Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Ships:
Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom
Characters:
Neville Longbottom Remus Lupin Severus Snape Nymphadora Tonks Harry and Hermione and Ron
Genres:
Mystery Adventure
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Stats:
Published: 01/16/2006
Updated: 06/19/2006
Words: 134,451
Chapters: 37
Hits: 105,190

Becoming Neville

Jedi Rita

Story Summary:
Neville's Gran breaks her hip just after his fifth year at Hogwarts, and he must spend the summer with Harry and Remus at No. 12 Grimmauld Place. He and Harry discover a hidden message in the candy wrappers Neville's mother has been giving him over the years, and they begin to uncover secrets about the past, even as they must confront dangers in the present. Along the way, Neville learns just how much he has in common with The Boy Who Lived, and how to be his own kind of hero.

Chapter 31 - Chapter 32

Chapter Summary:
In which they find out what happened to Remus.
Posted:
06/16/2006
Hits:
1,975

Chapter Thirty-two

Neville could scarcely remember the rest of that night. He didn't have any idea how they had arrived at Tonks's small flat. She gave her bed to Harry and Neville, and they obediently lay down, kicking off their shoes. But neither of them fell asleep for a long time. Harry had kept a tight grip on Neville's arm ever since they had left the laboratory, and he only finally let go when they lay down. The blood rushing back into Neville's arm made his fingers tingle. He hadn't realized Harry had been hanging on to him so tightly.

They lay side by side in the dark, listening to the voices outside their door. Neville had briefly wondered where the others would sleep, but it soon became clear that the adults would take no rest that night. He heard Snape's bass voice and Tonks's soft alto murmuring, though he couldn't make out the words. Dumbledore soon joined them, and others as well. Neville recognized Moody and Shacklebolt, and there were others that he didn't know. He was grateful for the voices. They reassured him that he was safe.

Every once in a while a shiver wracked his body. Harry rolled closer onto his side and placed his arm across Neville's chest, as if trying to hold him still. He didn't say anything, but Neville was glad to feel the weight of Harry's arm, his breath on Neville's neck. It helped with the tremors.

Images tumbled through his mind. Bellatrix cackling with laughter, Tonks lying crumpled on the floor, Snape in the jaws of the werewolf. He saw spells flying about, Harry's white knuckles as he gripped his wand. Bellatrix pointing her wand at him, pain tearing through his muscles. The beast leaping upon her, blood spraying the wall. And perhaps most upsetting of all. Snape emerging from the house pale and trembling, falling to his knees and throwing up. What could have made Snape so ill? He didn't even want to think about it. He wished he'd never seen the werewolf. He couldn't bear the thought that such a frightening monster was Remus Lupin during the rest of the month. When he'd fantasized about killing Bellatrix, it had always been at the tip of a wand, not by having teeth - Remus's teeth - ripping into her neck.

But even the worst events of the night were suffused with a kind of warmth, that amazing, powerful warmth that had filled him when he had transcended the Cruciatus curse. He'd done it: he'd followed his mother's advice, proved her theory, accomplished what even she had not been capable of. Strangely, that thought was not comforting. He didn't want to do better than his parents. Somehow, his success only underscored their failure.

He shuddered again, and Harry's arm tightened around him. Neville pressed closer, needing to feel Harry's body, warm and solid, against him. He concentrated on Harry, leg hooked over his knee, chin resting on his shoulder, the flat of his hand pressed against Neville's ribs, breath puffing against his neck in a steady rhythm. He made himself think about that, and not what he'd seen in the library. Bellatrix was dead, and Harry was here, and there were aurors in the living room. No need to tremble anymore. No need to be afraid.

*****

At some point he must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes, light was streaming through the window. He shifted to a more comfortable position and closed his eyes again when a voice interrupted.

"Longbottom, Potter, wake up."

Startled, Neville shot upright and blinked to see Professor Snape standing at the foot of the bed. Confused, he looked around him at the strange room, while Harry stirred next to him.

"It's early, but we must return to the house," Snape continued, scowling impatiently. "Quickly!"

Professor Snape was a sight no one should have to encounter first thing in the morning, Neville reflected as he rolled off the mattress and searched for his shoes.

Harry sat up and felt for his glasses on the bedstand. "Sir, wouldn't it be safer for us to stay here?"

"Miss Tonks's flat is not secure, and she must report to work. You cannot be left here alone."

"Are they decent?" another voice pitched in, far too cheerily. Tonks's bright eyes peeped over Snape's shoulder. "Sorry, gents, you can't stay. What would my landlady say if she knew I had three men in here last night?"

