't come. You're going to have to tell her for me, Harry."

"I can't believe he'd do that," Harry fumed. "No, scratch that. I'm not surprised at all. Stupid, slimy, greasy..."

"I'll be there Friday," Neville said hurriedly, not wanting to spend lunch listening to Harry list Snape's failings. "I'll apologize to her tomorrow and promise it'll never happen again. From now on, if I'm going to insult Malfoy I'll check to make sure Snape's not in earshot first."

"Snape insulted you just as much," Hermione sniffed. "He as much as called you a Squib."

"I'm used to that," Neville said. "It doesn't bother me anymore." Actually, it bothered him more than he wanted to let on. The subject of his potential Squibness had always been a sore topic for him, even after he finally began showing signs of magical ability. "I know better than that now. I may not be the world's most talented wizard, but at least I am one. I remember how worried Gran and the rest of the family was when I was younger." He forked a piece of ham into his mouth and closed his eyes in bliss. The ham and mustard together was sheer culinary perfection.

"Snape called you a Squib?" Ginny's brows drew together in indignation. "That's low, even for him. If you ever want a Bat Bogey Hex thrown at him, I'm at your service."

"I'll keep that in mind," Neville said, warmed by her unquestioning support. If only...

He banished the thought before it could completely form. Susan deserved better, even if he didn't share what she apparently felt towards him.

Ron steered the conversation to Quidditch, always a safe topic at the Gryffindor table, and the remainder of the meal passed uneventfully.

Herbology was next, then Charms. Fortunately, no disasters occurred save for the insane amounts of homework assigned for each class. Neville copied the assignments down dutifully, wondering where he would find enough hours in the day to finish it all. Between regular classes, homework, and preparing for the next round in the competition for Quidditch commentator, Neville was amazed he managed to get any sleep at all. He hoped the Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape wouldn't swallow up too much time.

Once Charms was over, Neville hurried back to Gryffindor Tower. He had a little time to spare until dinner and wanted to get a head start on his homework, since there would be little chance of working on any of it that evening. He already wished it was Friday.

Settling into a chair by the window, he pulled out his Transfiguration textbook and opened it. Changing one invertebrate into another was relatively simple. Changing a kitten into a rabbit or a hedgehog into a raven was more challenging, but still within Neville's capabilities. Changing kittens into earthworms, however, was proving to be his undoing. He had managed to perform the transfiguration. Unfortunately, the resulting earthworm had been the same size the kitten had been. He still remembered how it had slithered off his desk and towards Lavender Brown before he could catch it. She had shrieked as though someone had caught her undressed in a ladies changing room. That had been when McGonagall's mouth had compressed into the tightest line Neville had ever seen since coming to Hogwarts.

It had to have something to do with size, he thought, pulling his notes out from his bookbag and scanning them. He must have omitted a step in the process, something small but crucial. Flipping through the textbook, he found the section he sought and began reading.

He was still working on the assignment an hour later when Ron approached. "We're going down to dinner, mate. Are you coming?"

Neville shook his head. "I need to get this finished. Do you think you could bring me a sandwich or something when you get back?"

"No problem." Ron glanced down at the sheets of parchment Neville had scattered across the table and made a face. "Still working out that glitch in Transfiguration, huh? Hermione would probably be willing to help you with that if you asked."

"Thanks, but I think I've almost got it figured out," Neville replied. "I just want to get this done before I do my time with Snape."

Ron nodded and left with Harry and Hermione. Neville was left alone in the common room as the other students went down to dinner. Not long after, he finally made the missing connection that separated a successful Transfiguration from his failed attempt in class earlier that day. Glancing around the empty common room, he saw Hermione's cat Crookshanks curled up in a nearby chair. Pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the unsuspecting cat.

Crookshanks the earthworm was the proper size, Merlin be praised. Crookshanks the cat, however, was not pleased at being disturbed from his nap. As soon as Neville Transfigured him back into his proper form he leaped down from the chair and stalked off towards the girls' dormitory, tail swishing angrily. Neville let him go, pleased with his success. He jotted down a few final notes and began clearing the table as Ron returned with a roast beef sandwich, an apple, and some sugar cookies.

"Crookshanks makes a fine earthworm," Neville said happily, taking the sandwich from Ron and biting into it. "Although I think he'd disagree with that."

"I wouldn't tell Hermione you turned her cat into a worm," Ron said, clearly enjoying the mental image Neville's report gave him. He had never completely warmed to the Gryffindor girl's familiar.

Ron remained with Neville as he ate. He was grateful for the other boy's company, even if it made the time until he had to leave for detention pass faster. At least it was time pleasantly spent; and considering what he had to look forward to, he was more than willing to take whatever pleasure he could find.

