Reflections in the Dark

~~Date Started: January 18, 2003~~ ~~Date Completed: January 21, 2003~~

Neville Longbottom lay awake in his bed that night, staring up at the cracked ceiling of his bedroom at Hogwarts in the Gryffindor Tower. He followed the little lines above him with his eyes that were only just beginning to droop. There wasn't much of a point to the exercise really. He just did it to waste time and maybe to see where they led, where they met, and where they ended.

It was all out of boredom really. He certainly wouldn't be doing this if he had anything better to occupy his time with.

It really didn't matter he supposed. After all, it was really the only thing he could do without disturbing the others at this ungodly hour. Of course there was the rather unappealing exception of listening to his frog, Trevor, croak incessantly on the pillow next to him...

Neville opted for perusing the ceiling like it was terribly interesting.

Most people, when lying awake at night, would toss and turn and thrash around and then expect to fall asleep. They claimed that they did it in order to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but really they were just restless. And they were making excuses for it to boot. They probably weren't even tired. They just had nothing better to do, so they figured they may as well go to sleep... So they tossed and turned for hours on end. The ironic thing was that all that movement was energizing and probably kept them awake even longer.

It was something that Neville found remotely amusing.

But Neville Longbottom was tired. He wasn't dead tired like he was going to pass out at any moment if he didn't go to sleep. And he wasn't pleasantly worn out either, like he had just run a mile and felt proud of his fatigue. No, not at all. Neville was somewhere in between those two states. Tired enough to go to sleep, but awake enough to resist the temptation.

And the last thing that he wanted to do was go to sleep. While the minor form of exercise would have helped him stay awake, he didn't do it. First of all, it probably would have woken the others up, and he didn't much feel like getting yelled at right then. He had been yelled at quite enough in Potions class and in the hallway that day alone to last him at least one lifetime.

And second of all... Where there really wasn't a second reason. It just didn't seem worth the effort to Neville. Besides, with his luck it would probably go against every law of nature and lull him to sleep.

And Neville definitely didn't want that to happen. Not on that night.

Well to be fair, he never really wanted to go to sleep. He didn't like sleeping as much as most people. He had always gone to sleep late and awoken early when he had lived with his grandmother. She had always thought that it was because he was a bit of an early bird and a night owl. A rather ridiculous notion really, but it made sense to her.

And that suited Neville just fine. He preferred that she didn't know the truth about why he didn't sleep much. It would make like even more difficult than it was now if she knew. After all, she would just coddle him and pity him and fret endlessly over his health and disposition. She did that enough already. He didn't want any more if it.

The reason that Neville hated dreamland so much was quite simple. Or at least it was quite simple to him... He was sure that there were plenty of people out there that wouldn't be able to understand his position.

He was completely unprotected in his dreams.

No, he wasn't worried that some mass murderer was going to come in through his window and kill him while he slept... He didn't mean that he could not physically protect himself while asleep. He couldn't even do that while he was awake. It really didn't matter either way. If someone really wanted to waste the energy to kill him, they could do it with little or no effort night or day.

Neville's fear stemmed from the fact that he had no way of protecting himself against himself. While asleep, he had no way to regulate what he thought about or didn't think about. During the day, he could block out a memory or repress an emotion. Sometimes it was difficult, and other times it was a piece of cake. Either way it could eventually be accomplished. But it was dreadfully hard, if not impossible, to block out... certain things when he was asleep.

He would often succumb to the coaxing of Morpheus eventually and slip into the mild state of unconsciousness. Granted he would fight it tooth and nail for as long as he could, but a person can only resist sleep for some time.

Neville would eventually feel his eye lids start to droop and his body would grow heavy. Soon it would be hard to move at all or to think. The only thing he would hear was Trevor and Ron's snoring and that would lull him into a nice... deep... sleep...

Neville started awake quickly. He glanced over at the clock with the broken face at his bedside. He had only dozed off for a few minutes.

He sighed to himself and muttered, "I probably shouldn't think about such when I'm trying to stay awake..."

Yes, he would usually fall asleep eventually... But he just didn't feel right about doing it on this night... No, he wouldn't sleep tonight. Not this night.

