Becoming Neville

After they had recounted the whole conversation to Ron, Remus headed back to the house to have tea with Mrs. Weasley. Before long, Ginny went back too, leaving Neville, Harry, and Ron in the woods. The three of them spent some time discussing Hackenbush's experiments, speculating on all kinds of nefarious schemes that Driftwood might be tangled up in, but they really had no firmer idea now than when they started, and the wild theories only furthered Neville's distress.

So the conversation soon turned, as it always did with Ron and Harry, to Quidditch. This left Neville out entirely. It should have been no surprise to him to be ignored by the other two boys, but he had grown accustomed over the summer to having Harry treat him as a peer. This sudden return to his customary role of "that other kid in the dormitory" was a bit disappointing. And it only grew moreso when Ron and Harry decided to return to the house for a round of one-on-one Quidditch. Neville went with them because, well, there was nothing else for him to do. The idea of joining Remus and Mrs. Weasley in the house was not really very appealing. Ginny would certainly be good company, but he didn't want to cede a place as "one of the boys." So he stayed outside and watched Ron and Harry play Quidditch.

The day wore on, and as evening began to fall, Fred and George arrived. For a while they played with Ron and Harry, but eventually they all returned to the ground, and at least Neville was no longer entirely left out.

As the four of them joined Neville on the grass, George said, "You boys need to come visit the shop again. We could really use some fresh victims."

"He means opinions," Fred corrected.

"Same thing. And we still need to introduce you to Miss Emily. You don't want to keep the lovely lady waiting, do you, Harry?"

"We've been telling her all about you, how you're so tall-"

"-or short-"

"-and have lovely blue eyes-"

"-or brown-"

"-and how you're very shy-"

"- or never stop talking-"

"-and the outdoor type-"

"-or else very bookish."

"We haven't exactly got our stories straight."

"But she's dying to meet you."

"Or perhaps she's indifferent."

"But you'll never know unless you try."

Fred grinned at Neville. "And don't worry, Longbottom. We found a girl for you, too."

"She's an accountant at Gringott's," said George.

"But on Saturday nights she's a torchsinger at the Wailing Banshee," added Fred.

George leered. "She's exactly the kind of accountant your grandmother warned you about."

Neville flushed bright red. "No, thank you! I don't want to meet any torchsinging accountants!"

"All right, then. How about Mary the tailor who works at Madam Malkin's? Just think what that girl could do with a tape measure!"

"No! No girls at all, please!"

George gave up and instead threw a wink at Harry, "But you want to meet Miss Emily, don't you?"

Now it was Harry's turn to blush. "Um, no offense, guys, but you two are the last people in the world I would ever want to play matchmaker."

"What?" squawked Fred. "Don't trust our taste?"

"It's more that I don't trust your motives."

They continued to bicker, and Neville was grateful that attention had shifted away from him. The twins were elaborating on the legendary Miss Emily's various endowments, in graphic detail, when Ginny plopped down next to them on the grass, giggling and smiling broadly.

"Go back inside," Ron instructed, who had become increasingly enraptured by his brothers' description. "We're talking guy stuff."

"You're not my mum. Anyway, I don't think I'm wanted inside." She giggled again. "Bill just arrived, and I think he's trying to put the moves on Professor Lupin."

All the boys froze, and Ron looked as if he'd swallowed a worm. "That isn't funny," he managed to squeeze out.

"I never said it was." Ginny grinned wickedly. "I think it's cute."

"Ginny!" Ron squeaked, making shushing gestures. "That's not - Bill isn't --. You shouldn't talk about that!" He cut his eyes in Harry's direction before glaring back at Ginny again.

"Deal with it, Ron," George said. "Our brother's a poof."

Ron looked imploringly at Harry. "Don't listen to them. He is not."

"He is," said Fred.

"Light in the loafers," said George.

"No!" His eyes remained on Harry, as if begging him to agree with him. "It's just something he picked up in Egypt. Bloody foreigners!"

"Oh, Ron," Ginny scowled. "It's not enough that you're sexist, you're also homophobic and racist."

"I'm gonna tell mum you're calling me names!"

"Calm down, Ron," said Fred. "It's not such a big deal."

"And if he has to lift someone's shirt, he could do worse than Professor Lupin," said George.

