Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness

There were so many more of them than he had expected. Neville had added up the remaining members of the D.A., and the numbers had worried him deeply. Only twelve of the original thirty were still at the school - scarcely enough for a good brawl, much less a serious battle - but as he looked around the Room of Requirement, easily three times that many faces stared back at him. He had hoped his count might be off, but this was absurd.

He shifted nervously, clutching the scrap of parchment that held his notes as though it would protect him from the expectant stares of so many pairs of eyes. "Well ..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, feeling himself flush with embarrassment. "Um ... this is ... there's a lot of you. I'd really thought ... uh ... that it would be just ... a couple of us." Fantastic. Just fantastic. Real way to inspire them in their choice of leader.

Romilda Vane tossed her head, sweeping her thick, dark hair out of her eyes with one hand. "You don't mind having a few more wands on your side, do you?"

"No! It's just ... not what I expected." He looked around the room again, realizing that he didn't even know most of the people there. "I guess ... we should start with a count or a roll call or a sign-in or something. That's what Harry did last time."

On cue, the air shimmered, and a quill appeared on the table at the head of the room, neatly sitting in a bottle of fresh ink alongside a long roll of parchment. Neville gestured to it. "Everyone knows that Hermione put a jinx on it last time. I'm not going to do that." Now that he was back on the ground covered in his notes, he grew more confident, and the words started to come easier. "Marietta deserved to have to carry around what she had done for a year when she ratted us out, but if anyone does something like that this time, well, we won't have to worry about being expelled. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that we'd probably be killed or at best sent to Azkaban, much less what they'd do to our families, and personally, I think having that on your conscience would be a lot worse than anything that you could have on your face."

In the front row, Michael Corner crossed his arms and smirked. "That's a real nice sentiment, mate, but I'll be the first to say I'd rather not trust my life to no one here having a streak of yellow." Ernie cleared his throat indignantly at this, and Michael shot him a look of exasperation. "Oh, really, Ernie, that was nothing against you lot. It was one of ours last time, anyway!"

Ginny stood, her pretty face set in surprisingly harsh lines of determination. "I think we should trust each other. Neville's right, the stakes are too high for anyone to sell out their friends. It would be - "

"No. Michael has a point." Neville was surprised to hear the firmness in his own voice as he cut her off. "And I wasn't finished before. I agree with him completely. If being friends was enough, Harry would still have parents."

The words seemed to echo through a room that was abruptly deafening in its silence, and Neville cleared his throat again.

"You all read about Peter Pettigrew after the ... you know, the whole thing at the Ministry. He betrayed James and Lily Potter, even when he knew it meant they'd be killed, and that should have included Harry, too. If someone can betray his best friend and his whole family, even a helpless baby, we can't say it won't happen to us. But we can't expect it to be just a simple matter of some ugly pimples warding it off, either."

Neville looked down at his notes, reminding himself that he had decided on this before the meeting ever began. That didn't make it any easier. As he forced himself to raise his head and seek out the wide, eager blue eyes he was looking for among the crowd, he felt almost dirty for what he was about to do. "Colin, would you come up here, please?"

Colin Creevey bounced to his feet and almost sprinted to the front of the room, snapping to attention. "Sir?"

Neville smiled gently at the boy who was only ten months younger than he himself, but still seemed so much a child. "Colin, I want to do something. There's a spell called the Fidelius Charm. It's pretty complicated, but I think it's our best hope. Trusting that none of us will tell that the D.A. has come back, where we're meeting, or who's in it is a lot to gamble on, but if I do this, you would be the Secret-Keeper, and that would mean that the only way You-Know-Who and his followers could find out about us is if you told willingly. It couldn't be broken by the Imperius Curse, Veritaserum, or anything like that, but if you told: even if you were under the Cruciatus Curse, even if they were going to kill Dennis ...."

The rosy, freckled cheeks burned a brighter red as if in shame from the very thought of such a thing. "Even if!"

Ritchie Coote, a fifth-year who had played Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team the year before, jumped to his feet. "But that's what you just warned us about, the thing Peter Pettigrew broke!"

"I know." Neville did not allow himself to break eye contact with Colin.

"And Colin knows, and I think that's exactly why we're safest. Would you betray us the way Harry's parents were betrayed?"