After all, when he slept Neville would dream about things...

Once he had dreamt that he had lost his toad, Trevor, yet again. At first there seemed to be nothing really extraordinary about it. It happened almost every day anyway.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione all tried to help him find it (they were good friends like that). They looked everywhere for him, but it seemed as though the frog had vanished into thin air...

Then they had all gone to Double Potions with the Slytherins, and they found him all right... Professor Snape had asked Malfoy to find a frog for that day's potion. He had even suggested using Trevor.

Neville had woken up in a cold sweat and practically squeezed the little frog to death when he discovered he was still... intact.

Neville did not like Professor Snape or Malfoy in the least. They both seemed to get a real high out of making him look like a fool... Well, he did a very good job of looking like an idiot on his own. Everyone said so, and he knew it to be true. Quite frankly he didn't want their help in looking foolish.

Besides, he didn't like people who took pleasure in other people's misery. It reminded him too much of...

Well he shouldn't think about that if he didn't want to have nightmares.

Neville placed his hands underneath his head so that it wouldn't become too comfortable on the fluffy pillow beneath him. He sighed quietly and listened for Ron's snoring... He was being awfully quiet tonight...

That reminded Neville of another dream he had a few nights before. He had dreamt that he was lying in bed, awake, just like now. It was quiet except for Trevor (because the frog never did shut up... It was useful when Neville was trying to find his beloved pet, but it was very inconvenient at just about every other time of day). Lying there, doing absolutely nothing and just listening to the sounds around him, he slowly became aware of the fact that Ron wasn't snoring...

So Neville had gotten up for some reason and gone to check on him. Ususally he would hav just thanked God and forgotten about it. But in the dream, it seemed to be something that he needed to worry about... He didn't know why of course. He wasn't sure if he was worried that something was wrong with Ron or that he had Harry had snuck out again which would put Gryffindor in danger of losing even more points. No matter what they case was... or had been really, Neville had peered at Ron's bed...

Only to find his bed empty and made. It hadn't been slept in.

In the dream, Neville did something he probably would never do in real life. He cursed. Normally, the worst thing he ever said was hell or damn, and that only happened when he was extremely upset. But in his dream, it was loud, long and quite fluent actually. He wasn't quite sure if all of it fit together properly. Living with his grandmother for the majority of his life did not expose him to much bad language...

But it sounded right from what he had heard Draco say.

After discovering Ron was gone, he quickly moved over to Harry's bed. He once again found it untouched and empty, which only served to upset him more. Neville had practically felt his heartbeat quicken in his breast, which only made it harder for him to tell if the dream was real or not. That was a problem he had frequently when he went to sleep.

After his rattling discovery, Neville didn't hesitate for a single moment. He had immediately sped from the room and began searching frantically for Harry, Ron, and probably Hermione... Where those two went, she seemed to follow as of late.

He looked in the dungeons first, checking to see if perhaps they had decided to play some kind of joke on Professor Snape. He thought they might want to get revenge on the man for all the things he had done to them all year. Naturally the final exams would have strengthened their resolve to do it considering how impossible Snape had made it...

But the dungeons were empty.

Then Neville seemed to instantly find himself in the library. He had heard them talking in hushed voices about visiting it during mealtimes. He didn't know exactly why it was such a big secret or why they were so interested in it. Hermione he could understand. But Harry and Ron?

He vaguely remembered a name... Nicholas Flamel? Was that it? And had they said something about the Restricted Section?

But it didn't matter anyway. The only "person" in the library was Peeves, who was busy pulling books off the shelves and throwing them all over the place.

Neville had quickly looked all around the castle. He did not understand how or why he was moving so quickly, but he felt a sense of urgency even within the dream. Something told him that it was imperative that he hurry... So he swiftly checked all the classrooms, the Great Hall, the various hallways and staircases, the teachers' offices, and everywhere else that he could think of...

Except for the forbidden third floor.