"Would that make Mr. Moony our brother-in-law?" asked Fred.

"Weird," said George.

"Cool," said Fred.

"Weird in a cool way," said George.

"Or cool in a weird way," answered Fred.

"It is not cool. It's gross. Kissing a guy? That just turns my stomach," Ron said.

Neville stared at the grass, willing himself not to blush or run away. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Harry sitting with his fists clenched tightly against his knees. He wished Harry would say something.

"Well, you don't have to kiss a guy," Ginny pointed out. "This is about Bill, not you. And I think Bill and Professor Lupin together would be cute."

"Ginny, girl," said Fred, "you've been reading too many strange books this summer."

Mustering his dignity, Ron said, "Well anyway, it doesn't matter what Bill wants. Professor Lupin isn't a poof."

Neville bit his tongue, but Ginny answered, "Yes he is. I saw him last summer with--." She froze, her eyes wide as if horrified about what she had been about to reveal.

"What?" Harry asked, his voice strained.

Her eyes widened further, and she didn't say anything.

"You saw it, too?" Fred quietly asked.

"So did we," George added.

Harry's eyes cut to the twins, and something in their fire frightened Neville. "You saw what?"

"Lupin," Fred shrugged, "and Black."

"Moony," George added, "and Padfoot."

Stunned silence. Neville watched everyone's faces while trying not to be noticed. He couldn't interpret Harry's expression. Distressed, certainly, but at what, he couldn't say.

"There's no way," Ron said at last. "There's no way Sirius was a - a --."

"We're just telling you what we saw, little brother."

"I saw it, too," Ginny said.

Harry was breathing hard, eyes lowered. Say something Neville mentally urged him, but Harry remained silent.

"Don't believe it, Harry," Ron said. "It can't be true."

"Ron--," George started.

"Shut up!" Ron yelled. "Just shut up! Haven't you said enough?"

Harry looked like he was going to be ill. Neville didn't feel much better, himself.

His eyes on Harry, Ron addressed his brothers. "Just leave us alone."

Fred and George shrugged and stood up. "Come on, Ginny."

She looked at Neville, her expression concerned. All he could do was stare back as she stood and joined the twins, heading toward the house.

Neville knew he ought to follow them. He wanted nothing more than to hide away somewhere and never emerge. But he was afraid to leave Harry, afraid that Harry would side with Ron, might even start hating Neville for what they'd been doing all summer. Worst of all, he might start hating Remus. He wanted to talk to Harry himself, but he had no idea what he would say. He waited, hoping Harry would give him a hint to stay.

But it was Ron who finally addressed him. "Neville, would you mind?" He nodded toward the house.

Neville looked at Harry, but Harry just turned his face away. He knew what that meant. Feeling sick to his stomach, he climbed to his feet and headed toward the house, his heart breaking with every step.

*****

The rest of their visit was unbearable. In the house, the family were all lively and excited. Bill never left Remus's side, sitting very close to him and touching him an awful lot, and Neville remembered what Remus had told him about checking someone out that way. He didn't notice Remus touching Bill back, but neither did he move away. Neville would have found it all much more interesting if he weren't so worried about what Ron and Harry must be talking about outside.

They didn't come back into the house until Mrs. Weasley called them to dinner. Despite his best efforts, Neville ended up several seats removed from Harry. Ron seemed to have recovered his usually good spirits, but Harry was quiet, steadily mashing his potato with his fork and occasionally stealing pensive glances at Remus and Bill, who didn't notice.

When they returned home, Remus flooed first. Neville looked at Harry, but Harry turned his back on him to talk to Ron. Worried, he stepped through the fireplace and into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

Remus was smiling at him. "So what do you think? Shall we write to Dr. Chatterjee now? Though we oughtn't to send it to her tonight, as I doubt she'll be in her office this late."

Neville glanced at the fireplace. "We could do that."

"I do hope this information will help, Neville. At any rate, I don't see how it could hurt."

Neville nodded absently, eyes still on the fireplace as he removed his bookbag and laid it on the table.

Remus noticed his distraction and said, "Did Harry seem a bit off to you at dinner? He was awfully quiet, and I got the feeling he didn't like Bill very much. I thought he was rather fond of all the Weasleys."

Just then Harry stepped through the fireplace. Without looking at either of them, he headed toward the door.

