N-evil-le

N-evil-le

Crushed dragons' toenail clippings, three monkey's tail hairs, two black beetles' legs... I-I-I hope I'm mixing this right. I've always been crap at Potions. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this...

What was that noise? "I-is someone there?"

Of course not. It's just my bloody imagination. I hate this. Why am I such a baby? Well, things are going to change. I'm going to be just like Harry. Everyone will love me. I'll be brave and clever and good at Quidditch. It's worth it. It really is. Now, where's that essence of cat liver?

* * *

Harry Potter sat in the great hall eating his breakfast. The light from the early morning sun filtered through the windows high above the tables and chairs, filling the room with millions of tiny rainbows. Dean and Seamus had snuck into the hall the night before and transfigured all the windows to prisms. When Ron had asked them why they'd done it, they just sniggered and said it was for Dumbledore. Harry had no idea what they meant by this, but he rather liked the effect anyway.

"Harry, Ron..." Both boys turned to look at Hermione.

"Right after breakfast, we need to start studying seriously for NEWTS. I've drawn out a study chart for each of us. We haven't got much time."

Ron gaped at her. "But Hermione, we just started sixth year! NEWTS are still almost two years away. And it's...it's...Saturday!"

Harry smiled down at his plate of half-eaten eggs and sausage.

"That's no excuse..." began Hermione.

"Shove over, Granger," said a smooth, malicious voice. "I want to sit next to Weasley."

Hermione glared up at the intruder, prepared to see a smirking, pointy-faced Draco Malfoy. Her tirade died on her lips, however, when she saw who was standing there.

"N-neville?" she asked in a strangled voice. Harry looked up and almost dropped his fork. Neville looked the same as he had yesterday, but something about him was very wrong.

Harry was about to question him when the boy grabbed Hermione by the shoulder and pulled her out of her chair. She landed on the floor with a gasp. Harry leapt out of his seat, his expression thunderous.

"What in hell do you think you're doing, Neville?" Harry demanded.

But Neville ignored him, sliding smoothly into Hermione's now-empty chair. Ron just stared at him, dumbstruck. By this time, the other Gryffindors at the table were staring, too.

"Neville, what's got into you?" Harry tried again.

Neville continued to ignore Harry and put his hand on Ron's thigh. Ron's eyes widened, but he still didn't move. It was as if he were under a petrificus curse. Finally, Neville spoke.

"Can I touch your wand?" he said to Ron, smirking at him suggestively.

Ron squeaked, looking very alarmed.

"That's quite enough, Neville," said Hermione, getting up from the floor.

Neville turned an insolent look on Hermione and snorted dismissively. "You going to make me, Granger?"

"Of all the unbelievably rude..." Hermione began, glaring down at Neville her arms crossed.

Neville slowly stood up facing Hermione. He'd grown several inches taller than her over the last couple years, but nobody had really noticed because he was...well...Neville. But the height difference was marked now as they faced off. Hermione's face changed expression from outrage to wariness.

"Well, Weasley," Neville drawled, breaking the tension. "Looks like your girlfriend here doesn't like me. We'll continue this some other time." Then he turned and slouched out of the hall, everyone at the Gryffindor table staring after him.

"What the hell was that all about?" asked Ron, eyes still wide.

"I have no idea," huffed Hermione as she sat down.

"He's acting an awful lot like Malfoy," observed Harry.

"A poly-juice potion?" hazarded Ron.

Harry turned around to scan the Slytherin table. But there was Draco Malfoy--sandwiched, as always, between Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy caught his stare and stared back, lifting one impeccably groomed eyebrow.

"Couldn't be poly-juice, then," Harry sighed.

"That doesn't mean he's not behind it," said Ron. "This whole thing reeks of Malfoy."

"He could be controlling Neville somehow, I suppose," said Hermione.

"I'll talk to him," Harry said decidedly.

"Who, Neville?" Hermione asked.

"No, Malfoy."

* * *

Draco Malfoy was having a bad day. Scratch that--he was having a horrible, awful, rotten, no-good, very-bad day. Which is to say that it was worse than the infamous Bad Hair Day of '94.

His scowl was dark enough to shadow his normally pale face. Someone was going to pay for this, and he was going to enjoy every moment of collecting that payment.

He suspected a Gryffindor. More specifically Finnigan or Thomas. And he would hang them by their entrails for this. Bloody Gryffindors!