Suddenly Neville noticed that it was day. He was confused at first because he didn't think that he had taken that long to try and find the trio. Besides, he wasn't even the least bit tired! Not only had he not slept that night, but he had run all around Hogwarts like a bat out of hell, as they say.

That was when he heard the scream.

Neville had jumped practically three feet in the air at the sudden cry. He most assuredly had not been expecting it. But what startled him even more than the shrieking itself was who he thought had caused it... He would have recognized that voice anywhere after hearing her yell so much. But it just didn't make any sense.

Why would Professor McGonagall be screaming?

Then he suddenly found himself outside the door that led to the forbidden third floor. There was a crowd gathering around it full of teachers and students alike. But while there were a great many people arriving upon the scene (whatever it was), there was only one leaving.

Hagrid was practically running away from the group, ducking his head. Neville caught a glimpse of the gigantic man as he rushed past, and saw that there were tears gathering in his humongous beard... And that he looked as though he was about to be sick.

He tried to call out to the man, but for some reason he thought better of it. Neville turned back to the growing crowd and instantly recognized several Gryffindors crowded around each other, looking like they were crying or trying not to... Now that Neville thought about it, they had made up the majority of the crowd, although it had been growing throughout the dream... And now he could specifically remember that he had seen Fred, George, and Percy all huddled together, looking as though they were comforting one another. Had they mentioned something about their mother?

The only other people he could clearly remember among the student body were the Slytherins. They all seemed to be snickering about something. They looked as if they had all just played some kind of colossal joke on someone and gotten away with it scot-free.

Neville had sought out Draco Malfoy specifically, thinking he must be behind all of this... Whatever it was. But he was quite surprised to see that his tormentor's face was white as a sheet. In fact he'd looked rather ill... perhaps even woeful.

But all of the other Slytherins were taking pleasure in this strange misery...

Perhaps Malfoy wasn't as a big a brute as people thought... or maybe Neville just liked to think that. Even though he didn't like Draco in any sense of the word, he didn't like to think people were all bad...

Well, most people anyway.

Neville had slowly made his way through the bustling, emotional, not to mention steadily growing crowd of students. Most of the professors had already made their way to the front. As he walked forward, Neville saw that people were clearing the way for him. That was something that had definitely had never happened before... He also heard people whispering about him...

"Do you think he knows?"

"Let him by... He was a good friend of theirs..."

"Poor kid. First his parents and now this."

"What do you think is going to happen when he sees them?"

"Do you think someone should tell him what happened first?"

"Too late now... He's almost there."

"God... the poor kid..."

Finally, Neville had made his way to the front of the group... At first, all he could see were the teachers. Nothing else really clicked with him. He saw that they were all looking down at something, but he couldn't see it. He literally couldn't look down... Or maybe he just couldn't bring himself to look down... All he could see... or bear to see, were the various professors.

Professor McGonagall was kneeling on the floor, looking like she might never get up again. Tears were streaming down her lined face from her wide, frightened eyes. She was trembling uncontrollable and rocking herself back and forth, as if that would somehow make everything all better.

Neville had never seen her emotional or vulnerable. He hadn't really thought she was like that.

His eyes slowly drifted over to the small figure next to her. Professor Flitwick was comforting her in his own way, but not doing a very good job of it. He couldn't tear his eyes off of whatever was on the floor. He just kept shaking his head and saying the same thing over and over again in a completely monotonous tone of voice, "Such promise... First ones to get the Levitation Spell... Such a waste..."

Neville was growing more and more confused as his eyes drifted over to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Dumbledore. He was standing in the middle of the professors, stiff as a board. That was when Neville began to take notice of how very old Dumbledore was. Before then, Neville had just thought of him as a young man with white hair. He had seemed ageless, invincible, undefeatable, unshakeable...

Now he looked like a broken old man who had just lost his son.

Next came Professor Snape. He had expected the same old sneer that he always wore. Or perhaps he would have put on a mask of indifference for sensitivity's sake.

But here Neville saw something that he would never, ever see... Or rather, he would not see it until the moment before he died or that thing that Muggles called Armageddon came.

Professor Severus Snape, the master of insults, scowling, and all around nastiness, looked like he as about to cry.