The boys stumbled about, sorting out their shoes. Still half asleep, Neville tried to fit his left foot into his right shoe. All the while, Snape stood at the door, arms crossed, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Care for a bite of toast?" Tonks offered.

"We haven't the time," said Snape.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, which only made it stand up more. "Why so hasty? Bellatrix is dead, isn't she?"

"We must check on Lupin." Snape's dark eyes gleamed with an unidentifiable emotion. "You must not mention the events of last night to anyone, do you understand? The Headmaster decided that it is better to keep Bellatrix Lestrange's death a secret. But more to the point, you must tell no one of Lupin's role."

"Why?" Harry protested. "He saved our lives. He's a hero!"

"Potter, do you pay no attention to current events? The penalty for a lycanthrope who kills is death. Do you really want to trust the mercy of the Ministry to spare Lupin?"

Harry shot an alarmed glance at Neville, who swallowed hard and shivered.

"If you care about Lupin at all," Snape continued, "you will say nothing to anyone, even your little friends. Remember, it's Lupin's life you would risk."

Straightening his shoulders, Harry met Snape's gaze. "I won't say anything, sir."

"Nor me, sir," Neville added.

"Then if you are ready, let's leave at once."

Tonks bid them farewell, and they took a taxi to Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore was waiting for them on the steps of the house.

"I just arrived, myself," he said. "Boys, absolute discretion is needed."

"I've already told them," Snape said.

Dumbledore nodded. "Good. First thing we must do is find Lupin. We'll split up. Harry, come with me to search the lower floors. Neville, accompany Professor Snape."

Nods all around. The situation was too serious for anyone to complain about the assignments. Dumbledore opened the door, and they entered the hallway.

The house was deathly silent. Neville shivered, as if he were cold. Dumbledore nodded to Snape, then headed down the main hall, Harry following closely. Snape and Neville went upstairs.

All the doors on the first floor were still closed, so they headed up another flight to the floor where the laboratory was. As their heads rose above floor level, they saw a pale figure lying in the shadows at the far end of the hall.

Remus.

Snape hastened toward him, his billowing cloak obscuring Neville's view, but halfway down the hall he stopped, throwing out a hand to keep Neville back. "Don't look," he warned.

"What is it?"

"He's injured."

"But - I thought you said she was dead. Did she hurt him?"

Snape removed his robe, trying to keep Neville back. "He did this to himself."

Snape approached Remus, throwing out his cloak to cover him. As the cloak settled around him, Neville caught a glimpse of naked flesh, ripped and bleeding. It looked as if Remus had been mauled. Panic clawed at Neville's throat, and he gasped, "She must have done this!"

"No, Longbottom," the potions master snapped. "Now fetch Dumbledore like I told you. We need to get him to St. Mungo's."

Neville stumbled backwards, then turned and ran to the stairs. "Sir! Sir! We found him. He's up here!"

Below in the hallway, the portrait of Mrs. Black roused to life and started screeching. Within moments, Dumbledore and Harry were running up the stairs. Neville caught at Harry's arm as he dashed past, holding him back. The two of them stood in the hallway, clutching at each other as Dumbledore and Snape knelt next to Remus.

"We can't call the Emergency Medical Wizards," Snape said. "The house is hidden."

Dumbledore nodded. "Carry him downstairs. Outside you can apparate with him to St. Mungo's. I'll follow with the boys. Insist on Emmeline Vance treating him. She'll be discreet."

Carefully they arranged Remus in Snape's arms. Even with the cloak draped around him, they could still see claw marks on his face and neck, blood clotted around the wounds.

Remus moaned slightly when Snape stood up. The boys clung together, watching as Snape passed them in the hall and started downstairs, Dumbledore on his heels.

Once outside the house, Snape disapparated with a loud crack. Dumbledore flagged down a taxi, and the three of them climbed inside.

Neville glanced at the back of the cabbie's head, then looked up at Dumbledore. "But sir, what about the Muggles?"

Harry kicked him in the shins, but Dumbledore smiled. "I do have a few tricks up my sleeve." The headmaster winked, and suddenly he appeared to be wearing an old-fashioned tweed suit, a bowler had perched o his head. Neville blinked in surprise, and Dumbledore appeared once more in his customary robe.

"Wow!" Neville exclaimed.

"But sir," Harry said, "is Remus going to be all right?"

"I'm sure he will recover. Our Mr. Lupin has a very hearty constitution."

"But what happened to him? Was it Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"I think not. Professor Snape said she was dead by the time he got Lupin out of the room."

"But he'd taken the wolfsbane," Harry said. "He shouldn't have hurt himself!"