Draco stomped down the corridor, seething. He ignored the stares and whispers of students passing by. The first Gryffindor he ran into was, of course, Harry Potter.

"Malfoy," he began. "I've been looking for you..." His eyes widened as he noticed the cute, little chirping birds twittering around Draco's head. "Malfoy, what the hell are those?"

"They're birds," he snarled.

"I know they're birds," Harry protested. "What are they doing flying about your head?"

"They're being cute," stormed Draco. He was almost wild with the need to hit someone. His breath was coming in ragged gasps.

Harry decided to ignore the issue and ask Malfoy about Neville. "Look, Malfoy, we know you've done something to Neville. We want you to reverse it. Right. Now." He did his best to look threatening, but Draco didn't bat an eye.

"Neville? Neville? Do you think I give a flying pig about Longbottom right now?" Draco's eyes widened as he realized what he'd just said. "GAH! I can't even swear!!! Whoever is responsible for this had better commit suicide before I find him. Because when I do, I will not be gentle!"

"Malfoy," Harry said. "Just calm down. What's your problem?"

"What's my problem? What's my problem?"

"Malfoy, your face is turning purple."

"This is my problem!" Draco swatted at the birds, which were attempting to settle onto his shoulder, and took out his wand. " Accio a Weasley! Any Weasley!" he yelled, and pointed towards the Gryffindor tower.

Harry tensed--he had no time to react. But instead of a redheaded be-freckled teen flying through the air, a white fuzzy bunny appeared and flopped to the stone floor. It sniffed at Draco's feet.

"What the...?" Harry said, laughing.

"Shut it, Potter," Draco interrupted, scathingly. "I've had nothing but flowers and birds and rainbows coming out of this thing all day." He threw his wand down onto the stone floor forcefully. A couple of pink butterflies appeared and drifted up lazily into the air.

"So your wand's broken. So what? Your father can certainly afford to get another one," Harry shrugged.

"It's not broken," Draco insisted. "It does Arithmancy and Charms and Transfiguration just fine. But whenever I try to do something really fun, like petrify someone, it spews out flowery gunk!"

Harry was trying unsuccessfully to hide his laughter.

"It's NOT FUNNY, Potter!" Draco yelled. "And I DEMAND to know which Gryffindor is responsible!"

Harry shook his head. "I have no idea, Malfoy. But I'll be sure to thank them when I find out."

Draco snarled.

Harry's smile faded. "What I want to know, Malfoy, is what have you done to Neville?"

"I didn't do anything to that...that..." Draco looked like he'd swallowed a fish trying to get out an insult past whatever hex he was under. "I didn't do anything to him!" he finally managed.

Harry blinked. It was the oddest feeling, but somehow he knew the Slytherin was telling the truth.

The birds had settled on Draco's shoulders again. He batted at them, impatiently, and with one last sneer at Harry, he stomped off in search of other Gryffindors to scream at.

Harry looked down at the floor where Malfoy had just stood and laughed. In his wake lay a carpet of delicate-looking wild flowers.

"ARGH!!!" came a voice from around the corner.

Harry laughed harder.

* * *

"I'm telling you, it's not Malfoy." Harry sat down in his usual chair at their table in the library.

"It has to be Malfoy," insisted Ron. "Who else could it be?"

"Voldemort?" Harry offered.

Ron and Hermione blanched at the name. Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper. "Look, why all of a sudden trust Malfoy? He's always been a lying git."

"I just know, okay?" Harry's face brightened into a wicked grin. "You really should've seen those birds."

Hermione sighed. "Why would You-Know-Who want to change Neville? It makes no sense."

"Well, we're just going to have to figure it out. Ron, you and I will check Neville's room. Hermione, you stay here and look for spells that can change someone's personality." Hermione and Ron both nodded.

Ten minutes later, Ron and Harry were rifling through Neville's belongings in the boys' dormitory.

"Hey, look at this," called Ron. Harry left the cabinet he was searching to stand at the end of the bed where Ron's legs were sticking out from under it.

"Is it a piece of parchment with a list of suspicious-looking ingredients written on it?" Harry asked as he kneeled down while Ron squiggled out from underneath the bed.

"No. It's a box of love notes he's written to Hermione." Ron held one up to sniff. "Ewww. It's even got perfume on it." He wrinkled his nose.