Neville now knew that something was terribly, dreadfully wrong. No one's gaze had moved up from the floor since he had gotten there. Whatever had caused all this emotion was there on the floor... And he was scared to look.

But he had to look. He had to know what it was. He had to.

As Neville's gaze drifted downwards, he felt his heart rate go back up. He broke out into yet another one of his cold sweats, and he began to dread what he was about to see...

Suddenly he realized something...

He hadn't seen Ron, Harry, or Hermione in the crowd...

Someone had said that he was good friends with "them"...

Someone else had mentioned his parents...

Neville saw what was on the ground and screamed. After searching for them all night long, he had finally found Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

They were so bloody. Their bodies were twisted and contorted in unnatural ways... Ways that they never should have been able to be in. There was blood everywhere Neville looked. Some of it was congealing on their various wounds and some of it was on the teacher's hands. Why hadn't he noticed that before? He also took notice of the puddle underneath his friends which was beginning to reach his bare feet.

He couldn't tell what might have happened to them. He could barely even recognize them from the last time he saw them.

They all looked so surprised... So damn surprised...

Neville had woken up screaming. He practically roused the whole tower, but he didn't care. All that he cared about was Harry, Ron and Hermione. He had to see if the dream was real. He had to calm down, and the only way to do that was to make sure they were all right.

He had been more than relieved to hear Ron yelling at him about waking him up almost immediately after he had screamed. He was equally happy to see Harry hovering next to his bed with a worried expression plastered onto his face, asking if Neville was all right. Somehow, just because they were alive and well, he knew Hermione would be okay. She never did anything stupid unless it involved those two anyway...

Nonetheless, he didn't go back to sleep that night. And he had to physically restrain himself from hugging her to death when he saw her at breakfast the next day.

The dream had been uncommonly vivid... Usually he could only remember fuzzy, incoherent bits and pieces of his dreams. For instance, he would only have a vague idea of what disaster he had caused during Potions... Although he seemed to have an uncanny ability to remember Professor Snape's reaction perfectly.

But despite the fact that he remembered each every bit of that dream... Well nightmare he supposed... None of it made a bit of sense. Why would he dream about his three friends being dead, and in such a horrible manner? Why would he even think about his parents in the dream? And why was Professor Quirrell smiling?

Neville sighed and shook his head as the familiar pain returned. He did not want to think about it. So why was he thinking about it? He didn't want to remember that God awful nightmare. He didn't want to think about people dying. And he especially did not want to think about his parents.

Neville felt his heart lurch in his chest again at the thought. Even thinking about not thinking about them was too painful for him to do... It all brought up too many memories. Too many past events that he didn't want to face. Especially tonight... Tonight of all nights...

God how he hated tonight.

Neville couldn't stand it anymore. Just lying here, looking up at the cracks in the ceiling couldn't satisfy him anymore. He had to get out of that bed and walk around a little...

Not outside the Gryffindor Common Room of course. He didn't want to be the cause of any more points being lost... But the change of scenery might help him think of something else besides what it night was.

Trevor sensed that he was on the move and quickly jumped onto Neville's shoulder. The act of kindness, even from the little frog, made him feel just a little bit better. He smiled and scratched his pet gently underneath his massive frog chin, making Trevor croak just a little bit louder.

Neville quietly began to make his way out of the room he shared with Harry and Ron, but something made him stop. Maybe it was just the fact that he had just been thinking about that stupid dream. Maybe he would have done it even if he had not thought about it, simply out of his own concern... or paranoia. Whatever the case, he turned around as quietly as he could (a feat within itself) and walked back to Harry and Ron's beds...

He quickly glanced at the beds where Harry and Ron should be... And breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that they were there. The covers were pulled up past their chins. Neville couldn't help but smirk at how cock eyed Harry's glasses looked as he lay against the pillow.

Now satisfied that they weren't off getting themselves killed, he felt he could now go down to the Gryffindor Common Room. Yes he realized that it had been quite stupid to actually check on them like that... It wasn't like he was their mother or anything. But he just... couldn't help but be worried about them.

Maybe it was because of the date.