Too soon, it was time to go. Sighing regretfully, he left Ron and departed through the portrait-hole, accompanied by the much less cheerful Harry.

"Tell me what you can about the Order," Neville said as soon as they were in the corridor. "I can't believe my Gran never mentioned it to me, especially since Mum and Dad were members once."

"She probably doesn't know it's been re-formed," Harry replied. "It's a secret group, remember? They probably have members who don't even know they're members yet." Neville chuckled at the notion, and even Harry managed to crack a smile.

The next few minutes were educational. Harry told him everything he could recall about the Order: its history, past members and their fates, current members; and what very little Harry had been able to learn about the group's doings since Voldemort's return.

"Hermione could probably tell you more," Harry said as they came to a stop outside of Sybilla Snape's office. "I'll tell Professor Snape why you can't come tonight. Somehow, I have a feeling that if she gets mad at anyone, it won't be you."

"I'll apologize to her after class tomorrow, anyway," Neville replied. "It's my fault I couldn't come. Good luck with your lesson."

Leaving Harry behind, Neville hurried towards the dungeons and Snape's office. He arrived a few minutes before seven. Standing before the door, he straightened his shoulders, set his expression into determined lines, and knocked. Ignoring his inner tremors, he entered the office and closed the door quietly behind him.

"Professor? I'm here for my detention."

"Sit down," a cold voice said from a dark corner of the gloom-shrouded room. Snape emerged from the shadows, stepping into a small pool of candlelight. "We have a long evening ahead of us, something that grieves me as much as it undoubtedly does you."

Neville stifled a groan, his thoughts flickering momentarily towards the stack of homework waiting for him in his dorm. It would be midnight before he saw his bed again. Stiffly, he moved further into the room and sat down in front of Snape's desk, watching warily as the Potions master took his seat on the opposite side. Silence reigned for a long moment. Neville forced himself into stillness, waiting for the professor to speak.

"Do you know what Legilimency is, Longbottom?" Snape asked suddenly.

"No, Professor." Neville couldn't stop himself from licking his lips from nerves. "I've heard of it, though."

"The Dark Lord is a skilled Legilimens," Snape continued as though Neville hadn't spoken. "He can almost always tell when someone is lying to him, whether it is voiced or a lie of omission. The simpleminded would call it mind-reading, though Legilimency is much more complicated than merely reading thoughts. He can see things; know things that another person may not even be aware of themselves." His dark gaze caught Neville's, pinning him like a specimen in an insect collection. "Your little nocturnal adventure last night was more dangerous for you than you could ever imagine."

"I didn't mean to," Neville whispered. "I don't know how it happened, or why it did. I don't want to be like Harry, Professor. I don't want to dream like he does." He blinked, suddenly afraid that he wouldn't be spending the evening doing lines after all. "Why are you telling me this, sir?"

"Use your brain, Longbottom! What did I just tell you?"

"That You Know Who is a Legilimens who can see things..." Neville caught his breath, staring at Snape in horror. "You're saying that if I dream through Bellatrix's eyes again, he might know I'm there even if she doesn't. He might be able to get to me through her. He might be able to get to..." Oh, Merlin. Voldemort could get to Harry! "You're going to teach me Occlumency, aren't you," he said. It wasn't a question. He found himself envying Crabbe and Goyle for a brief, dark moment. He thought that an evening gutting horned toads was preferable.

"So you can think. I do wonder about it sometimes." Snape leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the desk. "To answer your question; yes, I will be teaching you Occlumency. For this evening, anyway. Hopefully, you will prove to be somewhat better at it than Potter, though I highly doubt it."

Refusing to rise to Snape's jibe, Neville only took a deep, steadying breath before forcing himself to meet the professor's icily disdainful gaze. "What do I have to do, sir?"

Whatever Snape had been expecting, acquiescence had not been on the list of possibilities. "Do you trust me, Longbottom?" he asked, honestly puzzled.

"Not really," Neville replied, equally honest. "I don't have much choice though, sir." During the short trip to the Dark Arts professor's office, Harry had informed him of Snape's role in the Order. Neville had been disbelieving, but Snape's speech about Voldemort's skills in Legilimency had done a great deal to change his mind. That was something Snape didn't need to know, however.

"Stand up, Longbottom, and take out your wand. I assume you remembered to bring it with you?"

He had. Pulling it out, he glanced apprehensively at Snape's own wand. "What now, Professor?"

"I want you to attempt to clear all thought and emotion from your mind," Snape said, his tone becoming almost business-like. "I am going to try to break into your thoughts, and you will try to resist my doing so. You may use your wand to defend yourself, or to disarm me. Three...two...one...Legilimens."