There was not the faintest trace of hesitation. "I'd die first."

"Then -" He was cut off as Ginny seemed to appear out of thin air at his side and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from Colin with surprising force.

"Neville, you can't! You're using him!" Her voice was both pleading and appalled.

"Of course he is." The words, spoken in a voice that was utterly calm and matter-of-fact, shocked them both, and they turned slowly, feeling every eye in the room join them in staring in disbelief at Colin.

For the first time since Neville had known him, Colin looked his age. He had brushed the messy fringe back from his eyes, and he was standing at the front of the room remarkably casually, his hands in his pockets. He was not tall, nor strongly built, but it was suddenly apparent that his shoulders had broadened over the past year or so, cheekbones had emerged from the round face, and his voice held a depth that excitement usually erased as he met the looks from his audience without flinching. "He'd be a fool not to."

Colin took a few steps to his right and turned, now directly in front of the assembled group. "We're all going to be used. This is a war, and we're here because we're agreeing to be soldiers now. Soldiers are meant to be used. Harry's out there right now, fighting for our lives and our freedoms, and those of our families, and he's definitely being used. He's being used for his bravery, Hermione's being used for her brains, Ron's being used for his loyalty. They might die. They know that.

"Neville's using me because Harry is every hero from every book I used to read as a child, and I had the privilege to know a real, breathing person who made those stories real and showed me that not only did magic exist, but that the people who had made magic worth dreaming about existed too. Betraying him would be betraying everything I have ever believed about what Good meant, and there would be no reason to keep living if I had to stop believing that Good will triumph in the end. Maybe that's stupid, maybe it's naïve, but Neville knows it's true, and I am proud to be used for that." The soft blue of his eyes suddenly took on the vividness of a summer sky just after a storm. "Don't ask Neville why he's using me. Ask what you can be used for, or leave."

There was a long silence, then Luna stood. "I'm Luna Lovegood, in case some of you who aren't in my house or my year don't know me. I think I can be used because my father prints the Quibbler, the primary alternative news source of the wizarding world, and anything you need to tell the public, I'll find a way to get it in. We have excellent connections among a lot of witches and wizards who have never subscribed to the Ministry. Some of them aren't even known to the government at all."

"Not to be materialistic, certainly," Ernie looked a bit embarrassed, but still determined as he got to his feet, "but my family has done rather well for themselves, and shall we perhaps say that the Malfoys are not the only ones who can make generous endowments should the need present itself for monetary resources. Oh, and I'm Ernie Macmillan."

A blonde, freckle-faced Hufflepuff who seemed vaguely familiar but whom Neville couldn't quite place was the next to rise. "Fritz Bagman. My Dad was a Beater for the Wasps, and I've been training for pro most of my life. I could give a few pointers on good old-fashioned brawling if we lose our wands, how to take hits, physical conditioning --" he gave a good-natured shrug, "or whatever."

"Terry Boot. I've memorized all seven Standard Books of Spells, as well as eighty-six of the supplemental and complimentary texts in the library, and four from the restricted section with special permission of Professor Flitwick."

Ginny muffled a giggle behind her hand. "I guess we won't miss Hermione that much after all."

Boot raised an eyebrow archly, but there was a smile on his lips. "Miss Granger's absence gives me a chance to catch up ... I trail her by half a percent in one subject for highest marks in the school."

"Susan Bones. I have an invisibility cloak my Aunt gave me before...." She trailed off, then caught herself, and her voice rose defiantly again. "It's kind of old, but it still works okay in dim light, or if you hold really still under it."

"Camellia Parkinson. My sister's in Slytherin, but I'm Ravenclaw. I'll say up front that I don't believe Muggle-borns belong in wizarding society, but I believe in Dictatorships less. People should have their minds changed by rational argument, not at wand-point. Pansy doesn't care as long as it doesn't affect her, but I think this affects all of us, so
I'm willing to fight with you, and spy on Slytherin if you want me to."

Neville stepped forward again, spreading his hands to stop the half-dozen others who had risen to their feet. "Whoa - this is pretty incredible, but I don't have the best memory at Hogwarts." There was a ripple of giggles at this, and he gave a small, bashful smile. "If you'd all just jot down what you've got - just briefly, like 'invisibility cloak' or 'can spy on Slytherin' next to your names, that would be a lot better. Otherwise, I'm going to wind up asking Anthony to put something in the Quibbler for us. I'll go first." He picked up the quill and signed his name at the top of the parchment, then paused before writing: "Fool in charge."