"Well, at least we know for sure now that he's under some kind of spell. I mean, he wouldn't really be interested in you, now would he?" said Harry.

Ron looked at him reproachfully.

"I mean, you're marvelous and attractive and all..." Harry backpedaled. "...but he wouldn't really want to touch your wand--I mean-" Harry was blushing furiously. "I mean, if he had a thing for Hermione...Oh, sod it. You know what I mean."

Ron rolled his eyes at his best friend.

"All right! I'm sorry!" Harry turned on his heel and walked back toward the cabinet as Ron spread the letters out onto Neville's bed, opening each one and scanning it for clues. As Harry neared the cabinet, his toe tapped something that clinked across the stone floor. He immediately bent down to retrieve it.

"Hey, Ron," he said, excited. "Looks like I've found something." He held up a glass phial with traces of a potion still evident.

At that moment, the door to the boys' dormitory creaked open and in walked Neville Longbottom.

Harry quickly pocketed the phial.

"Neville," said Ron in a strangled voice. "This isn't what it looks like."

"Oh, really. Then what is it, exactly?"

"Um..." Ron stammered. "We were just cleaning. And we sort of came across... Well... And we were going to put it all back."

"Shut up, Weasley," interrupted Neville as he moved closer to the bed.

Ron gulped.

Neville looked down at the letters. "I see you've found my diary. My ex-diary, actually. Much good it'll do you." He shrugged looking bored.

Harry and Ron gaped.

"You look like a couple of fish," said Neville, moving still closer to Ron. "I can fix that for you," he said to Ron, a predatory look in his eyes.

The instant Ron realized Neville's intention, Neville was on top of him, pinning him to the bed with an intense if inexpert kiss. Ron struggled but he couldn't break the kiss. He rolled, he punched, he pushed, but he couldn't get Neville off him. Finally, after what seemed like way, way too long, Harry succeeded in freeing Ron.

"Neville!" Harry shouted.

"Geroff!" Ron said, wiping his mouth.

Neville laughed.

"You're mad, Neville," Ron said.

"Neville, what's this all about? What's going on?" Harry watched Neville as he would a dangerous wild animal.

Neville laughed again. "Haven't figured it out yet, eh, Potter? Well, let's just say that I'm the shiny, new-improved Neville. And, by the way, I'm moving out." And with a slow wink at Ron, he levitated his trunk and left, his trunk following close behind.

"Well, at least we already went through the trunk," said Ron. Then after a pause, "Was he wearing leather pants?"

* * *

"Love letters?" Hermione squeaked.

"Yup," said Ron.

"Oh, dear," said Hermione.

"But, look," Ron said as he pulled a crumpled parchment out of his pocket. "It's the most recent one."

Hermione opened the letter.

Dearest Hermione,

Today is the day, my lovely one. I've gathered all the ingredients I need. After tonight, I'll no longer be the bumbling idiot Neville Longbottom. I'll be brave and clever and worthy of you. After tonight I'll be like Harry Potter. Wish me luck.

Your Neville.

There was an awkward silence as Hermione refolded the pink stationery.

"Well," Harry said finally. "At least we know Voldemort's not involved. And that it wasn't Malfoy."

Hermione frowned. "Do you think there's some connection between Neville and what's happening with Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. But we also found this." He took the glass phial out of his pocket to show Hermione. "How do we find out what potion this is?"

Hermione looked at the glass phial dubiously.

"I don't know, Harry," she said. "We'll have to test the drops with potions to find out what's in them. And I don't know how to do that. We'd have to ask Snape."

"We can't!" Harry insisted. "Snape would skin Neville for this."

"Well...there is one other alternative," she said slowly.

"What?" said Harry and Ron together.

"There is one other person that's better at Potions than me."

"Oh, no," said Ron.

* * *

"If I've told you once, Weasley, I've told you a thousand times. Don't. Touch. Anything! This is not just a purple-pox potion, you know. This is-"

"I know, I know," Ron interrupted. "Just get on with it."

Draco sneered at him and continued stirring the potion.

"Calm down, both of you," said Harry. It'd had been a frustrating two hours, and the only one still calm and rational was Hermione.

"Here's the raven's bane, Malfoy," she said as she handed over her mortar and pestle.

