Neville's Sacrifice

Chapter Thirteen

The soft sound of Neville's eagle feathered quill scratching numbers and totals onto the off white piece of parchment that lay on the desk before him was drowned out by the noisy clacking of an ancient black and gold typewriter with ivory keys. This sat on a small table to the right of him, typing out long lists of things that needed to be ordered.

He had nearly finished adding up his figures when he heard a loud screech. Neville's eyes flew up from the figures he had been writing. He quickly looked to where the noise had come from and was annoyed to see a large, unmoving lump in the middle of the Devil's Snare.

"Oh no! Not again!" Neville said, exasperated. "This is the second time this week that they've got something! If the money for their sap wasn't so good, I'd get rid of the lot of them."

He pushed back his heavy wooden chair, rose from his desk and quickly made his way towards the door.

It's probably Jebidious, Neville thought to himself, you'd think he'd have learnt after the first two times it happened not to get so close to it.

His heavy work boots slapped against the black and red brick as he rushed towards the snakelike bush.

Reaching the plant, he grabbed one of the largest vines and pulled hard, trying to free the unlucky Jebidious from the bush's deadly embrace.

"Jebidious! Jebidious! Are you in here again? How many times do I have to tell you, don't get too close to this thing!" Neville exclaimed, in a half anxious, half annoyed voice.

Sweat trickled down his back as he pulled as hard as he could, the rough fibres of the plant cutting burn marks into his hand.

"I had a lot of things I had to get done today! And they didn't include," Here Neville gave a mighty pull on the vine he held in his hand, "Rescuing you! Again!"

The strength of his pull had moved the vine away slightly. As it did, he glimpsed a flash of gold against a ghostly pale hand.

Terror filled his body as he recognized the ring that he had given Ginny just a few short months ago.

Screaming incoherently, his face covered in a mixture of mist and tears, Neville reached inside the Devil's Snare and grabbed Ginny's hand.

As her icy hand touched his warm one, panic overtook him. He reached deeper into the plant, planning to grab her arm to pull her out, but the insidious fingers of the plant only wrapped more insistently around its prey.

The plant held Ginny tightly as Neville clawed at the ropey vines that held her. He tore at them, his nails breaking and tearing off, the coppery smell of his blood mixing with that of the Devil Snare's sap.

The more he pulled, the tighter the deadly grip of the plant became. He could see the rope-like vines cutting deeper into the soft skin of her arms, as the plant struggled to keep its serpentine grip.

A cold wave of helplessness engulfed him. Nothing he was doing was working!

He stopped pulling on her and just stood there holding Ginny's icy hand in his clammy one, in a panic, not knowing what to do.

Suddenly he remembered the Weed-B-Gone that was kept for sale at the front of the greenhouse.

He stood there a few more seconds, reluctant to let Ginny's hand go. Then finally he knew there was nothing else he could do and he released it gently. As it fell limply from his hands one of the Devil's Snares tendrils made a grab for it and greedily brought it back inside its insidious lair.

Neville ran in a panic towards the front of the green house, his heart pounding against his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Although it was only a few feet it felt like a marathon to him. His breath came in short sharp pants; the only thought in his mind was Ginny! Oh God Ginny no! I can't lose her, I can't lose her!

He reached the glass and wood counter at the front of the greenhouse. Neville kneeled down before the locked glass windows of the cabinet. Reaching into his pocket, his hands grabbed a large set of iron keys. In his panic he fumbled the keys and almost dropped them onto the compost strewn floor. Precious seconds were wasted as he searched through the keys, desperate to find the one that fit the cabinet lock.

Having finally found the right one, Neville brought it up to the heavy iron lock. The tip of the key chattered and scratched against the face of the lock, Neville's hands too shaky to make contact.

For a second his mind was filled with the unimaginable thought that the key wasn't going to fit, that it was the wrong one!

The tip of the key finally entered the lock. Neville felt a surge of relief. As he went to turn the key, his trembling fingers lost their grip and the heavy set of keys fell crashing to the floor.

He threw himself painfully upon his knees and began scrabbling around, desperate to find them.

Compost and blood stained his skin as he frantically dug in the soft soil.

Unable to find the keys, Neville stared at the Weed-B-Gone behind the glass, so close but so unreachable, almost taunting him in his despair.

Suddenly he heard the high pitched noise of metal being crushed.

Neville shot to his feet in horror and stared at the snaking shrub. Just visible was one of the wheels of Ginny's chair, bent almost beyond recognition.

The blood began pumping in his ears, his body cold with terror. Neville let out a visceral scream then, kneeling back before the cabinet, he brought his hand back and slammed it as hard as he could into the glass.

Razor sharp shards of blood splattered glass littered the greenhouse floor.

Neville, unaware and uncaring of his own pain, reached into the now open cabinet and grabbed the green and orange container. Turning quickly, he sprinted back to where his beloved lay.

He uncapped the heavy container, ready to pour the lethal liquid upon his herbaceous adversary.

All of a sudden, thick vines shot out from the plant, coiling themselves around his arms, as if they knew what he had in store for them and were intent on stopping him.

As Neville struggled to free his arms, large drops of the poison sloshed out of the top of the container, mixing with his blood to fall like crimson rain upon Ginny and the plant beneath him.

The struggle continued, more poison splashing down onto the base of the plant and soaking into the dark rich soil.

Black fingers of decay crept their way across the plant's vines as the poison infected it.

He poured until every last drop was gone. Then he threw the container to the side. He then began furiously pulling at the vines and tendrils of the now dying plant. They came away easily in his hand, their deadly grasp broken.

The plant shrank back into itself, collapsing like a deflated balloon until it was nothing more than a pile of dead brown leaves. As it did, it released its murderous grip on Ginny and she rolled off onto the floor.

Although Ginny was a small woman, the weight of her motionless body caused Neville to stagger and almost fall as he lifted her from where she lay.

Her head lolled up on his shoulder, brown eyes open and staring. Angry red lines ran around her neck.

Neville's panic escalated as he felt the coldness of the body that he held in his arms and the way Ginny's eyes stared unblinkingly into the distance.

He brought one of his hands up to her face and began to rub it, hoping that it would somehow revive her.

As he rubbed he talked to her, an incoherent rambling of fear.

"Oh God Ginny! No! No! Ginny, speak to me! Come on Ginny....come on...you've got to be okay...I can't live without you!"

Neville gently, but quickly, carried Ginny to the fireplace. Carefully he reached up to the jar kept on the mantel. He removed a bit of the glowing green powder, letting the rest of the jar crash to the ground. Throwing the powder into the fire he stepped inside the fireplace. His voice was choked with emotion as he said, "St. Mungos"