To his surprise, the parchment shimmered with the look of a heat wave, the same way everything did when the magic of the Room of Requirement was adapting to their needs. Now, the words read: Neville Longbottom - Commander, Dumbledore's Army. He blushed, turning away from the line that had already formed behind him.

Colin was next, and as he finished marking Soldier and Secret-Keeper beside his signature, Neville tapped him quietly on the shoulder and motioned him aside. "That was some speech, Colin."

The younger boy shrugged, beaming with as much of the familiar bright sparkle as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "I just said what's true."

Yeah, Neville thought ruefully, that's all I did on Tuesday, and look where that got me. "Still," he said, "I really appreciate it. I just wanted you to know that I didn't think of it as using you when I decided on you for the Fidelius Charm. I was honestly thinking of who cared about Harry the most, and I thought about Ginny ..."

"But she's got five more people than I do who could be used against her."

"Exactly." He glanced over to make sure that she was out of earshot, then dropped his voice. "And I think Harry would kill me if he ever found out."

Colin grinned. "So I'm your man!" He pulled out his wand, shoving up his sleeves. "What do we do?"

"Give me a second." Neville reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment that had clearly been copied from one of the older spell books in the library. He squinted at the elaborate old-fashioned script, then took a deep breath, concentrating with all his might on the secrets he would be trying to conceal. At last, he drew his own wand, holding it out in front of him as he turned in a slow circle. "Fidelius Incorporium."

Everything in the Room of Requirement took on a vague golden glow, but it seemed to Neville as if only he could see it, because no one else reacted, not even Colin, who looked almost painfully cherubic in the shimmering light. He took another deep breath, focusing on the terrible stakes that made the charm necessary. "Fidelius Sanctus."

The glow became brighter, so much so that he had to squint as everything surrounding him appeared to have been dipped in sunlight.

Now he traced his wand carefully in the air, forming the outline of a cube. The light seemed to gather and coalesce, contracting in and leaving everything oddly dull-looking as it formed a gleaming golden box a little smaller than a deck of cards floating in mid-air. "Fidelius Impervium."

Plucking the box out of the air, Neville held it out on the palm of his hand. It reflected brightly in Colin's eyes as he took it. There was no hesitation, only acceptance and a sense of deep gratitude, and Neville could barely maintain the eye contact so necessary to seal the spell. "Colin Creevey," his voice was barely more than a whisper, "do you swear to become the Secret-Keeper for Dumbledore's Army and all those who are now, ever were, or ever shall be in it? That you will be solely responsible under magical oath for the knowledge of membership, purpose, missions, and all functions and places of meeting? That you understand the nature of the Fidelius Charm, and hold it to be true and binding upon you for all time, or until it is released by the one who placed it upon you?"

"I do."

"Fidelius Finite." The box lifted out of Colin's hand, turning three times in the air. Then, with the speed and abruptness of a bullet, it sped towards his chest, vanishing into his body directly over his heart. Colin gave a great gasp, and his spine arched backwards, his body stiffening, the whites of his eyes showing in eerie, gleaming crescents as his eyes rolled back in his head and the brilliant gold glow enveloped him. For a single, breathless moment, he was suspended, then the glow faded, and he fell to the floor like a rag doll.

"Colin!" Terrified that something had gone horribly wrong, Neville dropped to his knees, but before he had even reached a hand towards the Secret-Keeper, Colin had begun to stir.

He sat up, shaking his head as if trying to clear away the last remnants of a dream, blinked twice, then fixed Neville with the grin of a kid who had just ridden his first broomstick. "Wow."

Relieved almost beyond words that he had not killed one of his fellow students at their very first meeting, Neville reached out one shaking hand and ruffled Colin's hair, letting out a tense laugh as he did so. "You little Stinkpellet, you scared me!"

Someone coughed, and Neville looked up, surprised to see Ginny standing there. "If you're finished throwing people around with your fancy spellwork," she smiled, "the rest of us are trying to have a meeting here." She motioned behind her, and he saw that everyone had finished signing their names and had returned to the chairs and cushions strewn around the room. The weight of their combined stares found him again, and he sighed as he stood, helping Colin to his feet beside him.