After a few minutes of silent stirring, he began muttering. "Looks like there's some cat liver, some powdered toe-nail clippings, some wormwood. Oh, this is interesting." The three Gryffindors leaned closer to the cauldron. "There's beetles' legs in here." Ron was turning slightly green. Draco was warming to his topic. "Beetles' legs. Now why would he use beetles' legs? That doesn't make any sense...Unless...Unless he was supposed to use beetles' eggs."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

Draco turned to him looking excited, as if he'd uncovered a mystery. "Beetles' eggs are used in potions of a positive virtue, while beetles' legs are used for the opposite. And combined with cat liver and dragons' toe-nails and-"

"We get it, we get it," said Ron. "What's the final answer?"

Draco glared at Ron. "Combined with some of the other ingredients, it starts to resemble a poly-juice potion."

"What did you say?" Hermione asked in a rush.

"Combined. With. Some. Of. The. Other. Ingredients," Draco began, biting each word in emphasis.

"No, no," Hermione interrupted. "About the poly-juice potion."

"It starts to resemble a poly-juice potion," said Draco. "Why?"

"Hermione, it can't be a poly-juice potion. We know that," Harry said.

Hermione turned to Harry. "No! Not a poly-juice potion. A variation of one! I was reading about it in the library! How could I have been so stupid? It was right under my nose! I should've remembered it after we read the letter."

"What letter?" asked Draco.

"Wait here. I'll be right back," Hermione said and left.

"What letter?" asked Draco again.

"Never mind," Harry mumbled as he began cleaning up potion supplies.

Within ten minutes, Hermione was back with an ancient, dusty tome under her arm. She plopped it down on the table and began flipping pages.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this before!"

"Yes, Granger, I believe we covered that already," Draco deadpanned.

"Here it is! The Emulatus Potion. 'This potion endows the alchemist with the most potent ability or characteristic of the intended subject and will also endow the alchemist with the desires of said subject.' Well, that explains Neville's not acting like himself. But he's not acting like you, Harry. He's acting more like..."

Three Gryffindor heads turned to look at one Draco Malfoy. "What?" Draco asked, frowning.

"Don't you see, Malfoy?" said Harry. "Neville's acting like you. So you must have somehow become the subject of the potion instead of me."

"And because he used beetles' legs instead of beetles' eggs, he took your most 'potent ability or characteristic' instead of just emulating it," continued Hermione.

"Wait a minute. What makes you think that Longbottom is acting like me?" sneered Malfoy.

Ron coughed. "Well, actually, Malfoy. It was the leather pants."

"That...that...Gryffindor is the one who stole my leather pants?!" Draco shouted. "They're made out of genuine Tunisian Tri-horned Dragon hide! He'll stretch them out! That...that...! Just wait till I get my hands on him! I'm going to..." Draco trailed off as he realized that Neville actually was acting like him. He'd have stolen those pants in a heartbeat. They made him sexier than Blaise on a... Draco shook his head.

And then another thought struck him.

"But...But I'm not gay," Draco said.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione suddenly busied themselves looking elsewhere.

"I'm not!" Draco insisted, louder. "I'm not gay. And I certainly don't have the hots for...for..." Draco was turning a particularly Slytherin shade of green. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Look," said Harry. "The point is that Neville's thinking like you. He's becoming you, only worse. And if we don't stop him, he'll probably take over all of Hogwarts before winter holiday. So what do we do about it?"

Hermione scanned the page. "Looks like there's an antidote here, but it's going to take me some time to concoct it. And it's late. I'll have to do it tomorrow."

"Let me do it," insisted Draco, an evil gleam in his eye.

"No way," said Hermione. "You'd probably put mandrake leaves in it or something, and the poor boy would end up with horns growing out of his head. Forget it. I'll make the antidote. Besides, we'll need you to track him down. He thinks like you, remember? So we need your brain to find him."

Draco huffed, crossing his arms and looking away.

"All right, everyone," Harry said. "We'll meet here tomorrow after breakfast."

As the Gryffindors and Slytherin parted ways at the corridor leading to the Slytherin dormitory, Harry could have sworn he heard Draco muttering, "I'm not gay...I'm not."

* * *

Draco stood in front of an oak door with brass fittings. He somehow knew it was the door to the Charms classroom even though it didn't look like the door to the Charms classroom. He pushed it open and stepped inside...

