Becoming Neville

Neville did not immediately have time to investigate Hermione's discoveries about Dr. Driftwood, for the sage had grown, and a day was set when they would perform the banishment spell and purification charm.

Neville woke on the appointed morning nervous but excited. They had rehearsed the steps the previous night, and he'd run over the words of the spell, envisioning each act in his mind. He knew exactly what to do.

But that confidence didn't keep him from being anxious. As he and Harry headed downstairs for breakfast, his knees shook with each step. "I don't know if I can eat anything," he moaned, clutching his stomach.

Harry grinned at him. "Don't worry, Neville, you'll do fine."

"But what if I throw up in the middle of the ritual? That just can't be good."

"Remember my first Quidditch match? I couldn't eat a bite that morning. I was so worked up, I thought I'd fall off my broom. But I ended up winning the game."

"I remember that game," he said weakly.

"So you see? It's natural to be nervous, but that doesn't mean you're going to mess up. I know you'll do well, Neville. I believe in you."

They paused outside the kitchen door, and Harry gave Neville's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. A bit of the tension leached out of his stomach, replaced by a blossoming warmth. Harry Potter believed in him. Harry Potter, who'd fought against You-Know-Who himself, who won the Triwizard Tournament and could produce a patronus and was a champion seeker. Harry Potter, who might be That Way and who kissed him every night, with tongues. Harry Potter believed in him. He just might survive this ritual after all.

Smiling shyly at Harry, Neville pushed open the kitchen door. But the sight that met his eyes dissolved all his confidence as quickly as a riddikulus charm could banish a boggart.

Professor Severus Snape sat at the kitchen table with Remus, calming sipping a cup of tea. Remus smiled as they entered. "Good morning, boys."

Neville was going to die in a humiliating and messy way. He ought to just kill himself right now and spare himself the embarrassment.

Beside him, Harry growled, "What is *he* doing here?"

Snape looked up from his tea with a sneer, and Remus awkwardly cleared his throat before regaining his composure and saying, "Professor Snape asked to observe the ritual. Since I know how ready the both of you are," he stressed, gazing earnestly at them as if to assure them of his confidence, "I'm sure you'll be happy to demonstrate your abilities in front of one of your professors."

Neville was dying already. He could feel the gangrene eating at his intestines.

"But- but-," Harry sputtered.

"Calm down, Harry," Remus cautioned. "You're making Neville nervous."

"*I'm* not the one he's nervous about!"

Rigor mortis had definitely begun to set in. He could no longer feel his legs below the knees.

"Come now, gentlemen," Snape said with a smile like a kelpie about to snare a victim. "Mr. Lupin has been telling me all about the preparations you've made. I've reviewed your plans, and he tells me you've been practicing. I am simply here to observe and marvel at your prowess. If you are as prepared as he says you are, I shall indeed be...," his grin showed a disturbing amount of teeth, "...amazed."

A whimper escaped Neville, and he prayed that an earthquake would hit London and swallow him up.

Taking his arm, Harry steered him toward a chair on the other side of the table from Snape. "You're right," he said with an air of bravado. "Neville's ready. He's going to knock your socks off!"

Snape smirked. "Won't that be a thrill?"

Neville collapsed into his chair, barely able to move his limbs. Harry filled a bowl full of Witchabix, doused it in milk, and placed the lot in front of Neville. The sight of the soggy biscuit made him want to vomit. Desperately he looked away, and his eyes met Remus's, who gave him a sort of half-apologetic smile. It didn't make him feel any better.

"Neville's going to do really well," Harry commented as he shoveled food into his mouth. "He's brilliant with herbs. That sage he grew - it's really -," he waved his spoon as if he could scoop the world he wanted right out of the air, "- green," he finished emphatically.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Fascinating. Of course, it is a plant, so one would expect it to be green. However, in my experience sage ought to be on the silvery side, so perhaps its greenness is not a good sign."

"That's what it is!" Harry protested. "It's silvery green!"

Neville desperately wished Harry would just shut up.

"Very Slytherin colors," observed Snape. "How sporting of you."

Remus cleared his throat, noisily and at length. Snape turned to stare at him, remarking, "Why, Lupin, you should take care. You seem to have caught a cough."

"Yes, a summer cough, no doubt due to all the hot air blowing about."

Snape smirked and said nothing, mercifully returning to his tea.