Neville felt the all too familiar proverbial dagger being driven into his heart at the thought. He once again became frustrated with himself. He DID NOT want to think about that! So why did he insist on reminding himself about it almost constantly?

The thoughts distracted him, and he didn't seem to notice how quickly he was descending the staircase. All he was concerned with at the moment was his own stupidity. He had no way of knowing what was about to happen...

But Trevor did.

He suddenly felt Trevor jump off of his shoulder. He furrowed his brow in puzzlement and quietly whispered, "Hey Trevor! Where are you--"

Neville never managed to finish the sentence. Sadly, given the fact that the poor boy was an eternal klutz, he soon found himself tumbling down the rest of the way. By sheer experience alone, he did not cry out at all, but bit his lip in pain. He just allowed himself to roll over and over again down the stairs until at long last he reached the bottom.

He now found himself sprawled out on the ground at the very bottom of the stairwell... Or at least he thought it was the ground. Neville couldn't be sure because of the way that everything kept spinning... He also wasn't absolutely one hundred percent positive which way was up.

Neville shook his head vigorously in a feeble attempt to clear his vision. If anything it only made him feel dizzier, and he decided that he probably shouldn't do that again.

He let out a quiet groan and slowly tried to get to his feet. Neville couldn't straighten up completely, but he did manage to get about halfway there. So he ended up dragging himself over to the nearest armchair in the middle of the room and plopped down into it. He groaned again and held his head, hoping that the spinning would at least slow down eventually.

Out of the corner of his eye, Neville noticed a green blob jump up onto the arm of the lush, overstuffed chair. He knew by the constant ribbiting that Trevor had returned to him after his trip down the stairs. The slightly rotund klutz frowned and muttered, "You could have at least warned me you know... You didn't have to go and save your own bloody skin like you always do."

Trevor just croaked.

Neville sighed and rolled his eyes, saying, "You know sometimes I wish you could talk. Then I could be sure that you could understand everything I tell you. I mean sometimes I feel like I'm just talking to a small, green wall."

Neville was met once again, without words. Only ribbits.

He sighed again and said, "I probably should light a fire or something. But I'm just too dizzy. I'd probably catch the whole place on fire."

Neville's face fell slightly. "Then again I'd probably burn the whole place down if I could see straight..."

The boy shifted slightly in the crimson armchair, trying to make himself a little more comfortable. Even as his vision began to clear, he did not consider lighting a fire. He kind of preferred it being so dark anyway.

Yes there were always things that could hide in the dark... Evil, sinister things that wanted to leap out of the shadows and get you. Things that had no conscience or heart. Things that were so despicable and vile, they had lost the ability to feel. They could only desire one thing...

Power.

Neville knew for a fact that those things were out there. They weren't just in stories that people told you so that you'd behave or so that you'd have nightmares. They weren't lies that people had come up with on a whim or for a specific purpose. They weren't figments of the imagination. They weren't things that existed only in fairy stories.

They were horrifyingly real.

Despite that fact that Neville knew that, he didn't mind sitting in the dark like this. Yes there was always the possibility that there were things hiding in the shadows that he could not see... But there was also a chance that the things in the shadows could not see him. There was only dark around him. And without some kind of spell or lantern or something, they might not be able to see him...

After all it had worked before.

The proverbial dagger entered again, and an unseen hand twisted it painfully. Neville scrunched up his face and let his hands fly to his chest as if he were trying to stop the bleeding that was not there.

Blood... No! No he wouldn't think about it...

But even though it wasn't really there, something still hurt... It wasn't really physical pain. Maybe his heart was breaking...

Maybe it was the day.

Damn it, why did he have to keep thinking about that? The date doesn't matter! It doesn't matter.

He had to think of something else... Neville didn't know what he could think of or what he could do to distract himself from the pain. He just knew that he had to do something. Or think of something else. Anything but what he had been thinking about...

He couldn't think about all of the blood...

"No..." Neville whispered quietly.

He couldn't think of how dark it had been...

"Please..."

He couldn't think of how alone he had been...

"No more..."

He couldn't think about how alone he was...