...And there was Professor McGonagall sitting at Professor Flitwick's desk completely naked. Draco blanched, unable to scream. He turned to run but it was like running through drying glue. He heard Professor Flitwick's voice behind him, "Just let me get some clothes on, Minerva! For God's sake!"

Finally in the corridor again, Draco slammed the door behind him and leaned against it breathing hard.

Another door appeared in front of Draco. A glass door. Looking through it, he could see two figures making out on a Hogwarts desk. It looked like Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor.

Draco gaped, horrified, but couldn't turn away. It was like watching a train wreck. "Well. That certainly wasn't in Hogwarts: A History," he muttered, still shuddering, as he turned and fled down the corridor.

He stopped and leaned against a wall thinking, "This is only a dream...only a dream...any minute now I'll wake up..."

The hall stretched on. There was no familiar sensation of drifting up out of dreams into wakefulness. Draco worried. Wasn't it accepted that you couldn't be in a dream and know that it was a dream? Didn't knowing wake you up?

Another door appeared. This one was plain, a wood door with a small, black knob. Draco reached out and turned the knob.

He walked into a room that was empty except for a fireplace on the far side. As he watched, the hearth began to glow with a bright, bluish-tinged light. In the dream, he didn't have to look away or close his eyes. Draco began to be afraid. Was he dying?

Finally, the light began to dim and standing before him was a beautiful, young woman with flame-colored hair and piercing green eyes. Draco's dream-self knew who she was instantly. Lily Potter.

"What are your intentions toward my son?" she asked.

Draco's mouth dropped open. "Wh-what?" he replied.

"Do you love my son?" she asked, smiling.

A short silence followed in which Draco tried to re-learn how to breathe.

"I'M NOT GAY!" he yelled.

She laughed softly and winked at him. And then she was gone.

* * *

When Harry woke up the next morning, Ron was missing. Strange, he thought. Ron never gets up before me. Harry shrugged out of his pajamas and climbed into his clothes, figuring that Ron must already be at breakfast.

Harry entered the great hall and sat next to Hermione.

"Where's Ron?" he said, as he piled his plate with eggs and sausage.

"Didn't he come down with you?" she said.

"He was already gone when I woke up this morning."

"Well, he hasn't been down here."

"I guess we'll see him after breakfast at the meeting place. I wonder what he's up to."

Hermione shrugged.

They finished their breakfasts quickly and headed toward the door. Harry saw Malfoy watching them as they left. Five minutes later they were at the Potions classroom, and five minutes after that Malfoy joined them. There was still no sign of Ron.

"Weasley still in bed?" Draco drawled.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry, testily. He was starting to worry about his friend.

"Joining the other side, Malfoy?" came a sarcastic voice from behind them. All three whirled around to see Neville, arms crossed, a smirk on his face.

Suddenly, it clicked.

"What have you done with Ron, Neville?" Harry asked, eyes threatening.

"Nothing that isn't good for him," Neville smirked.

"Where is he?" Hermione demanded.

"Now that would be telling, Granger. I'm not ready to give up my new little plaything, yet. Happy hunting." And he strolled around a corner disappearing from view.

The trio ran to catch him, but when they rounded the corner, Neville had disappeared.

"Darn!" Draco yelled. And then he stamped around fuming that he couldn't swear properly.

"All right, we need a plan," said Harry. "Here's what we're going to do..."

As Harry finished outlining his plan, Draco shook his head.

"Oh, boy," said Draco. "Weasley is in so much trouble."

* * *

"Wake up, my pet." A masculine voice penetrated through the fog that was Ron's brain. He opened his eyes slowly.

He was in a bed, still in his pajamas, but it wasn't his bed. He tried to roll over, but his hands and feet were stuck. No...tied. At that thought, Ron's brain started kick in.

"Wh-what?" asked Ron, blearily.

The voice snickered.

"It's play-time, Weasley. Wake up."

Ron shook his head to clear it more. And then he saw him. Neville Longbottom.

Shit. Ron closed his eyes again, desperately wishing for his unconsciousness back.

Hands were on him, unbuttoning his pajama top, stroking his face.

"Let's play a game, shall we?" Neville drawled.

"I'm really not in the mood, Neville. I-I feel a headache coming on," said Ron.

Neville laughed. "Nice try, my pet."

"Really. I think I hear my mum calling. Yeah, I'll just get out of your way, here..." Ron said, trying to rise.

Neville pushed him roughly back down to the bed. "I want to play a game of Quidditch," he said.