The rest of the meal passed with rather strange, slightly sniping small talk between Lupin and Snape, while Harry attacked his breakfast with the intensity of a Viking preparing for a long day of pillaging and plundering, and Neville fretted that his Witchabix seemed to be mocking him.

When the meal was finished, and all the dishes washed and put away, the four of them headed up to the laboratory. Harry grabbed Neville's sleeve and pulled him up the stairs, whispering fierce encouragement in his ear which Neville couldn't even hear over the rush of his rising panic.

With a final friendly grin at Neville, Harry pushed open the door and they entered the laboratory. The freshly-scrubbed walls, floor, and yes, even ceiling, all gleamed in the faint morning light coming in from the covered windows. The furniture had been removed, and nothing remained in the room but a few shelves on the walls, and the materials for the banishment spell and purification charm.

"All right, Neville," Remus said with a warm smile. "You know what to do."

Snape stood next to Remus, arms folded across his chest, his face void of any expression, which was an improvement over his usual scowl. Harry bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, a bundle of kinetic energy, like a snitch waiting to be released before a Quidditch match. Neville closed his eyes, forcing all three of them out of his mind. He visualized the opening steps again, moving his lips as he silently recited the words of the spell. Then he took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and began.

He knelt by the small brazier that stood in the center of the room, placing several chips of holly wood in it, ignoring the three pairs of eyes that watched his every move. No need to rush. If he rushed, he'd fumble and forget things. He kept his movements slow but steady. When the wood chips were arranged to his satisfaction, he struck a match and set it to the tinder, blowing on the chips as the fire caught and curled along the edges.

When the fire was going strong, he turned and picked up the bowl of ground bloodstone. His eyes swept briefly over Harry and Remus, who were smiling and nodding in encouragement, to land on Snape. Something dark flashed in the professor's eyes, and Neville quickly looked away. He would *not* let Snape get to him. He had designed the ritual himself. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Bowl in hand, he got to his feet and began sprinkling a thin border of powder around the edge of the room. He tapped the bowl lightly, spilling the powder with care. There could be no breaks in the circle.

"Must you work so slowly?" Snape grumbled. "At this rate, we'll all be older than Dumbledore before you finish laying the powder."

Neville ducked his head as Remus said, "You're doing fine, Neville. Take as long as you need."

Snape heaved an impatient sigh, and Neville tried to ignore him. But his hands began to sweat, and his fingers slipped against the smooth brass bowl. He had to pause and wipe his hands on his shirt before continuing.

He finished one wall and had started on another when Snape strode up to inspect his handiwork. The potions master knelt and extended a bony finger toward the powder.

"Don't touch it!" Harry snapped. "You can't disturb the circle!"

Snape's head whipped around to face him. "I know that, Potter! I'm not the one whose clumsiness could jeopardize this spell."

*Ignore him, ignore him,* Neville chanted to himself. *Harry believes in me. Remus believes in me.* He kept tapping on the bowl, pouring out a steady trickle of powder.

"Severus," Remus warned.

"Who ground this bloodstone?"

"Me and Neville did!" Harry said.

"Mean Neville, is it?" Snape scoffed. "Well, mean Neville did a poor job. The grain should be fine and consistent. This looks like you took a sledgehammer to the stones."

"Severus," Remus said again, his voice low. "What are you doing?"

"It's obvious what he's doing," Harry fumed. "He's trying to make Neville nervous!"

Neville glanced up to see Remus staring strangely at Snape. "Professor Snape would not do that."

"He does it in class all the time!"

Again, in that low voice, Remus said, "He would not sabotage this ritual."

Snape scowled. "I am not the one in danger of sabotaging it! You're the one who put an idiot child in charge!"

"How dare you!" Harry shouted.

"Harry, be silent," Remus commanded. He glanced over at Neville, who had stopped working and was watching them. "Continue with the ritual, Neville, and don't lose your concentration, no matter what happens. Understood?"

Remus spoke with an authority that Neville had never quite heard from him before. Remus's command somehow overrode his fear of Snape, and he bent once more to his task.

"Honestly, Lupin," he heard Snape hiss, "you can't expect that squib to succeed."

"Don't you--!"

"Harry! Be silent!" Remus ordered. "Severus, something is wrong."

Neville glanced quickly over his shoulder to see Remus physically holding Harry back, while his eyes remained steadily fixed on Snape. He tried to shut them out of his thoughts and focus on the powder.

"Something is indeed wrong when Longbottom is in charge," Snape continued.

"No, Severus, something is wrong with *you.*"

"Oh? And how is it my fault that the boy is a failure?"