"No!"

He couldn't think about how much pain they must have been in...

"Stop it..."

He couldn't think about the looked on their faces...

"I don't want to... I don't want to think about it..."

They looked so surprised.

Neville finally couldn't take it anymore. He pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around himself tightly. Then he started rocking himself back and forth as his shoulders jerked about wildly. He wasn't sure when he had started crying... But he was crying now.

He had to let it out. He couldn't afford to block it out anymore.

Half a decade ago on this very night it had happened. Five years ago to the very day, Neville had become an orphan...

Well not really. He was worse than an orphan. Orphans had no way of ever seeing or hearing from their parents again. Some, like Harry for instance, had never even met their parents. Or at least they did not have any memories of them.

And everyone always feels so sorry for them...

No, Neville wasn't bitter. He wasn't envious or jealous of Harry. He knew how painful it was for him to have never known his parents. And he knew that he would probably give anything to be able to see them just once...

But he just wished that someone would give him a little sympathy for once.

Nobody ever felt sorry for Neville Longbottom. After all he still had his parents... In a way...

Five years... Five years ago on this day is when it happened...

They had been celebrating something that night. What had it been? Oh yes, his mother's birthday. His father had given her a diamond necklace that he had bought at some Muggle shop a few weeks before. They couldn't afford it, but he had bought it anyway. She had scolded him, but she was definitely happy with the gift.

Neville had drawn a picture of all of them together. It had been a little worse than most five year olds could do, but Neville had been proud of it. His mother seemed to like it anyway.

What had that picture looked like anyway? He had used some cheap watercolors that his grandmother had bought for him for his birthday. He had painted it on equally cheap manila paper that had bled through onto the table. His father had used a spell to clean it up...

But what had the picture looked like?

Neville furrowed his brow in between sobs as he tried to remember it. He tried and tried for about five minutes, but he just couldn't remember. The last gift that he had ever given to his mother that she had been able to like, and he couldn't even remember what it looked like!

Another reason to hate himself.

His mother and father were hugging, happy to be together with their son at their home. It was pretty rare back then actually. The Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were running everywhere, wreaking as much havoc as they could in as little time as possible. And as Aurors, they were constantly away from home, trying to track down as many villains as possible...

That's when the lights went out.

At first everything had been silent... His mother and father had stopped breathing they were so scared. Nobody moved. Nobody made a single sound without really knowing why.

That's when they heard the all too familiar screech that seemed to accompany the snake known as... known as...

He couldn't even bring himself to think of his name.

His mother had shrieked loudly, shattering the silence. To this day, Neville wasn't sure if she had done it because she was shocked or petrified of what she knew was going to happen.

He had just been confused. He didn't understand why his mother was screaming or what was going on... Or why it was so dark.

At six years old, he was scared of the dark.

Suddenly, he felt his father grab him as he whispered something to his wife. Neville had been too confused then to remember what he was saying to her, but he knew that it had been important. The next thing he knew, he was under the table, but he didn't understand why.

"Daddy?" he had asked, his voice trembling with fright, "What's going on? Why is it so... so dark?"

His father had shushed him and said, "Never mind that. Never mind. Just stay here, son. Stay here. And don't come out or say a word no matter what happens. Do you hear me? No matter what happens!"

Frank Longbottom had always felt it necessary to repeat himself when speaking. But Neville recognized the tone of his father's voice. The man was not to be disobeyed.

All Neville could do was nod.

That was it. The boy had a chance to say something meaningful to the man he admired and revered so much, and all he had been able to do was bob his head up and down a few times. He hadn't said be careful. He hadn't said I love you. He hadn't said goodbye. He didn't say a word for one very good reason... A reason that made Neville want to beat himself senseless.

He had been too damn scared to speak.

His father had obviously expected more from his son because he hung back by Neville for a while, looking at him like he was begging him for something... What exactly the man had wanted, Neville wasn't sure. He must have wanted a 'be careful', an 'I love you', or a 'goodbye'. Or maybe he wanted something more. Maybe he wanted assurance that Neville would be all right no matter what happened. Or maybe he wanted a promise from his son that he would always remember what he had taught him for the short time he was in his life. Maybe he even wanted his son to tell him that he shouldn't feel guilty. Frank Longbottom had been a good father to his son... Maybe that's what he wanted to hear.

