Becoming Neville

Neville slept poorly that night, haunted by confusion dreams of darkness, where he couldn't move or speak, his mother reaching out to him and turning into Bellatrix Lestrange, pointing her wand at him as a flood of water swallowed him up. By the time Harry came knocking on his door in the morning, he felt as if he'd run a marathon.

"Sorry I woke you up," Harry said, poking his head around the door and watching as Neville fought to entangle himself from the sheets. "I was just worried about you."

Neville rubbed furiously at his eyes, as if he could scrub the night terrors from his brain. "It's all right. I didn't sleep very well anyway."

Harry waited out in the hall, hovering worriedly as Neville got up and got dressed. When he was at last ready, they headed downstairs to the kitchen. But as they opened the door, they found Snape sitting with Remus at the breakfast table. The sight of the potions master sent a jolt of panic through Neville, but not for the usual reasons.

Frozen in place, he gasped, "Has something happened to my parents?"

For a moment, Snape appeared confused. Then his usual haughty expression reappeared. "No, Longbottom. Not everything is about your parents. The world continues to turn, and we need to get the laboratory ready for the full moon ritual."

In all the recent excitement, Neville had completely forgotten about their summer project. Oddly enough, Snape's scorn helped calmed his frayed nerves. After all, the times when Snape had been the most civil were usually when something horrible was happening around them. A grumpy Snape, however, meant that everything was normal. Taking several steadying breaths, Neville seated himself at the table and reached for the plate of toast. Harry sat next to him, shooting a worried glance at Remus and giving a questioning nod in Snape's direction.

Over his cup of tea, Remus explained, "Professor Snape is coming with us to Diagon Alley to buy supplies."

Snape frowned. "Do you gentlemen always sleep so late? Half the morning is wasted."

"The world continues to turn, Severus," Remus quipped, "but not that rapidly. We have plenty of time, and I for one hope we don't rush. After the last few days, we could all do with a bit of a holiday."

"Potter and Longbottom are already on holiday, and I daresay they waste enough of their time lounging around doing nothing useful."

"Diagon Alley is full of shops," Remus continued as if Snape hadn't even spoken. "Not all of them are apothecaries. We might want to visit some of the other kind."

The mention of an apothecary made Neville think of Omar, and he couldn't help smiling.

Remus went on. "There's also Fortescue's."

"We will hardly have time for such self-indulgence," Snape dismissed.

"Seven layer sundaes," Remus wheedled. "Even you can't say no to that."

"Just watch me."

"I'm sure if we ask, they can find some ashes and sawdust to top yours with."

Neville snickered around his toast, and Harry's eyes shot back and forth between the two adults.

Snape sighed and rolled his eyes. "Your verbal barbs are sorely lacking, Lupin."

"Sorry. I'll try to do better in future."

"Silence is, I'm sure, the only way you could improve."

"Oh, I have more confidence in my abilities than that."

Ignoring him, Snape scowled at Neville and Harry. "Aren't you two finished eating yet?"

Within five minutes they were on their way, and they soon stood at the entrance to Diagon Alley. The sun was warm and bright, the street was full of witches and wizards of all ages bustling about shopping and chatting, and Neville felt his spirits lift. Even the presence of Professor Snape couldn't put a damper on the day. He was determined to enjoy himself.

"If we split up," Snape was saying, "we can finish the shopping quicker. Though I still think Miss Tonks ought to have been entrusted with this task. I daresay she would have derived more pleasure from the company."

"Perhaps," Remus agreed. "But Tonks is not on holiday, unlike Hogwarts teachers."

"Tonks?" Harry asked.

"She'll be assisting with the ritual," Remus explained.

Harry shot a delighted grin at Neville. "Awesome! And do Neville and me get to help?"

"Neville and I," Snape corrected with a scowl. "Honestly, Potter, you are old enough to speak proper English. Or is it too taxing on your puny Gryffindor brain?"

"School isn't in session, Professor," Harry shot back. "You can't take points off."