"You would not say such things, Severus." Remus's voice was low and firm.

"Yes, he would!" Harry interjected.

"Harry!" came the rebuke. Then, his voice gaining intensity: "Severus would not sabotage the ritual."

"I am not-," Snape began.

"You would not say and do such things, Severus. You would stop this."

"You don't know what--." Abruptly, Snape cut himself off.

Neville fought the urge to turn around and see what was happening. Instead he focused on the powder, finished with the second wall and starting on the third.

He heard several harsh panting breaths, and then Snape spoke. But the cruel edge in his voice was gone. "There are spirits here," he said to Remus. "They were controlling me, but I threw them out of my mind. Was Black's father a necromancer?"

"I don't know," answered Remus.

"He must have been. This room contains the spirits of the dead that he summoned. Longbottom!"

Neville jumped and almost dropped the bowl. He turned to see Snape glaring intently at him, but not in anger.

"Longbottom, continue with the ritual. We *must* banish these spirits, or they will keep attacking us."

"Why do you care?" Harry snapped. "You *want* Neville to fail."

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter."

"You've *always* wanted him to fail. You pick on him all the time, but the truth is you're a rotten teacher!"

"Harry!" Remus barked. "That's enough!"

Harry turned on Remus. "Why did you bring him here? He can't be trusted."

The venom in Harry's voice was shocking. Neville knew he hated Snape, but he couldn't believe Harry had the nerve to speak to a teacher like that. He paused in his work, glancing anxiously at Harry.

"Loathsome, miserable failure!" Harry sneered.

"Harry," Remus said, astonished.

But Snape watched Harry with wary eyes. He raised a warning hand toward Remus. "Lupin," he cautioned, "be careful."

"What?" Remus asked, confused, but in that moment of distraction, Harry seized Remus's wand from his pocket and pointed it at Snape. Half a second later, Snape had his own wand out, and the two of them faced off against each other. Neville froze.

"Harry!" Remus called out, but Harry only cackled.

"Are you threatening me, Snape? Do you really think I would be afraid of you? I've faced the Dark Lord himself! You're just a pathetic excuse for a Death Eater."

Wand held defensively before him, Snape said, "Potter, the spirits are in you now. Fight them off."

"Don't be ridiculous! I don't need any spirits to make me hate you, and I certainly don't need them to help me kill you." Harry's eyes narrowed, and he flicked his wand at Snape. "I could kill you easily, and the world would thank me for it."

Not letting down his guard, Snape said, "Remember your occlumency lessons, Potter!"

"Oh yes, the lessons *you* stopped giving me, even after Dumbledore ordered you. Really, you must be the worst teacher in the entire history of Hogwarts."

"Potter, concentrate. Throw them out."

"Why don't you attack me, Severus? Is it that you know you can't defeat me?"

Snape paused. "Who are you? Potter would never call me Severus."

"Oh, clever," Harry sneered. "You always were bright. Too bad your intelligence didn't translate into bravery. You feared the Dark Lord, and now you're frightened even of this little boy."

"I am not frightened."

"Then why don't you attack?"

"I will not harm a student."

"Funny, when I knew you, you had no qualms about hurting people. And this boy especially - Potter's son. Wouldn't it serve the arrogant bastard right for you to murder his brat?"

"You know nothing about what I want."

Harry's lips curled in a vicious smile. "Oh, don't I?" He glanced slyly at Remus. "Been cozying up to the enemy lately, have you? Think you'll make a new playmate?"

Snape's face darkened with rage, and he clutched his wand so hard it bowed from the strain. "Silence!" he hissed furiously.

"O-ho! I've hit close to the mark, haven't I?"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

Snape raised his wand to strike, and Remus frantically called out, "Severus!"

"'Severus', is it, werewolf?" cackled Harry. "Disgusting half-breed! Wasn't it enough for you to ensnare my brother? But then, he always did like wild things."

Comprehension dawned on Snape's face, and he visibly struggled to regain his control. "Regulus," he spat.

Harry looked back at him. "That's right, your old schoolmate. Have you missed me all these years?"

"Your father," Snape continued, not answering the question. "He was a necromancer. He conjured your spirit."