Neville staggered backwards, only he was no longer standing in Snape's office. Instead he found himself surrounded by rapidly flashing memories, each so vivid it seemed he was living them over again as if for the first time.

...he was five, trying to help Gran bake gingerbread and spilling flour all over the kitchen floor instead...he was flailing in the water off Blackpool Pier, desperately afraid he was going to drown...he was crouched over Hermione's unconscious body, feeling for a pulse in her wrist...he was eleven and jumping up and down excitedly, showing off the acceptance letter he had just received from Hogwarts...he was placing the broken pieces of his father's wand into the same keepsake box he used for the sweets wrappers his mother gave him every time he visited her and crying as he did...

Dim outrage surged through him. That's private...he has no right...he has no RIGHT!

He found himself back in Snape's office, gasping for breath. He looked up at Snape, his eyes widening when he caught sight of the black scorch mark on the wall behind the professor. He was almost positive it hadn't been there earlier.

"Did I do that?" he squeaked, pointing at the mark.

Snape's face, paler than normal, flushed angrily. "I said disarm or defend, Longbottom," he said, his voice shaking only slightly. "I never gave permission to incapacitate or kill!"

"I didn't mean to!" Neville retorted. "Sir."

Snape turned to look at the blackened stones, the corners of his mouth turning down. With a wave of his wand, the scorch mark vanished. He turned back towards Neville, his expression once again schooled to impassivity. "That was an...interesting first attempt. What prompted you to use the Incendio hex?"

"I was angry," Neville said slowly. "I thought you were seeing something you weren't meant to see. I never meant to hurt anyone, though. I'm sorry." He cocked his head to one side, curious. "What did you see, exactly? Sir."

"Flashes. Spilled flour, a broken wand, an unconscious girl...who was she?"

Neville was still too shaken from his first Occlumency attempt to prevaricate. "Hermione Granger. She was hurt."

"I see." Snape grew distant as momentary reverie took him. "Yes, I see." His gaze sharpened. "We'll try this again. Close your eyes and clear your mind, Longbottom. Let go of all anger, all emotion, all thought and feeling. Your mind is empty, void, nothing. Let there be nothing."

Neville obeyed. He concentrated on the swirling patterns of light behind his closed lids and tried not to think of anything but the patterns, the patterns, the pretty swirls and colors in the patterns...

"Legilimens."

The patterns exploded into fragments of light and color, resolving themselves into scenes from the past. Such vivid memories...

...he was on the Hogwarts Express, going from compartment to compartment and asking whether or not anyone had seen his toad...he was digging in the garden, letting the rich soil sift through his fingers...

I'm not supposed to see this...

...he was in Potions, covered in boils ---I don't see this--- and moaning from the pain of it...

Patterns...pretty patterns...come back, patterns...

...he was stroking Winston's feathers for the first time...

...not there...nothing...it's nothing...

"It's nothing," he whispered fiercely. "It's nothing." He was back in Snape's office, standing with every muscle in his body tied into knots of strain, his hands rolled into such tight fists that his knuckles were the color of bone and every sinew stood out in sharp relief.

"That was much improved," Snape said, sounding surprised. "How long did it take for you to find your toad?"

"I don't know," Neville replied distantly, still trying to relax. "Half an hour, maybe. It seemed like forever at the time." He looked up. "Was that all you saw?"

"Dirt and feathers. Nothing more." Snape lowered his wand. "You still did not empty your mind. I could sense your memories, your feelings. So, we'll try this again. Legilimens!"

The attack this time came without warning. Neville felt something in his mind, a push, and what feeble defenses remained shattered in its wake, releasing a flood of darkness.

...he was struggling against Harry and Ron, trying to break free so he could throw himself at Malfoy and pound his face into a bloody pulp...

...he was accepting yet another wrapper from his mother to add to his growing collection...

...he was cradling Trevor's mangled body in his hands...

...he was watching as Ginny and Dean kissed in the common room, consumed with jealousy...

...he was falling from Great-Uncle Algie's grip, watching the ground rush up to meet him and knowing he was going to die screaming...

...he was screaming as Bellatrix Lestrange performed the Cruciatus Curse on him, her heavy-lidded eyes avid as he convulsed under waves of coruscating agony he hadn't known existed or was possible...

Neville found himself lying on the floor of Snape's office, curled up into a ball much like he had been at the Ministry, only this time with no one to hold him up, spitting curses and threats and choked, angry sobs. He tasted blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue in his fall.