"Wolfsbane does not cancel out all of a werewolf's nature," said Dumbledore his expression sad. "I'm afraid we'll have to wait for Lupin to tell us what happened."

They rode in silence the rest of the way to St. Mungo's. There they found Snape waiting in the lobby. Neville's gaze was drawn to several red stains on the potion master's cuffs. He shuddered.

"They are tending to him," Snape said without preamble. "When the hospital learned he was a werewolf, they seemed disinclined to ask any further questions."

"In this case, we should be thankful for the prejudice," answered Dumbledore.

Snape glanced at Neville and Harry. "And what about the boys?"

"Minerva has been notified. She will come by and take them back to the house."

Harry protested, "But we want to stay and find out about Remus!"

Snape glared, but Dumbledore said, "There really is nothing any of us can do right now, Harry. You can wait there just as easily as here."

"But - but - we could stay here and visit Neville's parents." Harry turned to him. "Don't you want to see them?"

But Neville had noticed several dark splotches on Snape's coat, and a red smudge on his cheek. He couldn't tear his eyes away from that red smudge. It seemed to fill his vision, making his head swim. "I-I d-don't," he said faintly. "I think - ." He faltered to a stop. There'd been so much blood, spraying the wall from Bellatrix's neck, pooling on the floor beneath Remus. Tonks spitting blood on the pavement. And now Snape, covered in it. Neville lifted his hand to scrub at his own cheek. "It's - it's on you, sir," he mumbled.

Snape's dark brows drew together in alarm. "He's going to faint!" He reached out toward Neville, but Neville saw the blood on his hands and flinched backward. Harry caught him, and he felt the floor tilt beneath his feet.

Everything seemed to fade a bit, and when he regained his senses, he was sitting bent over in a chair, his head between his knees, while Harry sat next to him, rubbing his back. Neville moaned a little, and Harry asked, "Are you feeling better?"

Neville nodded and slowly sat up.

Dumbledore was seated on his other side, and he patted Neville's knee. "Nothing to be ashamed of, Mr. Longbottom. You've had a rough night."

Taking long, steadying breaths, Neville looked up and saw Snape standing nearby. Hastily averting his gaze so as not to see the stains again, Neville pointed to Snape. "You have - sir, there's some - ."

Snape looked down at his hands, his face growing pale when he saw the blood. "I'll go wash up," he said, and hastily walked off.

Harry's hand was still on his back, which felt very nice. He took another breath. "I think I'd just as soon go home, myself."

For once, Harry didn't argue.

*****

When Snape returned, mercifully without bloodstains, he and Dumbledore sat in a corner talking quietly together. Neville still felt shaky, and the lack of sleep made his eyelids heavy. He drooped, finally resting his head on Harry's shoulder. Harry let him, even pressed his leg up against Neville's.

He remembered when he was still small, when Granddad was still alive, and he would sit on Granddad's bony knees, his cheek scratched by Granddad's whiskers. Or when he would have a bad dream, and Gran would sit on his bed and gather him in her arms and stroke his hair, her breath smelling of her evening glass of sherry. It wasn't fair: there were still bad things out there in the night, monsters even worse that what he used to dream about, but he was supposedly too old to be cuddled. Sitting close to Harry, though, felt comforting, and if they looked strange sitting together like that, well, he didn't really care.

McGonagall showed up before long to escort them back to Grimmauld Place. She was her typical stern self, lips pressed together so tightly her mouth was nothing but a thin line. She spoke briefly with Dumbledore and Snape, sparing scarcely a word for the two boys, for which Neville was grateful. He didn't know what he would have said to her. Neither he nor Harry spoke a word on the trip back to Grimmauld Place.

When the arrived at the house, McGonagall cast a wary glance upstairs, then said, "You two gentlemen ought to get some rest. You had a trying night, and I have work to do."

Neville wondered if she meant cleaning the laboratory of what was left of Bellatrix Lestrange, and he swallowed hard against a sudden rise of bile in his throat.

"Would you care for some lunch first?" she asked.

Not anymore, Neville thought, but he merely shook his head.

"No, thank you," said Harry politely. He dug his fingers into Neville's shirt sleeve and tugged him toward the stairs. Neville docilely followed, and when they reached his room, Harry opened the door and led Neville inside, closing the door tightly behind them.

The room was still as gloomy and dismal as ever, the dusty bed curtains lit by what dim light could penetrate the shielded windows. But the place held the comfort of familiarity - a familiarity that felt a bit surreal after everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours. How could normal feel so strange?

Neville turned to see Harry studying him, his glasses palely reflecting the light. "Are you sure you're all right?" Harry asked.