Before Snape could argue back, Remus stepped between them. "Tut-tut! No fighting, please, gentlemen. Perhaps it would be best if Harry comes with me for the shopping, and Neville can accompany Professor Snape."

"You can't do that to Neville!" Harry protested.

"I don't mind," Neville hastily piped up. After all, being with Snape alone would be better than being with Snape and Harry together. He'd endured five years of Snape in classes; he could survive one morning of shopping.

"It's settled then," said Snape. He tore the shopping list in two. "You take this half, and we'll get the rest. We'll meet again in two hours."

"All right," said Remus. "Let's meet at Fortescue's."

"Lupin --."

"They have sandwiches. You can get lunch."

Snape scowled. "Fine. Longbottom! Come with me." He whirled and stalked off down the street.

Neville shrugged at Harry and Remus. "I'll see you later."

Remus gave him an encouraging smile. "Thank you, Neville."

He hastened off after the potions master. He figured he'd survive the shopping excursion by following his standard plan for family gatherings: say nothing and be as inconspicuous as possible. As long as he didn't drop anything, he ought to be all right.

He trotted along behind Snape, just outside his line of vision. Their first stop, not surprisingly, was Slug and Jiggers. Snape paused at the door and glowered at him. "Don't touch anything."

"Yes, sir."

Snape pushed the door open, and Neville followed him inside. The walls of the shop were lined with shelves stacked high with jars. Large barrels filled with ingredients crowded the floor. And standing behind the counter, wearing a white apron, was Omar. Neville's heart skipped a beat, and he felt a stupid grin break out on his face. But Omar did not notice him at first.

"Professor Snape!" the young man called out. "How are you, sir? But you're a bit early, aren't you? We don't usually see you until mid-August."

"I'm not stocking up on school supplies, Mr. Khan. I have other business." He approached the counter and pulled the list out of his pocket.

"Or course, Professor. And how has your summer holiday been?"

"More appalling than usual as I have been saddled with babysitting duties."

He gestured at Neville, and Omar's face lit up in a bright smile. "Neville!"

"Hi," Neville answered shyly.

Snape glared back and forth between them. "You know each other?"

"Yes, sir. We met the other day when Rufus Kornblow was here signing autographs for his new book." Omar turned back to Neville. "You didn't tell me you were staying with Professor Snape!"

"He isn't," Snape said. "And may I remind you, Mr. Khan, we are not here for a reunion. I'm on business. Now, is Mrs. Slug here? There are some particular ingredients I need to discuss with her."

"Oh, of course, sir." He turned to the door leading to the back room. "Mrs. Slug! Professor Snape is here!"

A grey-haired witch little taller than a goblin shuffled out to the front. "Snape, eh? It is mid-August already?"

She and Snape reviewed his supply list, and Mrs. Slug scribbled some things down on a bit of parchment. "Omar!" she barked. "Fetch these jars out of the back room."

"Certainly." As Snape turned to dig through the barrels, Omar gestured for Neville to follow him. Neville ducked behind the counter, and they went into the store room.

"Professor Snape takes forever when he's getting supplies," Omar explained. "But what's going on? Are you staying with him?"

"No. I'm just helping him today. We're shopping. You seem rather friendly with him, though."

"Well, of course, I am! Wasn't he head of my house?"

Neville froze in place. "You're a Slytherin?!"

"Was," corrected Omar. "But aren't you?"

"No. I'm-I'm in Gryffindor."

The expression on Omar's face mirrored Neville's own shock. "Oh. Well...." His mouth opened and closed without making a sound.

Neville's heart sank. Omar had seemed so nice! How could he possibly be in Slytherin? Life just wasn't fair.

Omar cleared his throat. "Well, Gryffindors can't all be bad, can they?" Neville frowned, and Omar swallowed visibly. Then he leaned closer and said in a low voice. "Especially not someone who thinks Kornblow looks fit, right?"

A smile crept onto Neville's lips, and he felt that happy-queasy feeling in his stomach. "Right. Anyway, Slytherins can't all be bad, either."