Feeling as though he'd just been beaten with clubs, Neville struggled to rise. He was surprised to see a long-fingered hand extend towards him, but didn't reject the unspoken offer of assistance. Grasping Snape's hand with his own, he got to his feet, swaying slightly.

"Sit down." Snape's voice was strangely gentle as he guided Neville towards the nearest chair. "I'll bring some water."

Running shaking fingers through his hair, Neville tried to collect himself. Those last memories were among his worst, memories he had locked away in the deepest recesses of his mind. They were memories he tried hardest to forget, or at least contain; and Snape had extracted them as easily as yolk from an eggshell. He was absolutely pathetic at Occlumency, he thought. He had to learn, though. He had no choice.

He felt a cup being pressed into his hand, and his fingers curled around it reflexively as he brought it to his lips. He drained the contents without tasting it, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and set the cup on Snape's desk. The professor, he noted, was sitting down as well, his eyes dark and assessing as he watched Neville try to regain his equilibrium.

"I'm feeling better," Neville lied. "Let's try it again."

Shock flickered across Snape's face and was gone. After a long moment he shook his head. "Not tonight. You've learned something of what it would be like, if you ever found yourself in the Dark Lord's presence."

"But I have to learn it," Neville insisted. "Professor Snape, I have to!"

"Yes, you do," Snape replied. His voice remained like nothing Neville had ever heard before. It was a moment before he realized that it held no trace of contempt or scorn, no notes of mockery or condescension. "However, Occlumency is not something one can learn in a single evening. It is a branch of magic that takes years of practice to master and perfect. You must learn to clear your mind, Longbottom. Once you master that step, the rest will eventually fall into place."

"But how?" Neville leaned forward. "How do I clear my mind?"

Snape said nothing for a long moment, instead staring at Neville with his usual cold, fathomless gaze. Neville stared back, unflinching. After his last, disastrous attempt at shielding his mind, meeting Snape's eyes was a simple matter.

"I'd wondered," Snape murmured. "I believe I begin to understand. Sit back in your seat and close your eyes." Deliberately, he laid his wand down on the desk.

Neville closed his eyes.

"I want you to pretend that you are a tree. It doesn't matter what kind of tree, just that you are one. Feel your branches reaching towards the sky, feel your roots deep in the ground. Feel your breathing; in through the mouth, out through the nose. Concentrate on your breathing. Concentrate on its rhythm, its cadence."

On a whim, Neville decided he wanted to be a willow. Willows could bend without breaking, and Neville didn't want to be broken. He did as instructed, concentrating on his breathing. It felt strange. Breathing was something one didn't usually pay attention to, it was something done automatically, without thought.

"Let your mind empty," Snape said softly. "When the thoughts come, let them go like wind through the branches. Breathe in, and let your branches stretch towards the sunlight. Breathe out, and let your roots dig in further, finding strength in the earth. Breathe in the wind. Breathe out your thoughts, your feelings, your memories. There is only your breath."

Neville breathed. After a few minutes, he thought he could feel his mind slowly begin to clear. The pain and terror from earlier diminished, becoming farther away with each breath he took. His body gradually relaxed, becoming more pliant, becoming the strong, resilient branches of a willow.

"Open your eyes," Snape said quietly. "How do you feel?"

Neville considered the question, still feeling far away and detached. "Better," he said at last. "Emptier."

"Good. I want you to practice this exercise every night before you go to bed. Practice every time you feel yourself under duress, every time you are under strain. It will become easier with time." Abruptly, Snape rose from his chair. "You are dismissed."

Slowly, Neville got up. Remembering to tuck his wand back into a pocket in his robe, he moved towards the door before turning around. "Professor?"

"What is it now, Longbottom?" Neville almost smiled. This was the Snape he knew.

"Thank you."

Snape waved a hand, brushing off the show of gratitude, and Neville went out into the corridor, where he almost collided with Snape's sister.

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom! Mr. Potter told me you had detention this evening. Did he just now let you out?"

"Yes. I'm sorry about the detention, Professor. I promise it won't happen again. I'll be able to come Friday like I'm supposed to so I can continue lessons."

Professor Snape's face became perfectly blank. "Continue?" she asked.

"He started teaching me Occlumency tonight," Neville explained. "I should warn you, I'm pretty awful at it."

To his surprise, Professor Snape pushed past him, striding towards her brother's office. "Severus!" she shouted. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Mr. Longbottom is my charge, my responsibility. Not yours!" The door slammed behind her as she entered the room, though Neville could still hear their heated voices.

Bemused, Neville thought he understood now what a turkey wishbone felt like. Leaving the Snape siblings to their argument, he started back to Gryffindor Tower, hoping he still had time to finish at least some of his homework before he went to bed.