"Right." He looked around as Colin scampered back to sit next to his brother as though he became a Secret-Keeper twice daily before breakfast. Neville shook his head, trying to recover his bearings as he fished the crumpled notes from his robes. "Yeah ... so ... looks like the next order of business is to set up some kind of system for how we want to do this. I mean, we already have the coins to communicate - and Terry, if you could Gemino those so everyone has one by the time they leave, that would be great - but this is a little different from when it was just a class we were hiding. We're at war now, and we need a chain of command, as well as some way to handle things if we can't all meet up. I want to assign a ... well, a Lieutenant, I guess, for each house."

He motioned towards Ginny. "I think Ginny Weasley should take Gryffindor. She's got eight family members in the Order of the Phoenix, and her brother's with Harry now. If Dumbledore trusts the Weasleys that much, it's good enough for me. Gryffindors vote?"

Parvati raised her hand, but there was a frown of confusion on her face. "I don't understand, Neville ... you're a Gryffindor, why would we need anyone else?"

"Because," he explained, "I'm going to have my hands full with the whole D.A.. Ginny would take care of stuff that's just our house and report directly to me, just like the other Lieutenants."

Satisfied, Parvati nodded, then raised her hand again. "I vote for Ginny, then."

Hands went up scattered throughout the room, and Ginny seemed to be the only one surprised to see that her housemates had voted her in with unanimous approval. She turned the famous Weasley shade of deep magenta and gave a little curtsy and a wry smile. "Well," she said, "I guess that either means they like me, or they know the twins send me a lot of stuff."

Chuckling, Neville craned his neck over the crowd until he found the next person he was looking for, sprawled on her back almost invisibly in a pile of cushions and twisting a strand of hair around the end of her wand idly. "Luna?"

"Hmmm?" Her voice was as dreamy as ever, as though he were merely going to ask her opinion on what color socks he should wear rather than offer her the command of a group of soldiers.

"Will you take Ravenclaw?"

With an awkward glance at Michael Corner next to him, Anthony Goldstein raised a hand. "Not to be rude, Neville, but, um ... I mean, I don't think she's crazy like some people, but ..." His words trailed off, and he gave a despairing don't-make-me-say-it look at the pile of cushions.

"Okay," Neville shrugged, "show me another Ravenclaw who's held their own against a dozen fully-grown Death Eaters - twice."

Anthony blushed as if caught, and Neville realized that until that moment, Luna's participation in the two fights had been written off by her fellow students as another of her fantasies. Now Anthony cleared his throat and asked tentatively, "You've really done that, Loon - I mean, Luna?"

She sat up, tucking her wand behind her ear and crossing her legs casually. "Oh yes. They're not that scary without their masks on, really. I find it's a lot easier to confront them if you take care of those little psychological games first, so I like to use a Banishing Charm on the masks as soon as it's convenient." The absolutely effortless conviction in her voice had a clear effect on the others, and Anthony's hand was the first into the air by less than a heartbeat.

"Okay," Neville smiled, "we have Luna Lovegood for Ravenclaw." He glanced around. "Hufflepuff ... Ernie?"

"Not meaning to second-guess your decision," Ernie said slowly, "but Hannah's a Prefect too, and I would frankly have expected you to choose her, as you have been known to be friends for some time. I hope that I'm not being selected because ..." he paused, then shrugged, "well, it's no secret you two had a bit of a tiff the other day."

"Actually, it's because she's my friend that I picked you." Neville met Hannah's eyes, hoping she would see that he was sincere. "I want to play to everyone's strengths in this, and for Hufflepuff, you're all such hard workers, that might not always mean the nicest jobs, and I don't want anything to get in the way of what's best for everyone. No offense, but you're not as likely to set off any Gryffindor chivalrous streak, Ernie." To his relief, Hannah didn't look angry at this. If anything, she looked rather touched, and he gave an inward sigh of relief.

Satisfied, Ernie made a little bow. "No offense taken, and I assume the position with the honor it was given."