Omar grinned widely. "Besides, I'm not in school anymore. No more house rivalries, eh? Shake hands."

"Right." Neville held out his hand and they shook. They waited just a moment too long before letting go. Omar grinned shyly at him, then turned back to the shelves. "Got to get those jars for Professor Snape. You read the list for me."

"Uhm," Neville looked at the first item. "Bat spleens."

Omar groaned. "Of course, it would be something on one of the top shelves."

Neville watched appreciatively as Omar climbed onto a stool and reached high overhead, jeans stretching tightly over his bum.

Omar handed down the jar. "Put it on that cart," he instructed. As Neville did so, Omar asked for the next ingredient.

"Powdered erumpent horn."

Omar frowned, finger on his chin. "We don't get asked for that one often. Gotta think where it is." He began rummaging through one of the shelves, and Neville had the chance to admire how the muscles of his back moved beneath his shirt.

"So, Neville," Omar said. "What year are you in school?"

"I'll be starting sixth year in September."

"Really? I finished in '92. So would we have overlapped then?"

"Yes, I started in '91." No wonder they hadn't known each other.

"God, what an awful year that was," Omar muttered. "Hang on. You said you're in Gryffindor. What's your name again?"

"Neville. Neville Longbottom."

"Sweet Merlin! You're the kid that stole the house cup from us!"

Neville froze, eyes wide.

Omar laughed. "Oh, don't look so frightened. No house rivalries, right? But I have to tell you, you weren't too popular among Slytherins for that. We won the cup every year I was at school, except that one. And all because of some Gryffindor brat named Neville Longbottom. I mean, it would be one thing to be defeated by the bloody Boy Who Lived, but some kid nobody'd ever heard of?"

Neville just stood there, not sure if he wanted to run away, or pull out his wand and throw a hex at the boy.

Omar blushed. "Sorry. That didn't exactly come out right. Look, you were just a little kid, you know? But now -it's pretty impressive for a little nobody kid to win the house cup, isn't it? I mean, it wasn't bloody Potter who did it, it was you. And now -." Omar gave another shy grin. "And now it's years later, and there are no more house rivalries, so I can say 'good job.' So you're the famous kid who won the house cup from Slytherin. Congratulations. Pleased to meet you, Neville Longbottom." He held out his hand for another shake, giving Neville's hand a gentle squeeze.

Neville smiled. "Pleased to meet you, too, Omar Khan."

They waited a while before releasing each other's hands, and Omar cleared his throat. "So, what else is on that list?"

Neville read the next item, and Omar dove back into the shelves.

"So, Omar, why did you get sorted into Slytherin?"

Omar grinned over his shoulder. "Ambition, of course. Someday I'm going to own my own apothecary shop. Why did you get sorted into Gryffindor - bravery, right?"

Neville didn't know how to answer that, so he shrugged and changed the subject. "Did you know Draco Malfoy?"

"Malfoy? Annoying little blond git? Yeah, I remember him. Always going on about his ancestry, but don't his family only go back five hundred years? That's nothing. I'm from one of the oldest wizarding families in Pakistan. We're talking two thousand years."

"Wow," said Neville.

"You Brits were savages back when my ancestors were running the greatest civilization in the world." He frowned. "But what does that matter, anyway? After partition, things got bad for wizards in Pakistan, so my family moved here. A lot of them got tangled up with You Know Who. But that's just stupid. Didn't they learn anything from home? Pakistan is the biggest basket case in the world, and for what? Stupid ideas about certain people being better than others. What the hell does it matter? Hindus or Muslims, Pakistanis or Indians, wizards or Muggles." He flashed Neville a grin. "Slytherins or Gryffindors. People are just people, right?"

"Yeah," said Neville.

"You're letting me talk too much, Neville. Read me the next item on the list, then tell me something about yourself."

Neville glanced at the list. "Next is --."

"Omar!" Mrs. Slug yelled from the front of the shop. "Are you asleep back there? Hurry up with those supplies!"