"Harry!" Neville called out.

Harry stopped at the door but didn't turn around. "Sorry," he said. "I'm really tired. I'm going to bed."

"Oh, dear," said Remus. "Something is wrong." He looked at Neville. "What happened after I left you all outside?"

Neville chewed his lip. He didn't want to tell Remus. If Harry was mad at Neville, that was understandable, but Remus didn't deserve Harry's scorn. "I don't know what's wrong," he lied.

Remus looked at the door, frowning. "Oh, Harry. I know he's had a difficult summer, but sometimes...he reminds me of Sirius."

Neville didn't know what that was supposed to mean. "Maybe we should just write that letter tomorrow."

Remus nodded. "All right, then. I'll see you in the morning. And Neville -- don't worry too much about Harry. He'll get over his mood soon enough."

Neville wasn't too sure about that, but he didn't contradict. Bidding Remus good night, he headed up the stairs.

At his and Harry's floor he paused, staring at Harry's door. He wanted to knock on that door, to force it open even, and make Harry talk to him. But he didn't really know what he would say, and he doubted Harry would respond well to such pressure. Besides, he was tired of dealing with Harry's moods. His own emotions were confusing enough without adding Harry's to the mix.

Neville didn't understand how his life could be so complicated when he hadn't even turned sixteen yet. He was abnormal in every way that a boy could be: a near squib, his parents in the mad house, and fancying boys, no less. The day had brought too many new complications, and he really, really wanted to be able to talk about it. But Harry was unavailable, and right now Remus didn't seem like a very comforting prospect either.

There was, however, one other choice.

He climbed the next flight of stairs and walked down the hall to Mrs. Black's room. The gas lamps flared to life upon his entrance, and he crossed the room to the portrait on the wall. Reaching up he pulled on the cord and the curtains drew back.

Bellatrix Lestrange's portrait slowly stirred, blinking her eyes against the light and staring down at him. "Why, Littlebottom! How kind of you to drop by! It's been far too long since we last chatted."

He stared up at her. She was an unlikely mentor for him to seek out, but she certainly knew a lot about cruelty. "Why do you do it?" he asked. "Why do you hurt people?"

Her scarlet lips parted in a broad smile. "You are such a child! Do you really think it's so simple? Do you still believe you ought to place nice with others?"

"Well, it's certainly not right to torture people."

"It's not about right and wrong, child. It's about power."

Neville frowned as he considered this. "You tortured my parents because you wanted power?"

She sneered at him. "Which end of the wand would you rather be on? If you are not willing to wield the power, others will. Do you really want to trust in their goodness of heart?"

"My parents wouldn't have tortured you."

"You don't think so? We were at war. Your parents were aurors. They would have killed me if they'd had the chance."

"No, they wouldn't!" Neville protested. "They're nothing like you."

"Indeed they aren't, which is why they're on the mad ward at St. Mungo's. Listen, boy, let your Auntie Bella give you some advice. You need to watch out for yourself. Know how to defend yourself and be willing to kill. If you met me now, do you think I would hesitate to kill you?"

Neville clenched his fists at his sides, unable to say what he really wanted to say. He remembered his dreams, where he cast the Killing Curse on her.

"I come from an ancient and powerful family, child. My ancestors were hunted down and tortured by Muggles. It would be lovely if we all played nice together, but you and I both know that's not how the world works. Fear is greater than love. You cannot hesitate, you cannot hold back for a moment. You must be willing to defend yourself, or you will be crushed. My Lord knows this. That is why he is strong. It is why I am strong."

He wanted to stop his ears, but she made too much sense. Weren't other people always walking all over him? And not just people like Draco Malfoy. The Weasley twins picked on him because they knew he couldn't defend himself. Everyone thought he was meek and mild. He posed no threat, so they ignored him, thought he was a squib. They didn't care about him. Even Harry merely used him as long as it was convenient. Was Bellatrix right after all?

Her ice blue eyes stared down haughtily at him. "When you and I next meet, Littlebottom, who will win? You must decide now. If you wait, it will be too late."

Neville looked up at her. "I will win. I'll be ready."

She smiled. "I am looking forward to it."

He pulled the cord and the curtains swung closed.

He would be ready. For anything, and anyone.