"Great." Neville said, checking his notes again. "Then we just -"

His words were cut off by a loud crack, and three dozen wands appeared as if out of thin air, pointing at the bizarre figure that had just appeared in the middle of the room.

It was short, coming barely to Neville's waist, and wore what appeared to be a large copper cooking pot on its head, only the mouth, chin, and the tips of two bat-like ears visible beneath this strange helmet. One of Ron's unmistakable lumpy maroon Christmas sweaters had been shrunken into a kind of tunic, and two bandoleers of Tasmanian Thumping Toadstools were slung criss-cross over the thin chest. Each long foot was clad in a half-dozen wildly mismatched socks that dragged the floor, and the spindly hands clutched a rusty, ancient saber easily as tall as the entire creature, propping it over one shoulder like a rifle.

Ginny was the first to recover her voice. "Dobby?"

The house-elf snapped smartly to attention, clicking his heels together as crisply as the many socks would allow, though not seeming to realize that he was facing the blank wall. His high voice echoed oddly beneath the cavernous pot. "Dobby has come to join the friends of Harry Potter, sir!"

All of the veteran D.A. members exchanged a nervous glance. "Does Professor Snape know about this?" Neville asked.

"No, sir! Professor Snape cannot forbid Dobby from joining something he does not know about." The little mouth broke into a wide grin.

"Dobby can say nothing bad about Professor Snape, but Dobby can say that he is a very good Death Eater, oh yes, and that he is most faithful to the Dark Lord, and Neville Longbottom can make of that what he will!"

Neville smiled and lifted the pot off of the elf's head, revealing the huge eyes, which stared up at him with the open adoration that was reserved for the very closest friends of the idolized Harry Potter. "The house-elves do not like their new masters, sir. Dobby has formed H.E.L.P. for you!"

"H.E.L.P?"

"House-Elves to Liberate Potter! We are resisting, sir, in all the ways we can." His eyes narrowed, and he glanced around the room with a vindictive little look. "The Death Eaters, sir, we have neglected to salt their food! And we do not clean their washrooms quite as often! And sometimes..." He swallowed hard, trembling slightly with his own audacity. "... sometimes, we leave dust bunnies under their beds."

Neville barely managed to keep a straight face. "You don't dare."

Dobby nodded solemnly. "Oh, yes, Neville Longbottom, sir. We are most serious. We will assist the friends of Harry Potter any way we can. Dobby has come prepared to join the battle!" He made several swiping and thrusting motions with the immense sword, but it was too large for him, and he overbalanced, tripping on the dangling socks and falling to the floor in a heap of gangly limbs.

Giggling madly, Ginny extended a hand to help the now slightly cross-eyed elf to his feet again. "That's really brave of you, Dobby, but we're not fighting yet. This is just the first meeting."

Dobby looked crestfallen, and Neville knelt down so that they were at the same level. "You can still be helpful, though. I'm going to give you this;" he reached into his pocket and pulled out the charmed Galleon, "as a real D.A. member, so you know when we have meetings, and I want you to come and report on everything that Snape and the Carrows and the other followers of You-Know-Who have been up to. You're going to be our eyes and ears. It's a very important mission, can you handle it?"

The round eyes brimmed with tears of joy, and Neville had the breath driven from him as the surprisingly heavy elf threw himself onto Neville's neck in an enormous hug of gratitude. "Oh, yes! Yes! Dobby will tell Harry Potter's friends everything! Everything!"

Thankfully, Ginny saw that their leader was beginning to turn rather purple, and she gently pried the enthusiastic little creature's arms away. Her voice was still shaking with giggles, but she managed to keep her expression serious. "Okay, now you'd better get going before anyone misses you."

Dobby grabbed up his pot-helmet and planted it back on his head again, then snapped to attention and saluted the assembled D.A. with a loud clang. "Dobby will do his duty! And H.E.L.P. will see to it that best cakes and tea are in all the common rooms after the meeting, and that your rooms are most perfectly clean!" With another clanging salute and a crack, the elf was gone.

There was a long silence, and then Ernie Macmillan spoke, his face utterly deadpan. "Well, it's good to know we have allies."

Fritz Bagman nodded, though he could not keep his own laughter back so easily. "Thank goodness, or we might be facing dust bunnies as well as Death Eaters!"