"Quidditch?" squeaked Ron. "Great. Let's go get a couple of brooms..."

"Not that kind of Quidditch..." Neville smirked.

"Oh," said Ron.

"In this version, you're the keeper and I'm the seeker."

Ron squirmed, trying to get loose of the ropes, as Neville undressed him. "Neville, now knock it off, I mean it. You'll be really sorry you did...Hey! That tickles! No, seriously, Neville. Let's talk about this. Can't we just be friends? I mean, whatever happened to holding hands? Wait. No. Stop. NEVILLE! That is most definitely NOT the snitch!"

At that moment, there was a knock on the door.

* * *

Draco stood in front of the elaborately carved door at the end of an unused corridor in the Slytherin dormitory and knocked. He knew Neville was inside. It's where he would have gone.

As he waited for the door to open, he pondered the irony that was his life. First, some nitwit of a Gryffindor steals his evil powers (which apparently included swearing, insults, and just general nastiness). Now, he was rescuing a Weasley. A Weasley, for gods' sake. And not just any Weasley. Draco shuddered.

The door opened a crack.

"What do you want?" demanded Neville as he poked his head out.

"I'm here to deliver a message."

Neville's eyes narrowed. "From who?"

Draco sighed, affecting an air of pity. "Potter has challenged you to a wizard's duel. Too bad, really. I was just starting to like you."

Neville growled. "Where?"

"Third floor north wing storage room," said Draco. "But if I were you, I wouldn't go. In fact, I'd pack up and leave Hogwarts directly. You've never seen him when he's angry."

Neville snarled and slammed the door in Draco's face. Draco grinned. Easy as taking candy from a baby.

A few seconds later, Neville opened the door again and came out, wand in hand. He closed the door behind him and whispered the locking charm. Draco rolled his eyes. It wouldn't be hard to figure out the password Neville had picked.

"Don't get too cocky, Malfoy." Neville smirked at him and left.

Draco looked up the corridor after Neville and shrugged. He pushed up the sleeves on his robe, and prepared to fight the door.

* * *

Harry paced the floor of the storage room. His mind was reviewing dueling spells in rapid-fire succession. The trick wasn't how to defeat Neville, but how to keep him busy until Hermione could finish the potion and Draco could rescue Ron. He didn't think he could hit Neville with the petrificus hex again. After what happened first year, Neville would probably be expecting that.

The door to the storage room creaked open and in walked Neville Longbottom.

"Well, well. If it isn't the great Harry Potter," sneered Neville.

Harry just watched him warily.

"No flunkies to protect you now, Potter. It's just you and me. Let's dance."

Both Gryffindors saluted and assumed the dueling stance. Neville seemed so confident and experienced that Harry started to worry. He waited for Neville to cast the first spell.

* * *

Draco glared at the stubborn door. It hadn't budged in over an hour. He'd tried every password he'd ever used and then some. He fumed. He was frustrated beyond words. He went up and kicked the door, then howled in pain at a bruised toe. He attempted to swear, and then fumed again.

Then it hit him.

"Fuzzy bunny," he muttered darkly.

The door swung open.

Draco walked over to the wall and banged his head against it several times. Then, he walked into the room.

He saw an unconscious Ron lying naked and tied to the bed. He blinked. He then realized what he was looking at. He screamed clamping his eyes shut.

"OH GODS!" he yelled. He covered his eyes with his hand and groped about on the floor for some sort of clothing to throw over the boy on the bed. He panted. He shook. He tried to control his roiling stomach. Finally he clutched cloth and threw it in the general direction of the bed. He peeked out from behind his hand. Ron still lay unconscious on the bed, but this time his unspeakables were covered by the black robe Draco had tossed. He drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

After a minute of recovery time, Draco ventured closer to the bed. He poked the redheaded boy, but he didn't wake up. Draco steeled himself and then took Ron by the shoulders and shook him hard. "Wake up, Weasley!"

Finally, Ron started to come around. He blinked his eyes open blearily.

"Get up, Weasley," Draco demanded as he untied Ron's hands. "Say something."

Ron looked somewhat cross-eyed, but after a slight pause, he sat up and said, "I just have this thing about toes. And flobberworms. And shrivelfigs. Other than that, I'm perfectly normal. For a centaur." Then he fell sideways, landing back on the bed.