"Yes. He was very skilled at conjuring the dead. He did a booming business after the war, working on behalf of pure-blood families who'd lost loved ones at the hands of those Muggle-lovers. The spirit of many a valiant witch and wizard are here, lingering in this room. But I am the strongest. My father conjured me often. I was never so close to him as I was in death. He loved me, unlike your miserable parents. How can it be, Severus, that a pathetic loser like you could still live, while I died? It isn't right." The spirit's hatred gleamed through Harry's eyes. "But I can use this boy to right that wrong." He raised his wand, preparing to throw a curse at Snape.

"No!" Remus called out, raising his hands as if to ward Harry off, but Snape stepped in front of him.

"Potter! Remember your occlumency lessons! You must fight them off! Concentrate!"

"Fortunately for me, you were the boy's teacher. He won't have learned his lessons."

"That's not true. Potter, you were able to throw me out of your mind. You can do it again!"

"No, he--." Harry stopped suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Concentrate, Potter!"

"No - don't!" Harry trembled, gripping Remus's wand so hard he almost broke it in two. With a tremendous groan he shook his head hard. Then he blinked and opened his eyes.

Something like a blast of cold air blew over Neville, and he couldn't move. A voice inside his head said, *Hello, little boy.*

As if from a great distance, he watched Snape and Remus cautiously reach out to Harry, heard Harry say that he'd been controlled by the spirits.

*That's right,* the voice said. *He's a powerful fellow. Who would have thought he could throw us out? But you're another story, aren't you? We saw Snape's memories: you're little more than a squib. Yes, we're all going to get along just fine.*

*No!* Neville fought to say, but not only would his lips not move, he could scarcely form the thought in his head. Against his will, he set down the bowl and walked unnoticed toward the threesome talking in the center of the room.

*Just watch this, little boy. This is going to be fun!*

Remus finally noticed him. "Neville, go back to work on the ritual. We have to finish--."

"It's all right," the spirits said, speaking through him. "I've got the spirits under control."

Now Harry and Snape looked at him, the potions master frowning. Neville cringed at that look, but his head turned away and his eyes came to rest on Harry. "It's all right, Harry," he said. "It's me. It's Sirius."

*No!* Neville tried to scream, but to no avail. He had no more ability or will than a puppet: the spirits controlled him completely.

Harry's eyes grew round, and Remus too looked stricken, but Snape said, "Don't listen to him. The spirits are in him."

"Yes, they're here," Neville said, "but I've got control of them. They can't do anything."

"It's a lie," warned Snape.

Neville's eyes remained fixed on Harry. "No, Harry, it really is me. It's so good to talk to you. I've missed you so much."

Harry's lip trembled, and Neville despaired at the sight. *How can you deny him this moment?* the spirit taunted him. *See how he misses my dear brother? We can tell him exactly what he wants to hear. And not only him.*

Neville's gaze turned to Remus. "And you, Moony, my dear friend."

That name - Moony - Neville had heard it before, but he couldn't remember where. Yet at the name, Remus's breath quickened, and a look of desperate longing crossed his features.

"I've missed you both so much. I've watched you suffer. I wanted so badly to talk to you, to tell you it's not your fault. You mustn't blame yourselves for my death."

Neville could only watch as both Harry and Remus absorbed his words eagerly. But Snape was not fooled.

"Do not listen to him. That is not Sirius Black." He raised his wand, preparing to cast a spell on Neville.

"Expelliarmus!"

Snape's wand flew out of his hand and straight into Harry's palm. Snape wheeled on him. "Potter, give me my wand back!"

"No! You were going to hurt him."

"I won't hurt him. I'll only silence him."

"No, I want to hear him speak!" Harry protested.

Snape turned on Remus. "Lupin, you must realize that cannot possibly be Sirius Black!"

"But I am!" Neville said. "I'll prove it. Harry, do you remember the gift I gave you at Christmas? The two-way mirror?"

"Yes!" Harry said. "I never used it. I wish I had."

"I do, too," Neville said kindly.

Tears stood in Harry's eyes. "I've tried calling to you since, but you're not there. I've looked everywhere in this house for your portrait."

"I know you have. I've watched you."

Harry's eyes were filled with such love, Neville couldn't bear to see it, but the spirits would not let him look away.

"I want so much to talk to you," Harry whispered.

"This is our chance."

Snape looked straight at Neville, eyes boring into him, and when he spoke, his voice was strong and powerful, lancing through Neville's mind like a gong and overpowering the spirits. "Longbottom, I know your Defense class learned how to resist Imperius. This is the same! Throw them out of-"

*Silence!* the spirit voices roared. *You can't resist, little boy. You'll crack, just like your parents did.*

Neville wanted to weep, wanted to dig his own eyes out and tear out his tongue in order to get rid of these spirits. But he was powerless. He wasn't strong like Snape or Harry. He could do nothing.

