Everyone Has a Secret

Everyone Has A Secret

By

Madame Julia

Neville walked out of Professor Moody's office feeling better than he had imagined he would. He had been afraid to go with him to his office for a cup of tea. After leaving their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Neville had been sure he didn't want to go anywhere with the professor. Once there, Neville had spent a surprisingly pleasant time.

When Professor Moody had shown up during the Welcoming Feast, Neville had been sure he had seen someone who had scared him even more than Professor Snape. Just looking at him had made Neville's palms sweat and his stomach fall to his shoes. He had been afraid of even being in the same classroom with him.

Neville had heard all week about how intense professor Moody's classes were. The Weasley twins did nothing but praise their new professor. Fred and George had agreed that Hogwarts finally had a Dark Arts teacher who knew from experience how to fight.

After the talk they just had, Neville never would have guessed that Professor Moody had such a gentle and understanding nature. By the look of him, one would assume he was an old, hardened and bitter man. Well, maybe everybody had something which needed kept hidden from the world, he thought.

Not feeling especially hungry, he decided to return to Gryffindor Tower. He wanted to think over his talk with the professor. There were so many thoughts spinning around his head that he felt the need to be alone. Plus, he wanted to look at the book given him, Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean.

Neville felt himself blush as he thought of why he had received the book. Professor Moody had said the professors were discussing that Neville was doing exceptionally well in Professor Sprouts' Herbology class. No one had ever told him that he was good at anything. Not even his Gran, or his uncle - no one.

Neville had always loved Herbology. He had always been relaxed and happy in the class. It was the only class where he was confident his answers were correct. He had always loved plants. He had a small garden at his Gran's house, which had a pond for his pet toad, Trevor.

Professor Moody had even hinted that Neville might want to consider pursuing a career in Herbology and he may even want to consider teaching. Did he mean that Neville could be a replacement for Professor Sprout? Neville smiled at the idea of himself teaching at Hogwarts. He had felt like walking on air when he heard this. He had something to be proud of, something he was able to do better than anyone else was.

The Fat Lady, clearing her throat loudly, brought him out of his reverie. He was surprised to find himself already standing in front of her picture. He didn't even recall coming up the stairs.

"Balderdash." Neville felt heat creeping up his face. He was pleased that he remembered the password. It had always been such a struggle for him to remember anything.

His thoughts traveled back to his third year when Sirius Black had come into their dorm room, almost attacking Ron. It had been Neville's fault. He swore he would not be stuck out in the hallway again, so he had written down all the passwords. He misplaced the list and somehow Black got his hands on it.

Neville could still remember the look on Ron's face when he told the story of how Black had woken him up and almost attacked him with his knife. Black had escaped before anyone knew what had happened. He had felt responsible for the attack on Ron. If he hadn't been so daft, no one would have been in danger. He had not been able to look Ron in the face for weeks. Neville didn't remember if he had even apologized to him.

When Professor McGonagall heard what had happened, Neville wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. He had never seen her so incensed, he had been shaking with fear by the time she was done lecturing him. He had not been allowed to know the password and had been banned from any further Hogsmeade visits. When his Gran had found out, she had sent him a Howler the entire school had heard. He deserved everything. If he hadn't been such a brainless twit, no one would have had to spend the night sleeping in the Great Hall. He had disappointed so many people, most of all himself.

He entered the common room, which was empty. Everyone must still be at dinner. Neville made his way up to the fourth year's dorm. He sat on his bed and started to thumb through the book. Professor Moody had said that he could take his time returning it. He was really going to enjoy reading the book. Maybe he could find a new plant that could add to his collection.

Harry and Ron came up to get their book-bags. They were going to start their Divination homework. As they left, Neville had a sudden urge to call them back. He wanted to explain to them why he had reacted the way the he had during class. However, he couldn't. How could he tell them? How would they react?

Harry would understand, he knew how it felt growing up without parents. What the heartache felt like. How you cried yourself to sleep on birthdays and holidays because you knew that no matter how much you wanted them, your parents would never be there for you.

Everyone knew what had happened to Harry's parents. How could anyone not know?

When Neville had arrived at Hogwarts, he had been sure only a few of the older students knew about his parents. He did not want sympathy. He did not want pity. He knew what the other boys said about Harry. He knew what they would think of him. "Poor Neville, his parents are vegetables. He would be better off if they had just died."

Thinking of his parents made Neville's throat close up and become very dry. He tried not to imagine how they would have looked when the Cruciatus Curse was on them. He squeezed his eye shut, trying to get rid of the image burned in his brain. He had never wanted to know what it had been like for his parents. He had always wanted to believe that it had not been too painful. However, now knowing how the spider had curled up into a ball, trying to cry out for mercy, was making Neville sick.

