The Misadventures of Neville Longbottom- Death Eater?

It was quite a lovely spring that year. Flowers in myriads of colors sprang up from the ground, all paying tribute to the blinding sun above. While unfurling buds stretched toward the sky, foreign footsteps broke the revered silence and tramped over the sacred ceremony of nature. Crushed petals sprinkled down to the ground like great drops of blood staining a masterpiece. All in all, Neville decided, that was a rather morbid sign, even if no one else seemed to think so when he informed them of their impending demise...

So naturally, mid-March of his Seventh Year found Neville moping about the greenhouses muttering utter nonsense regarding his upcoming N.E.W.T.'s ("Doom, doom-") under his breath to a captive audience of potted plants.

He sighed and dug his fingers into the bag of potting soil- how pathetic was it that he hid from his own friends to garden of all things? For Merlin's sake, he could have stayed in bed and slept in!

...Well maybe not slept per say considering how loud Seamus and Dean's erm- wake-up techniques were. But he could have also gone to the library with Harry, Ron, and Hermione- though Hermione and Ron were almost louder than his dorm mates when it came to their arguments. Harry wasn't much company either, only interrupting his teen-hero-must-save-world angst to snog with Ginny, who seemed to always be present these days despite being a year below them.

Neville paused and wiped his nose, leaving a streak of dirt from his soil covered hand- One, two, three, four, five, six...Yes, those were all of his friends. ...Oh wait- he had forgotten Justin Finch-Fletchley! Why just last week they had sat next to each other in a Charms lesson!

Wait...hadn't he heard something about Finch-Fletchley? Something about a failing grade or whatnot? Oh right, he'd been sent home after a nervous breakdown.

Damn rotten luck.

Finishing his re-potting, Neville groaned in frustration and buried his face in his hands. Good God, was there really nothing else to do? An idea bursting to the forefront of his mind, Neville situated himself next to the wall and crashed his head into the wood paneling.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The repetition of it was almost comforting, he mused with a dreamy smile.

Bang. Bang. Ban- Scream?

Eyes popping open with a start he glanced toward the open door and noted with more than a small amount of panic that the castle was on fire.

Goddammit, how did the castle get to be on fire?!

...

Oh look, the Dark Mark. Ah, that explained some things.

Banging his head once more for good measure, Neville grabbed his wand and raced toward the castle to help out.

...Or he rather he meant to, and certainly would have if a hulking bag of fertilizer hadn't chosen that moment to fall. As it was, he managed to fumble for his wand and take a hesitant step forward before it collided with his skull.

This was not a very effective was to play the hero, Neville noted wearily before blacking out. How did Harry manage it, he wondered?