Omar jumped. "Quick, read it out."

Neville read the list, and Omar quickly found all the items, stacked them on the cart, and wheeled it to the front of the shop.

"Sorry about that, Mrs. Slug. I had some trouble finding the tubeworms."

Snape swooped down on the cart and began inspecting the wares, approving of some, disapproving of others. Omar and Neville couldn't really talk in front of Snape and Mrs. Slug, so they contented themselves with grinning at each other and making silent gestures.

"Omar," Mrs. Slug finally broke in. "If you're finished making stupid faces, you can wrap up Professor Snape's purchases."

"Yes, ma'am."

While Snape paid the bill, Omar bagged the ingredients and handed them to Neville. "Hang on a minute," he whispered. Pulling a bit of parchment out of his apron pocket, he hastily scribbled something down. "My address," he said, handing it to Neville. "Next time you're coming to Diagon Alley, owl me first. We'll arrange a time to get together. You still need to tell me something about yourself."

He grinned, and Neville smiled back. "All right."

"Mr. Longbottom!" Snape called from the door. "We still have much to do!"

"Yes, sir!" he replied.

"Good-bye, Professor Snape," Omar called. "It was good to see you again, sir."

Snape nodded and left the shop, Neville scrambling after him, trying to shoot one more smile at Omar before the door closed.

Out in the street, Snape looked at the piece of parchment Neville was clutching, and scowled. "What did he give you?" he demanded.

"Erm, he gave me his address," Neville stammered. Juggling the packages, he tried to stick the parchment in his pocket.

"Don't drop anything!" Snape scolded, seizing a couple of the packages before Neville could let them fall. He watched as Neville tucked the parchment safely away, then handed the packages back. "So you met Mr. Khan here?"

Neville didn't see what business it was of Snape's. But perhaps Snape knew something he didn't. Maybe Omar was a Death Eater! He seemed nice, but then Neville wasn't the best judge of character. "Is there something wrong? Should I not trust him?"

"Why would you say that?" Snape shot back. "Mr. Khan was a prefect. I merely wonder if you have any idea what you're getting into."

"What does that mean, sir?"

Snape pursed his lips. "Gryffindors and Slytherins aren't known to be friends."

Neville thought about that. "But you're friends with Professor Lupin, aren't you?"

Snape stared at him, one eyebrow raised. Then he gave a "hmph" and headed off down the street.

When they passed the cauldron-maker, Neville asked, "Don't we have to get cauldrons and things?"

"Lupin and Potter will be getting those supplies. We have more ingredients to buy."

Just then Snape turned down Knockturn Alley, and Neville balked as if he'd hit a brick wall. "Sir!" he called out.

Snape whirled on his heel. "Come along, Longbottom."

"But - but - my Gran - she told me never to wander down here!"

"Your 'Gran'," Snape dismissed. "You're not wandering, you are accompanying me." His brow darkened, and he gave Neville a sinister smile. "And I do advise you to stick close to me, lest some unscrupulous wizard abduct you, chop you up, and sell your liver to me as a potion ingredient. I would be greatly distressed to buy a product of such inferior quality."

A teeny part of Neville's brain suspected he was being teased again, but the rest of his brain had been concocting horrific stories about Knockturn Alley for years, so he hastily scrambled close to Snape's side.

They worked their way down the narrow, winding street. The sun barely penetrated the alley's gloom, and the air felt damp and clammy on Neville's skin. The shop windows were crusted with dirt, and he couldn't really see what was inside. Was it his imagination, or did the wizards and witches here all have a sneaky gleam in their eye, as if they were here on business that wasn't quite proper? Or legal.

At last Snape led the way into another apothecary. Like Slug and Jiggers, the walls were lined with shelves and jars, but the jars looked creepier. The interior was lit only by the murky light coming in from the filthy windows. A large gray figure uncurled itself in a corner. It turned out to be a very tall, very thin, very cobwebby wizard.

"Professor Snape," said a raspy voice. "How good to see you."