"Oh, Weasley," said Draco, shaking his head. "You are going to be so sorry you said that."

* * *

A thin sheen of sweat covered Harry's skin with a dangerous slickness. One false step, one wrong move, and he could lose the duel, and possibly his life. Neville was not playing around.

Harry hissed another incantation and golden sparks shot out of the tip of his wand. Neville, easily as tired and sweaty as Harry, made a swiping gesture with his wand, and the gold sparks fell to his feet and winked out. Harry muttered under his breath but did not try another spell.

Neville stalked around Harry warily, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Harry hoped Hermione finished the potion soon. He didn't think he could last much longer.

Without warning, Neville pounced. Harry was just a second too late in raising his wand to ward off the attack. Miles and miles of cords erupted from Neville's wand and wound themselves around Harry. Harry managed to keep hold of his wand but just barely. He struggled against the sickly red-green colored bindings as Neville came closer to finish him off.

"Well, Potter," Neville sneered. "Looks like I'm the only wizard in history who could actually kill you. I'll be famous. More famous than you, even."

Harry struggled harder. He tried to maneuver his wand so he could try one last spell. He'd have to time it perfectly...

Neville raised his wand smirking and began muttering under his breath. As he muttered, the lights dimmed and the tip of his wand seemed to glow black. Harry gulped.

* * *

"These robes are itchy when you're not wearing anything underneath." Ron and Draco slunk through the Slytherin dungeon, avoiding all people and keeping to the shadows. Draco insisted that he'd rather be caught dead in women's underwear than alive with an almost naked Ron Weasley.

"One more word out of you, Weasley, and I'm taking you back to Longbottom's lair and chaining you to the bedpost," hissed Draco.

Ron ignored the jibe. His feet were cold. But he'd wanted to get out of there so badly, desperately afraid that Neville would come back at any moment, that he hadn't thought beyond putting on the robe.

"Malfoy," Ron hissed.

Draco turned and glared at him. "What?" he hissed back.

"Thanks," said Ron, with difficulty.

Draco smirked at him and continued forward. Ron followed.

A few moments later, as they slunk past an open door, they heard Crabbe's unmistakable voice spill out into the hallway.

"Goyle, hold me," he said, plaintively.

Ron and Draco paused, stunned. Draco recovered first.

"Not one word, Weasley," he whispered, fiercely. "Not. One."

Ron grinned in the darkness. For the rest of the journey up from the bowels of Hogwarts, Ron amused himself by imagining in detail the torment he would inflict on Slytherin's finest.

* * *

"Petrificus totalus!"

Neville froze up like a board and toppled over. The cords around Harry loosened and fell to the ground. Hermione Granger, wand still raised, face white, stood in the doorway.

Harry had never been so glad to see her.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, relieved. "Have you got the potion?" he asked as he got to his feet.

She held up a glass phial, twin to the one Harry had found in Neville's room. A dark green liquid congealed and smoked inside it.

"I've also brought a funnel. We'll have to force-feed him." She came over and knelt next to Neville.

"We'll have to do this quickly," said Harry. "Before he has a chance to react. We'll have to take petrificus off him or he'll choke."

Hermione nodded and put the funnel in Neville's frozen mouth. She unstoppered the phial with her teeth and put the glass up to the lip of the funnel. She looked at Harry, signaling that she was ready. Harry took out his wand.

"Finite incantatem!" And then Hermione poured. Neville struggled at first, but after a couple of gulps, he quieted. Hermione poured the whole potion into the funnel and then took the funnel out.

"How do we know when it's worked?" asked Harry.

"H-h-harry?" stuttered Neville.

Harry gave Hermione a broad smile and then looked down at Neville.

"Welcome back, Neville," he said grinning.

Neville burst into tears and threw his arms around Harry.

Harry awkwardly hugged the blubbering boy. He was so glad to have the old Neville back, that he almost didn't mind when Neville wiped his runny nose on Harry's robes.

"This doesn't look like a wizard's duel to me."

Harry turned to find Ron and Draco standing by the open door. Ron had an incredibly smug look on his face, and Draco was quirking an eyebrow at Harry suggestively. He grinned at the two unlikely companions.

He opened his mouth to tell them Hermione's potion had worked, but then he noticed Ron's lack of footwear. So what came out was,

"Ron, where are your shoes?"

Draco said, "Well, you see, he just has this thing about toes..."