Remembering how he had almost fainted, Neville blushed in embarrassment. "Yeah. Really it was nothing. I saw blood on Snape's robe, and I guess it kind of freaked me out a bit."

"No, I mean after last night." Harry hesitated, licking his lips. "What - She - did to you."

"Oh." He wasn't sure that he wanted to talk about what had happened. It felt like bragging. But at the same time, how could he keep it to himself? "You know that theory of my mother's, about not resisting the curse? I did it. It worked."

For several moments, Harry just sat there, blinking at him from behind his glasses. "You mean - you weren't hurt?"

"It did hurt at first, but then I just sort of...floated on top of it." He shrugged. "It felt warm."

Harry expelled a sharp breath, running his hands over his face. Then he grabbed Neville's arm again and tugged him over to the bed, where he climbed on top of the covers, toeing off his shoes and kicking them over the side. He removed his glasses and lay down, scooting back across the mattress as Neville slowly followed suit.

They lay side by side on top of the covers, neither speaking, nor falling asleep. As exhausted as he was, Neville felt too heart-weary to sleep. He stared up into the gloom of the canopy above them, wishing he was back home in his own bed, with Gran sitting in the parlor arguing with the pixie that she swore lived in the china cabinet.

"It's a bit much, isn't it?" Harry said quietly. "I mean, Her showing up." His voice sounded thin in the stillness of the room. "And what happened to Remus, and to you. I thought she was going to kill you."

Neville didn't really have anything to say to that, as he'd thought she was going to kill him, too.

Harry continued, his voice growing unsteady. "If you had - if she'd - I couldn't bear it. I don't want anyone else to die."

There was a sniffle. Neville turned his head a bit and saw a teardrop shining at the corner of Harry's eye, saw his chest hitch unevenly. It was enough to release his own pent-up emotions. Sympathetic tears stung in his eyes and he stretched out along Harry's side and put his arm around Harry's chest, drawing him closer. Harry rolled over, away from him, but his fingers laced through Neville's. Harry shook from silent weeping, and Neville rested his check on the back of Harry's neck, absorbing all that pain and fear. He had enough of his own, but he didn't try to hold it at bay. Instead, he opened himself up to it, the way he had with the Cruciatus curse. He drew the pain into his body with long, deep breaths, feeling it reach down into the darkest parts of him, and then blowing it out with each exhalation. Grief ebbed and flowed through him as his lungs filled and emptied. It hurt going in and out, but somehow it was bearable. He lay there absorbing Harry's pain, wanting to cry from it, but he didn't. It wasn't an effort of will. It was what needed to be done: he had to be strong for Harry, a cup that could hold the overflow. And he realized that was the secret to defeating the Cruciatus curse, to defeating all pain. He hadn't surpassed his mother. This was her gift to him. It was what all mothers did: hold their children, absorb the grief into their skin, let their hearts be broken from it and then mended again by their love.

After a while, Harry turned back over, wrapping his arms around Neville's waist. His face nestled into Neville's neck, breath hot against his skin. Neville could feel the warm, damp tracks of tears on Harry's cheeks.

It felt like old times, back in the beginning of summer when they shared a bed to escape nightmares, when they unconsciously sought comfort from another warm body, two boys who had never been held by their mothers. But now they were on the far side of intimacy. They had touched and explored each other, taking pleasure together, and now their embrace could not be so innocent. It was laden with implications that Neville was far too tired to think about, what it did or didn't mean to lie fully clothed on a bed, cradling Harry Potter. But the implications were still there.

He concentrated instead on what it felt like to be curled around Harry, to hear his quiet breaths and fell the tickle of hair against his cheek.

After a while, Harry whispered, "Sirius is dead."

"I know," said Neville. "But now She is, too."

"But it didn't bring him back."

"No."

"They don't come back, do they?"

Neville didn't answer. There was nothing really to say.

"It's my fault," Harry continued. "Snape was trying to teach me, but I wouldn't work at it. I didn't want to. I did exactly what Voldemort wanted. If I'd only listened to Snape, if I'd done what he said...." He sighed, his lips brushing Neville's neck. "He's still a bastard, but I guess he's on our side, isn't he? He helped your parents. I can't keep blaming other people. If I do, then more people will die." His arms tightened around Neville's waist. "I don't want you to die."

"Me, neither," said Neville. "But Harry, if I did die, I would want it to be while I was protecting the people I love. Like my parents did for me. And your parents. And Sirius. That's what I would want it to be for."

"Yeah." Harry's voice was so small, the word was little more than a breath. "That's what I would want, too."