"Mr. Betelgeuse," Snape nodded in greeting. "I have some special requests."

He handed over a list, and Mr. Betelgeuse fixed a pince-nez to the bridge of his nose and studied the parchment. "Yes, yes. I think I have some items you will be satisfied with." He shuffled around the shop, pulling down jars off of shelves, and Neville swore he could hear Mr. Betelgeuse's bones clacking together with each step.

Unfortunately, this apothecary shop had no attractive young apprentice to ogle, so Neville turned his attention to the nearest shelf. He could barely see the jars' contents in the dim light, and he leaned close to one murky jar to inspect it. When his eyes at last adjusted, he saw that the jar was full of crawling millipedes. He jumped back in fright.

Behind him, a deep voice rumbled, "Mr. Betelgeuse stocks certain very fresh supplies." He whirled to see Snape smirking nastily down at him. "If you were to wander off alone, you might end up in a dozen jars on these very shelves."

Again, Neville had the feeling that Snape was teasing, but he was too unnerved to find it very funny. "Please, sir. Why couldn't we get everything we need at Slug and Jiggers?"

"Not all shops are alike. Each one has its specialties. This isn't some Muggle grocery chain, stocking a bit of everything, and all of it poor quality."

"Yes, sir."

"One-stop shopping will never yield satisfactory results. Remember that, Longbottom."

"I will, sir."

"No you won't, you stupid boy. You won't remember anything that a child of moderate intelligence might have learned on this shopping trip. No doubt you are thinking about that ice cream sundae at Fortescue's."

"No, sir," said Neville. "I'm thinking about how I'd really like not to end up in a jar on one of these shelves."

"A dozen jars, Longbottom. All your useful ingredients wouldn't fit in just one."

"Yes, sir."

The cobwebby wizard heaved a phlegmy cough and wheezed, "Here you are, Professor. Perhaps you'd like to take a look."

"Come here, Longbottom," said Snape, approaching the counter where six or seven jars had been lined up for inspection. "One should never just buy whatever is in a jar. It is necessary to inspect the items for quality. For example." He took a pair of tongs and dipped into one of the jars, pulling out a long, gnarled root. "Tell me what is wrong with this dandelion root, since Professor Sprout seems to think you have a talent for herbology."

Neville peered at the thing, all too aware that both Snape and Betelgeuse were watching him closely. "Um. Well." He wished he could see better in the dim light. He felt very foolish, especially since.... "Sir, are you sure that's a dandelion root?"

Snape's face was impassive. "What else would it be?"

Neville looked at the root, forcing himself not to chew his nails as he examined it. "Well, it looks more like an asphodel root."

"I'm not interested in what it looks like. I'm interested in what it is."

"I-I think it's a asphodel root, sir."

"You think it is. Is that your opinion, or is it fact?"

Feeling a bit more confident, he said, "It is an asphodel root, sir."

"Very well. Now that you have finally identified it correctly, tell me what's wrong with it."

Neville tilted his head to one side and squinted at the root, but it looked fine to him. Perhaps Snape was just having him on again. "Nothing's wrong with it, sir. It looks fine."

"This isn't an exercise in aesthetics, Longbottom. Kindly stop wasting my time. How do you know that it looks fine? What are you inspecting it for?"

"Well, it's not bruised or broken. It's a good yellowish color, and it has no holes where bugs have eaten it."

"Is it old or fresh?"

"It's fresh." He quickly added, "If you pinch it with your fingernail, you'll know how fresh it is."

"It's covered in dirt. Is that good or bad?"

Neville thought for a moment. "Professor Sprout says you shouldn't wash roots until just before you use them, because they'll dry out faster when they're washed."

"Would you use this root?"

"Yes, sir. I would."

With a "hmph," Snape replaced the root in the jar. "I'm sure I can find a better one." He rummaged through the jar, finally pulling out a root that Neville thought looked just as good as the one he had approved. Snape placed the root on a piece of wrapping paper, then went through the other jars, pointing out the merits and demerits of each item while Neville listened and tried to look intelligent. He had a tough time not turning green, though, when they got to the dried badger testicles.