Neville sat on his bed for a long time, rocking back and forth, trying not to cry out. His hands had clenched the comforter, knuckles turned white. He wanted to ease the pain, but he couldn't. He kept seeing the vision of the spider. It would not leave him alone. It taunted him. Look at me, look at the agony your parents endured. He hadn't wanted to think that his parents had suffered pain anything like that.

The misery of the spider was so different from the blank faces and empty eyes that greeted him every time he and his Gran visited his parents. The torment that they had endured must have been so intense, so unbearable, for so long that their minds had just shut down. It seemed that his understanding of them was finally complete. The last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.

He now knew the details of how his parents had wound up in St. Mungo's, even though his Gran had not told him. She had told him what she thought he had needed to know, what he could handle. How his parents had been Aurors. How the Death Eaters captured them. How they had not known the whereabouts of Voldemort. How they had been cursed. How the wizards involved had received life sentences in Azkaban.

She had left out several important facts - How the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr. had held them for a week and tortured them. How they had forced his mother to watch the torture of his father. And when he hadn't given them what they wanted, how his father in turn had watched as his mum was being tortured. When their drained bodies were no longer of any use, how the Death Eaters had dumped his parents, broken and bloodied, at the base of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, in the Ministry of Magic, with a note. The note read, "We will find Him! The Dark Lord will rise again! Anyone standing in our way will join the Longbottoms at St. Mungo's." It had been signed with the Dark Mark.

Neville knew it all, now. When he had been old enough, he had starting asking questions. His Gran had refused to answer them. She had said that the details were not important, to just be proud of his Mum and Dad. They had sacrificed their lives to make sure he would be safe. Neville did not agree. Details were important.

When he had started at Hogwarts, he had spent quite a bit of his free time in the Library. The need to have his questions answered burned like a flame, growing hotter every day. Finally, his efforts had paid off. He had found old copies of The Daily Prophet. It took awhile to locate the exact issue, but when he had, he became nervous. Was he too young to know the truth, as his Gran thought? What if he found out something he could not handle? Neville knew that he was not very brave. He knew that people thought the Sorting Hat had made a mistake, and he should be in Hufflepuff. He sometimes thought the same thing. Nevertheless, he had to know the truth. He had to face reality. He had to be a man.

Reading the story had been the worst experience of Neville's life. He did not think he would make it all the way through. He had to stop and take several deep breaths to keep the bile down that was rising in his throat. The tears streaming freely down his face clouded his eyes. He could not have stopped them, even if he had wanted to. He had never believed he would receive confirmation of his worst fears. It had been even worse than the nightmares he had. Somehow, he had dreamed of his parents attack. He had envisioned their faces, their pleas, and their haggard bodies.

He was glad he had picked a Saturday when there was a Quidditch match to read the stories. He knew that if a match had not been going on, Hermione would have been here. That would mean that Ron and Harry would have been here also. He especially did not want any of his friends to know.

When he had finished reading, he had been surprised at how calm he was. He placed the paper back in the stack and went out on the grounds for a walk. He lost track of time and missed lunch, coming back in only when his stomach rumbled. He arrived back just in time for dinner. However, even though he knew he should be hungry, he had not been able to eat more than a few bites. When Ron asked him how he had been able to pass up the desserts, Neville had just shrugged and said he must have been too tired to eat.

As the days went by, Neville had been in a daze. He had not remembered how he got to his classes. He had been lost in thought, often finding himself staring into space. He had tried to act natural, but he couldn't. The days flowed over him. He was in an emotional wasteland. He felt nothing. He did not cry. He did not laugh, smile or even get embarrassed for two whole days. The day he finally let go of his pain, he felt as if his tears would never end.

Neville lay face up on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He could feel the sting of tears trying to fall. He strained to keep them in check. Nevertheless, the spasms in his chest would not stop and the chasm where he had buried his pain threatened to swallow him whole. He opened his Charms text and took his wand in his hand. He blurted out the Silencing Charm so nobody would hear his anguished sobs.

He curled up into a ball and let the desolation engulf him. He wanted his Mum and Dad so desperately; he did not think he would ever crawl out of his despair. He loved his Gran, but he needed his parents. He ached for their arms around him, stroking his hair, telling him all would be fine. He had no memory of their love. It was not fair; he wanted a normal life, with parents to welcome him home with open arms.

How could Voldemort take such pleasure in ruining so many lives? How could any human scar so many souls with pain and loneliness? Neville chose to believe that Voldemort would never return and his followers would stay imprisoned.

Looking back, he was glad he hadn't stopped Harry and Ron. He wasn't ready to share his secret. His pain was still too raw. To open it up for inspection was something Neville might never be ready to accept.

He vowed that if the time came when he had to meet evil, that he would stand tall, a true Gryffindor, and face it with unwavering courage, like his Mum and Dad.