But that was a lot to expect from a slightly overweight, clumsy six year old who was still scared of the dark.

At last his father had sighed and quickly ducked his head down. Then he quietly said, "Thank you, son... Thank you,"

That was the last time he spoke to his father.

Frank Longbottom had quickly stood up, rearranging the table cloth on the table that Neville was hiding under as if to reassure himself that his only son would be hidden. Then he walked over to his wife, who was crying almost hysterically. Even in the dark, Neville new that her eyes were darting about wildly. She was checking every corner for a possible threat...

She always did that. Her eyes never stayed in one place for more than three seconds.

And as for his father... He did not want his son's last clear memory of him to be one of weakness. He wanted him to remember that his father was strong to the end, never showing the enemy fear or sorrow. If he had to die, he would stare his murderer in the face with a look of defiance...

So he was trying very hard not to cry.

Neville was still unsure of what was happening at the time... He was still a child! How could he have possibly known about the kind of fear and terror that the mere thought of You-Know-Who caused? Child of Aurors or not, he was still just that, a child. He had been completely in the dark, both literally and figuratively...

God how he longed for that ignorance.

The door had creaked open, and a silence once again fell over the room. It was as quiet as a tomb inside his home. They all knew who had entered the room, and it was like no one would even dare to break the heavy quiet around them once more.

Neville stopped breathing again, and he wanted nothing more than to stop his heart for awhile. It was beating loudly and wildly within his chest. To this day he couldn't understand how he had remained hidden.

But everything remained utterly still for what seemed like hours. Neville did not dare start breathing again for fear of being heard by the dark entity that had just entered his home. He didn't even allow himself to tremble with fear, though he wanted to desperately. All he could do was wait... and hope... and pray...

All in vain.

He didn't even think he heard anything at first. It sounded like the air being let out of a tire really. It also had the characteristics of a snake. It didn't sound like anything remotely human had spoken. And for a moment, Neville relaxed...

Now he realized that the was quite correct in his assumption. The Dark Lord was anything but human.

The next thing he could clearly remember was his mother screaming. He heard a loud thunk like a body hitting the floor, and then the sound of things falling off of the coffee table that she had been standing by. His father was screaming, grabbing his wand...

Then Neville heard that sound again... But it was beginning to sound more like a word...

And then Frank Longbottom fell to the ground. His cries of pain managed to drown out that if his wife's. To this day, Neville was not sure if he had actually been in more pain or if he had just been trying to drown out the screams of his beloved wife in anyway he could. He suspected the latter.

He could finally recognize that awful word.

"Crucio."

His mother screamed again. Neville was starting to be able to see what was happening thanks to the light spilling out of His wand. She was indeed on the floor and convulsing with pain. She was still in tears.

Neville finally allowed himself to breathe... but it trembled.

"Crucio."

He said the curse so calmly and evenly. He hadn't really seemed to take real pleasure in what He was doing. Or at least it didn't seem like that when you only heard His voice. As a matter of fact, he did not seem affected by performing this spell at all. It didn't sadden him and it didn't elate him at all. The fact that his father was doubled over on the floor in pain, screaming so loudly Neville was sure that the dead were being awoken, didn't bother him at all. The blood pouring from his lip as he tried to keep himself from crying truly did not change him.

Because he didn't care. Not at all.

"Crucio."

His mother drug her well manicured nails down her arms, drawing blood, in a feeble attempt to distract herself from the pain.

"Crucio."

His father was thrown into a wall, still twitching and screaming.

"Crucio."

His mother called out for help.

"Crucio."

His father cursed the heavens and asked why.

"Crucio."

His mother and father couldn't stop screaming.

"Crucio."

And Neville couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Almost everything after that was a blur. He had been told that several members of the Ministry had arrived and found his mother and father. They also said that Neville's grandmother had found him and held him tightly as she cried. Apparently she was trying to comfort him while receiving comfort from him. It didn't turn out well for either one of them. They had all tried to keep him from seeing his parents, but Neville had managed it... That was the one memory that truly stuck out in his mind.