At last their purchases had all been chosen and wrapped, and Snape paid the bill. With a farewell to Mr. Betelgeuse, they headed back out into the street.

There were still a few more items on their list, and Neville's arms were increasingly filled with more and more packages. Snape paused outside a glassworks shop, pondering some pipettes, and Neville was looking around, studying the crowds. The light in the alley had grown brighter, and he looked up to see the sun beginning to peep over the tops of the buildings. As he lowered his gaze, his eyes caught on a figure standing in an upper story window, peering out from between the curtains. When the figure saw him staring, a pale hand pushed the curtain aside, granting him a full view.

Thin, white face.

Long, black hair.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

His eyes widened, and her pale lips turned up in a smile.

He didn't know what to do. Should he yell bloody murder? Should he try to be sneaky? Heart pounding, he edged closer to Snape, letting one of the packages bump the potions master's leg.

"Don't be so clumsy, Longbottom," Snape chided.

Looking casually at the pipettes Snape had been studying, Neville murmured, "Sir, I just saw Bellatrix Lestrange."

Snape grew still. "Are you hallucinating?"

"No, sir. I saw her in the second-story window above Borgin and Burkes."

Snape's black eyes flashed to the plate glass window of the shop in front of them, and Neville realized he was searching the reflection of the building across the street. "Is she still there?"

Neville glanced up. "The curtain's been drawn shut."

"Did she see you?"

"Yes, sir. When she saw me looking at her, she opened the curtain wide."

Snape squeezed his eyes shut. "Damn. All right, Mr. Longbottom. Let's go, but not too hastily.

They headed right out of Knockturn Alley. Snape led the way, not stopping until they reached the owl post. They went inside, where he dashed off two quick notes. With the owls dispatched, Snape stood thinking, tapping his chin with his finger.

Neville asked, "Are you going to try to catch her, sir?"

"Don't be daft, Longbottom. She's long gone by now. I'm just wondering why she would have allowed you to see her." He shook himself out of his speculation. "Let us hope that Potter has not been stupid enough to wander away from Lupin. She would not hesitate to attack him if she found him alone."

Neville couldn't exactly argue with that.

"We're still a bit early," said Snape, "but let's go on to Fortescue's. Perhaps the others will be there by now."

Without another word, Snape swooped on down the street, Neville dashing after him. When they arrived at Fortescue's, Snape led the way inside to a table near the window. "Sit," he instructed sharply.

Neville pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, grateful for the chance to put down his packages. Snape stood for a moment, peering out the window with his arms across his chest.

Flexing his arms to get the blood flowing back into them again, Neville asked, "Are you looking for Remus and Harry?"

Eyes still on the street outside the shop, Snape grumbled, "Why on earth would I waste my time looking for people I expect to see?"

Neville figured this must mean he was looking for Bellatrix Lestrange, so he turned and scanned the crowd as well. But he didn't see her.

At last Snape took a seat, though he kept his gaze trained outside.

Mr. Fortescue approached them, wiping his hands on his apron. "Well, well, well! If it isn't Professor Snape! Doing your school shopping a bit early this year, aren't you?"

"I am here on other business," said Snape.

"Ah, wonderful! Will it be your usual, then? Strawberry phosphate with a scoop of vanilla ice cream?"

Neville's eyes bugged. So much for ash-and-sawdust topping.

"No," said Snape. "We're waiting for the rest of our party."

"I see." Fortescue beamed at Neville. "And would the young lad care for something while you wait?"

"No, he would not," said Snape.

"A glass of water, please," said Neville. "It's hot, and I've been carrying all these packages."

Fortescue brought him the water, and Neville and Snape settled down to an uneasy silence. While Snape glared out the window, Neville slipped his hand into his pocket to touch the slip of parchment Omar had given him, remembering how Omar's fingers had felt squeezing his hand. The memory made him all tingly inside.

Before long, Snape announced, "They're here."