This was the last straw for most of them, and the room dissolved into the giggles, laughter, and outright guffaws that had been held back while Dobby was there. It went on a long time, and as it was finally dying away, Neville wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robes and looked out across the room. Their numbers had stopped being intimidating now that they weren't all lined up in strict rows staring at him. Over the course of the meeting, the tight little groups of veterans and new people had collapsed. Now they were all mingled together: tall, confident seventh-years next to nervous fourth and fifth-years, bold Gryffindor scarlet, cool Ravenclaw blue, and bright Hufflepuff yellow mixing freely.

So many different skills and personalities, so many different backgrounds, hopes, and fears, but they were all there for one reason: the same reason that had driven the most servile and accommodating creatures in the magical world to what was for them the very extremity of revolt. They were there to fight, to defy the cruel, unjust tyranny that had been forced upon them. They would break this siege, and maybe, just possibly, it did not seem too much to hope that they might even win this war.

He wondered if this was how Harry had felt that first night in that dark, filthy pub in Hogsmeade, and he wondered where his friend was now. Somewhere You-Know-Who wouldn't like, he was certain. Neville closed his eyes, willing Harry and the others to know somehow that they were not alone. Whenever, wherever, however they were needed, they would be ready. He had an army at his command, and he was not afraid.

OOO

"Neville!" The suit of armor in the fifth-floor corridor seemed to have suddenly developed a girl's voice, and Neville jumped, snatching his wand out of the inside pocket of his robes as his bag hit the floor with a loud thud. "What?! Who?" There was no one there, not even in the dark shadows of the helmet's open faceplate, and he frowned. "Who said that?"

"It's me, Luna." As she spoke again, he recognized the voice, oddly distorted by the armor's tinny echo.

"Where are you?"

"In the Ravenclaw common room. I put a Ventrilocutious Charm on my voice. Can you hear me?"

It was very strange to be talking to an empty suit of armor, but Neville nodded, then paused, unsure if she could see him as well as hear him. He decided to play it safe. "Yes, what's going on?"

"There was something in the Quibbler this morning. The Prophet hasn't said anything, but I think people need to know. Can you call another meeting?"

"Not yet. It's only been three days since the last one, and I don't want to make them too close together."

Luna's soft voice had an edge of excitement to it that Neville had rarely heard before. "It's worth it, really!"

Taking a deep breath, he considered it for a moment. It would be risky, but anything that could get Luna Lovegood so worked up probably was worth the chance. Although, he thought, if it's just that someone has sighted a Blibbering Whatsit or a Crinkle-Horned Thingy, I'll kill her. "All right," he agreed, "watch your coin ... I can't chance another full meeting, but I'll call the Lieutenants."

The faceplate of the helmet clanked shut in answer, and Neville picked up his bag again, breaking into a jog as he continued down the corridor towards the now-renamed Dark Arts classroom. Lateness was not as tolerated as it once had been.

OOO

He had thought that the Room of Requirement would seem cavernous and empty with only four people present, but it had proved adaptable as ever. Although it had been vastly proportioned every time he had been in there before, it was now no larger than a modest sitting room, comfortably furnished with four leather chairs surrounding an elegant wooden table in front of a crackling fire. The banners of their three houses hung above the stone mantle, and quills, parchment, and ink had been ready at each place, a shining silver Sneakoscope perched silently in the middle of the table.

Neville looked at the three fellow students sitting around him. Ernie had come directly from Quidditch practice, and his hair was still wet from the showers, a white towel slung around his neck against the canary yellow and black trim of his track suit. Ginny had a quill stuck behind one ear and a splotch of ink on her nose, her sleeves rolled up to reveal a half-dozen notes on spell pronunciation jotted on the back of her hand and forearm. Only Luna seemed to have not been caught in the middle of something else, sitting neatly in her uniform with her usual radish-shaped earrings dangling beneath her long mane of pale blonde hair.

Ernie looked at her with barely-concealed annoyance as he took the towel from around his neck and rubbed at his head vigorously, scattering a few drops of water over the rest of them. "You said it was important, Luna?"

"It's about Harry."

With those words, Luna captured the undivided attention of all three of them, and Neville leaned towards her, propping himself on his elbows. "Is he all right?"