They looked so surprised... So damn surprised...

After thinking about all of that, Neville found himself doing the same things he had done that night. He sat there, in the dark and stared straight ahead. He picked a point ahead of him and just kept staring at it, unable to tear his gaze from it after awhile. He didn't say anything. He didn't move an inch. He tried yet again not to think about that night, and failed. He tried to move and failed again. He tried to be brave like his father and not cry... But he had failed at that some time ago.

Despite the fact that some time had passed since the harrowing not to mention traumatic experience occurred, Neville still found himself freezing in fear at the mere thought of it. That night was constantly haunting his dreams, so he didn't want to sleep. It was always in the back of his mind, so he tried not to think much. Subsequently, he often did stupid things and forgot the most basic necessities in daily life. He looked around his classes and saw the sons and daughters of the people associated with that... thing, that had... had...

The thing that had placed his parents in a position that was far worse than death. They couldn't think for themselves anymore. They couldn't five feet without some kind of supervision. They had trouble feeding themselves. They spent days just staring ahead, looking at nothing. Their eyes were dead and lifeless. Sometimes they had seizures. Other times they had temper tantrums. Once in a great while they asked if they had a son... Once they asked him...

They had looked upon their own son without recognizing him... And still looking so damn surprised.

That's when Neville heard a footfall. His head jerked up as he suddenly snapped out of his mournful state. He swiftly wiped at his eyes and hoped that the darkness would conceal their puffy and bloodshot state.

He had never allowed anyone to see him crying or just after he had finished crying. People could call him a cry baby all they wished, but they never had any proof. And if he was ever caught, he would just have one thing to say to them...

"Wouldn't you cry?"

They wouldn't answer of course... It wasn't the sort of question that could be answered. it wasn't even one that was meant to be answered really. Besides, the lack of answer was answer enough.

The footsteps were growing closer...

Neville did wonder if perhaps it was one of those things that dwell in dark places. The evil, unseen things that lay in shadows awaiting their next prey. The things that love nothing and lust only for blood and for power, and not necessarily in that order. The things Neville feared. The things he knew existed. The things he had met.

What would he do, he wondered, if it was one of those things? What he stand there, frozen in fear like before? Would he just stare at the evil thing unable to think clearly or to even breathe? Would he just accept his fate and allow the monsters to do what they would?

They were starting to grow louder in his ears...

Or would he fight back?

Would he do like Ron had been telling him to do and finally stand up for himself? Would he tell the night dweller that he wasn't afraid of him? Would he say that it could not harm him without fear? Would he yell at whatever it was and damn it for what it had done and what it had tried to do? Would he be brave?

Whoever or whatever was coming was right behind him...

And he knew he would.

"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of us--"

"Harry?" Neville whispered to himself as Trevor jumped onto his shoulder. But he had been asleep... Neville had seen him with his own two eyes! He had been lying there, curled up in bed, covers past his chin...

Wearing his glasses.

Well that solved that problem... Why hadn't he seen it before? Harry, Hermione, and Ron were going out again, and he could have called them on it much earlier... Now they were already out of bed, and they were risking the loss even more house points for Gryffindor.

Just then something occurred to him... he couldn't seem to help but remember that awful nightmare about his three friends... The situation was all too familiar. The three going out late at night, looking for trouble, no where to be found... Neville looking everywhere...

Except the third floor!

"If Filch spots one of our feet--"

That's why Neville showed his face and tried to keep them from going. His fear may have been irrational. Actually, it was very irrational. Logically, it was foolish to assume that he the nightmare from a few nights before was a premonition. He wasn't exactly the clairvoyant type...

But that old adage kept ringing in Neville's head... 'Those who don't learn from the past...'

A few minutes later after all was said and done and the trio was gone, Neville was lying on the floor, unable to move. Had he been able to see himself in a mirror, while most would have laughed at themselves, chances are Neville would have cried.

Because he just looked so damn surprised...