Neville looked up to see Remus and Harry enter the shop, their arms laden with packages.

"Looks like I won, Harry," said Remus. "They finished before we did. So, is everyone ready for that sundae?"

"No sundaes, Lupin," Snape warned, his voice low. "While we were in Knockturn Alley, Mr. Longbottom saw Bellatrix Lestrange. More to the point, she saw him."

Remus's face paled, and he shot a worried look at Neville. Harry pursed his lips together, as if he were prepared to run out into the street and start throwing curses.

"I sent owls to Dumbledore and Shacklebolt," Snape continued, "but I think it would be best if we leave immediately."

"Yes," said Remus faintly. "Yes, you're right. Sorry about the ice cream, boys."

"That's all right," said Neville.

"I recommend that we floo to Hogwarts, and from there continue on," said Snape. "That will keep anyone from following us."

Neville picked up his packages, and they headed right out. From the Leaky Cauldron they flooed to Hogwarts, arriving in a room that Neville recognized as the teachers' lounge.

When Remus stepped through the fireplace, the last one to arrive, Snape said, "I want to discuss this matter with the Headmaster. You go on ahead back to the house, and I'll be along shortly."

Remus nodded. "All right, boys, let's go."

Back into the fireplace, and within moments they were all in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place.

"I can't believe it!" Harry exclaimed, dumping his packages in a heap on the table. "You actually saw Bellatrix Lestrange!"

Quickly Neville told them what happened, Harry hanging eagerly onto every word.

"Of course Snape wouldn't go after her," Harry said at last. "He's one of them!"

Remus shot him a quelling look. "It would have been very foolish for Snape to go after her by himself. Not only would it be dangerous, but he would have left Neville alone."

Harry didn't look convinced, but he dropped the subject in favor of a new one. "It must have been awful, shopping with Snape."

"It wasn't too bad," Neville replied, "except he made me carry all the packages. And it was cool to go to Knockturn Alley, though he said wizards would kidnap me and sell me as potions ingredients."

Remus frowned. "You do know that wouldn't have happened, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course," lied Neville. "Anyway, we went to this creepy apothecary, and Snape quizzed me about an asphodel root, but I got all the answers right."

Harry only scowled. "Bet if we were at school, he still wouldn't give you any points. He'd just say Hermione had given you the answers."

"Yeah, but Hermione wasn't there, was she?" Neville didn't need any points. He felt proud enough to have answered Snape correctly. "Oh, but the funniest thing was when we went to Fortescue's. Mr. Fortescue asked Snape if he'd like the usual. Guess what it was?"

"Liver ice cream topped with broken glass?" Harry asked.

Neville grinned. "Strawberry phosphate with vanilla ice cream."

"Ah," Remus laughed. "The secret is out: Severus Snape is human after all!"

"I don't believe he was ever human," growled Harry.

"Of course he's human," said Remus. "And he's gotten mellower with age."

"Mellower?" Harry repeated. "You mean he used to be worse?!"

"Well, a little bit mellower. He doesn't throw hexes any more."

"But now he's a teacher, and he's always taking millions of points off of Gryffindor!"

"I'd rather he take points off than throw hexes. Believe me: I've been on the receiving end of his hexes."

"Really?" Neville broke in, interested. "When?"

"Ages ago; we were in the same year at school together."

"You were? Wow. It's hard to imagine Snape as a student."

"Oh yes. And if you think he's prickly now, you should have known him then. He was always--."

Just then there was a rush of wind in the fireplace, and Professor Snape stepped through.

"Severus!" Remus greeted him with a bright smile. "We were just talking about you."

Snape's expression was so chilly, Neville swore the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. "Were you?" Snape hissed.

Remus swallowed hard, a bit of his enthusiasm leaching away. Trying to recover, he said, "Um, yes. We were wondering if you planned to stay for dinner."

"Alas for us all, I shall. The Headmaster thinks it wise that someone else stay here overnight, as a precaution."

Remus arched an eyebrow. "Well. I'm sure we can find a bed for you."