As they continued to control him, and his gaze turned relentlessly to Remus. "And you, dear friend. Moony. I have so much to say to you."

Remus hung back, uncertain.

"I know the last few months were hard. I did not treat you well. You have no idea how much I regret that. But never doubt how much I love you. How much I've always loved you."

The lying words broke through Remus's composure. His expression crumbled, and he stepped forward. "Oh, Sirius."

But Snape caught his arm, holding him back. "It isn't him!"

Remus shook his head. "But he knows!

"They do *not* know! They got that information from my mind or from Potter's."

Neville spoke up. "You see how he continues to distrust me? Some things never change."

Remus regarded him, torn between hope and fear. "Sirius...."

Still Snape held him back. "Test him, Lupin. Ask him something only you and Sirius Black would know."

As Remus hesitated, Snape looked to Neville once more, his commanding voice slicing deeply into Neville's mind. "Longbottom, the Imperius--!"

*Out! He is ours!*

Neville tried to wrestle his mind free of them but he couldn't do it. It was so much easier just to let them have their way.

*That's right, little boy,* the spirits taunted. *Just let us handle things. You can't possibly fight us. Longbottoms were always the easiest to overcome.*

No, he knew that wasn't true. His parents had lasted longer than anyone ever had against Cruciatus. They were heroes. Even now, his mother had fought to protect that doll, to protect *him.* He had to throw the spirits out of his mind. *I'm not yours!* Neville thought. *I'm Frank and Alice Longbottom's son!*

*And soon you'll join them in St. Mungo's.*

"Lupin," Snape urged. "Ask him."

Slowly, Remus said, "How - how did you first learn I was a werewolf?"

The hold on Neville's mind weakened slightly as the spirits focused on Remus.

*I am Neville Longbottom!* he thought. He could almost hear his own voice in his head.

But the spirits still controlled him. "Moony, how can you ask about *that*? I don't want to talk about it in front of Snivellus."

Neville concentrated, focusing on the memory of his mother protecting the doll, even as he fought to protect his own mind.

"Tell me," said Remus quietly.

"I don't want to tell *our* secrets in front of *him*."

Harry looked back and forth between Neville and Remus, who said, "You're dead, Sirius. No more secrets now. How did you learn I was a werewolf?"

The spirits kept stalling. "It was a very long time ago."

"Answer the question," Remus ordered.

As the spirits faltered, Neville concentrated hard. *I am Neville Longbotttom!*

"I am--."

*No!* the spirits shrieked. *We control you! Do you remember this, boy?*

Agonizing pain speared through him, like the curse Bellatrix had cast on him. It was the Cruciatus all over again. But this time he refused to fail. He clapped his hands to his head, fighting through the pain to gain control. But it hurt so much.

Harry stepped forward. "Sirius?"

Pain like fire destroying his nerves, but he fought it. *Not Sirius. I am Neville Longbottom!* The thought burned in his mind, licking at the edges of the pain, fire against fire. It felt like his head would explode.

*No!* the spirits cried. *Tell them, you are Sirius Black!*

*I'm not! I am Neville Longbottom!*

"I am Nnnnn--."

White-hot heat built behind his eyes. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. He squeezed his head, trying to keep his brain from shattering.

*We'll kill you! Miserable squib!*

*Not a squib! I am--*

"NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!"

The name ripped out of his throat, and he collapsed on the floor, head pounding in agony. It hurt so much that it took him a moment to realize the spirits were gone. He blinked his eyes open to see Snape bending over him. He was lying on his back on the floor.

"Longbottom, are you all right?"

He grunted, unable to form any words.

Harry hovered over Snape's shoulder, his expression heart-broken. Neville felt so sorry for him. "H-harry."

"Rest a moment, Longbottom," Snape cautioned. "Your nose is bleeding. You may have been injured in the struggle."

He raised a shaking hand to his nose and felt something warm and moist on his upper lip. He looked up to see Remus standing behind Snape, eyes glittering strangely.

"We need to finish the ritual," Snape advised. "Potter, get the bowl and resume laying down the powder."

"But it's Neville's ritual!"

"Potter, do not contradict me! Mr. Longbottom has been through a fierce battle. He is in no shape to continue the spell."

While Snape and Harry argued, Remus knelt down and reached out to Neville, wiping the blood from his upper lip. He raised his hand, intently studying the bright red smear on his fingertip. The look in his eyes frightened Neville.

Remus stuck out his tongue and licked the blood off his finger. Then, so softly that Neville almost couldn't hear it, he growled.

Snape's head whipped around just as Remus leaped at Neville, snarling. Snape threw himself bodily at Remus, and they rolled to the side, grappling for dominance. Harry gasped in alarm and seized Neville's arm, pulling him up and away from the struggling men.

They watched in horror as Remus rolled onto his feet, growling like a wild animal. He seized Snape by the front of his robes and hauled him up, throwing him against the wall. Snape struck out, but Remus didn't seem to feel the blows. He launched himself at Snape, teeth bared as if he would bite. Snape managed to twist away, but Remus grabbed him again and threw him to the ground. Remus was fast and strong, and it was clear Snape could not possibly win this fight.

"Harry!" Neville said. "You have to stop him!"

"How?" Harry asked, panicked.

"You've got their wands!"

Harry stared in surprised at the wands in his hand. "I can't hurt Remus."

"But he's going to kill Professor Snape!"

For a moment, Neville worried Harry might say, "Let him." But after a brief hesitation, Harry stepped forward, raising Remus's wand and pointing it at the two men.

"Petrificus totalus!"

The spell hit Remus square in the back. He stiffened and fell against Snape, who collapsed beneath him. Gasping for breath, Snape pushed Remus off him and staggered to his feet, looking even more pale than usual.

"About time, Potter," he said, his voice trembling. "Boys, you must continue with the ritual. I'll try to get Lupin to cast the spirits out. They're making him think he's a werewolf. But listen - do not finish the spell until Lupin casts the spirits out. If we banish them while they're still in his mind, he could be seriously damaged."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. He turned to Neville. "The fire's dying down. You tend it while I finish laying the powder."

Neville nodded, his head pounding with the movement. He knelt by the brazier as Harry scampered off for the bowl of bloodstone powder. The fire had almost burned out. He lay fresh chips in the fire, while watching Snape crouch over Remus.

Remus lay stiffly on the floor, but he was still conscious, saliva foaming at the corners of his mouth.

Crouched next to him, Snape urged, "Lupin, listen to me. There is no full moon. It's daylight. The spirits are in you, making you *think* you're a werewolf. But you're not. You're a man, and you must take control."

Remus's eyes rolled in his head, but Neville couldn't tell if he even understood what Snape was saying.

"Cast them out, Lupin!" Snape said. "You are not a werewolf! Take control of yourself!"

Neville glanced quickly at Harry, who had finished laying the powder along the third wall and was well on his way to finishing the fourth. The fire was burning well, and Neville held the bundle of sage, waiting to say the final spell and burn the herbs that would banish the spirits.

But the spirits were still in Remus. He lay on the floor, rigid but trembling, his eyes squeezed shut, his breathing labored. A thin trickle of blood leaked from his nose, and Neville wondered if the spirits were hurting Remus as much as they'd hurt him.

A hand seized his shoulder, startling him, and he jumped.

"It's just me," Harry said. "I'm done." Both of them watched Remus, silently urging him on along with Snape.

Blood flowed freely from Remus's nose. Suddenly he stiffened, crying out, and went limp.

Snape turned to Neville and Harry. "Complete the spell, now!"

Furious at the spirits who had attacked them all, determined to protect his friends - even Snape - the way he wanted to protect his parents, Neville drew on every reserve of his power and shouted the incantation. He threw the sage onto the fire and it burst into flames, flaring so brightly Neville had to shield his eyes.

The flame died down, and Neville took a deep breath. The air seemed cleaner somehow, less oppressive.

Snape rose to his feet and approached them, a bruise forming on his cheek where Remus had hit him. He held out his hand. "Potter, my wand."

Without a word, Harry gave it to him, and he turned and pointed it at Remus. "Finite Incantatem." Released from the body bind, Remus heaved a deep breath and rolled over onto his side, curling in on himself.

Snape watched him for a moment, breathing hard as if recovering from a great exertion. Then he turned to Neville. "Salt would not have been strong enough to banish those spirits. You were correct to use bloodstone, Longbottom." His lip curled into a shadow of his usual sneer. "I suppose even you can get something right at least once."

It was no doubt the closest Snape would ever come to paying him a compliment. Neville only wished he wasn't too worn out to savor the moment properly.