Snape positively glowered. Then he looked at the stacks of packages on the table. "Since I am here, we ought to take the supplies to the laboratory and start setting it up."

"All right." Remus turned to Harry and Neville. "Boys, would you help Professor Snape take the things upstairs? I have to contact Tonks. She was going to bring some take away for dinner tonight, and I need to let her know we've an extra mouth to feed."

Dutifully, Neville gathered up the packages he'd been carrying all day, nudging Harry to do the same. Arms full, they followed the potions master up the stairs to the empty laboratory. Once in the room, Snape paused and looked around, drawing his robe tightly around him. "This room could bear another cleaning."

"No one's been in it since we did the spell," Harry protested, dumping his packages on one of the tables.

Snape's brows drew together in a scowl. "Have you never heard of dust? Longbottom, fetch a broom and sweep the floor. Potter, open the packages, and we'll start treating the cauldrons."

Both boys did as instructed. Neville saw Harry's lips moving, but he thankfully refrained from complaining out loud. Meanwhile, Snape began unwrapping empty jars for the boys to wash when they'd finished their tasks. Neville noticed that Snape preferred to boss them around rather than do any of the work himself. It was a bit surprising that he would trust them to do the work at all, considering how often he complained about Neville's and Harry's performance in the classroom.

About half an hour later, just when Neville and Harry were getting started washing out the glass jars under Snape's watchful eye, Remus came up with a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice. "Lunch!" he called out cheerily as he set the things down.

Harry dropped the jar he'd been scrubbing into the sink of soapy water, and said, "Great, I'm starved!"

"For pity's sake, Lupin, not on that table!" Snape scolded. "We don't need crumbs in the ingredients."

"Oh, sorry," said Remus. He looked around. "Bless me, we have no place to sit, do we?"

"We can sit on the floor," Neville suggested. "Professor Snape had me sweep it twice, so it's very clean."

Remus smirked at the potions master. "How clever of you, Severus. It'll be a picnic!"

Snape did not deign to comment.

They all settled onto the floor, digging into the mound of sandwiches. They ate quickly, and soon were back to work. Remus's presence made the tasks much more pleasant, and in truth Neville didn't mind the work. It gave them something to do, and it took his mind off his parent's situation. Besides, it was nice to think he was helping the Order in their battle against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry might like to rush headlong into danger, waving his wand around, but Neville was quite content to remain in the background. Sweeping the floor was a lot safer than sticking his wand up the noses of Death Eaters.

The afternoon passed surprisingly quickly. Remus carried most of the conversation, skillfully deflecting Snape's and Harry's snark, and before long all the cauldrons had been treated, the jars washed, and the ingredients labeled and packed away. Snape was hovering over Neville and Harry, supervising while they gave the worktables a final scrubdown, when they heard a voice call out, "Wotcher! Anybody here?"

Remus leaned out of the door. "We're up here, Tonks!"

"Shall I bring dinner up?" she shouted from downstairs.

Snape scowled. "Good heavens, no. We don't need any spills on the clean tables."

With a smirk, Remus called out, "We'll be down shortly."

If Snape had had his way, he'd probably have kept them scrubbing for another half hour, but Remus quickly pronounced them finished, praising their work while Snape frowned his disapproval, as if eager to take house points for their sloppiness.

They trooped downstairs to the kitchen, where they found Tonks standing proudly next to the laid-out table. "I'm no Molly Weasley," she said as her hair turned red and then back to green, "But the spread looks good, don't you think?"

"No doubt it is improved by the fact that you did not cook it yourself," Snape said as he took a seat.

Tonks merely laughed. "I'm sure you're right, Professor. Well everyone, dig in. And after - by special request - I brought the fixings for ice cream sundaes!"

Neville and Harry beamed at the news, crying, "Thank you!" while Remus looked smug.

"Since circumstances prevented our reward," he said, "better late than never, right?"

"I have one question though," Tonks said as she dug into one of the take-away containers. "Who is the strawberry phosphate for?"