She reached into her bag and pulled out what looked like a roll of class notes, but as she spread them on the table in front of them, they transformed into a copy of the Quibbler. The headline seemed to scream up at them:

Harry Potter Defies Ministry with Daring Break-In! Dozens of Muggle-Borns Spirited to Safety!

"It happened a week ago," she explained, "but it was completely hushed up by the Ministry, and Dad didn't start getting reports from witnesses who had escaped until the weekend. He printed a special edition for it."

Neville squinted at the blurry photograph on the front page. It had clearly been taken by someone who had no chance to properly aim the camera, but it seemed to show a large, burly wizard with a thick beard shoving a middle-aged couple into one of the Ministry fireplaces as he fired a spell back over his shoulder. "I don't see Harry anywhere."

"That's him." Luna tapped the photo with her wand, indicating the tall wizard. "It looks like the Death Eater, Runcorn, but witnesses say he broke into the courtrooms where the MBRC was holding those awful trials, Stunned Umbridge and Yaxley, and produced a stag Patronus to get past the Dementors and help about fifty people escape!"

Ginny let out a little gasp. "Polyjuice Potion! It's what we used at the wedding to hide Harry! They must have nicked some!"

Ernie leaned in close to the picture, his eyes searching it hungrily. "That might be Harry's wand, now that I look at it."

"And Mafalda Hopkirk was helping him, and Reginald Cattermole, and they don't even work in the same Department ... and Cattermole himself swears that Mafilda called Runcorn 'Harry,' and that their Patronuses were an otter and a little dog."

Neville jumped to his feet, unable to suppress a cry of triumph as he pumped his fist in the air. "Ron and Hermione, I knew it! I knew they'd fight him!"

"Did they get away?" Ginny's voice was barely more than a whisper, her face pale as she trailed her fingers almost wistfully over the newspaper. Luna nodded, and her eyes closed. Neville thought he saw a glimmer of tears beneath the thick, coppery lashes, and she let out a thin little laugh. "He's alive."

He wondered if she meant Harry or her brother - or if she even knew herself - and he placed one hand on her shoulder, giving it a small, comforting squeeze as he leaned in over the table. "You're right, Luna, that is fantastic news. Do you have any more of these?"

She shook her head. "No, but I'm sure we can figure out a way to smuggle them in. I'll put Ravenclaw on it. If there's a spell out there that will get them in past the new security, we'll find it. I can get this one because my Dad and I have Encrypting Amulets that let him send me the Quibbler as simple letters, but it only works for one copy at a time, and it might look a little suspicious if he started writing me dozens of letters at once."

"Speaking of dozens ..." All eyes turned to Ernie, who was smiling a bit ruefully. "I was going to wait to tell you, old chap, but we may have a wee problem with Hufflepuff."

Neville frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, of course, no one has been able to say anything with the Fidelius in place, but there's been a good amount of guessing, and I've been getting a lot of requests. There are a few more who want to join, it seems."

"How is that a problem?" Ginny asked.

Ernie gave a nervous little laugh. "I think it might be noticed if every Hufflepuff in fourth year and up vanished at the same time every week or so."

"All of them?" Neville was dumbstruck.

"All but six, to be exact. And those six are new to Hogwarts this year; they were being taught at home before it became mandatory."

"But ... all of them?"

His disbelief seemed to have rather offended Ernie, and he crossed thick arms over his chest, his chin thrust out as if daring anyone to question him further. "All of us who were there for Cedric Diggory."

Neville blushed, feeling abruptly stupid. "I'm sorry. I should have -"

"You're usually the house that turns out the heroes, no one's going to pretend you're not." Ernie gave a respectful little nod towards Ginny and Neville. "But Cedric was ours, and he was bloody magnificent. Brave, smart, good-looking ... everyone said he was the best Hufflepuff had to offer in fifty years, and that's not saying so little as you lot might think. More Orders of Merlin have gone to Hufflepuff than Gryffindor, you know. You might go leaping to the front when a fight breaks out, but we're the ones who never even think of giving up, no matter what."

Nodding, Nevillle sat down again, looking at Ernie with a touch of shame. "I never meant it like that. I used to wish desperately I was one of you."

Now it was Ernie's turn to look stunned. "But you're a Gryffindor."

"Well," he cast a quick look at Ginny, "I'm willing to try to be one now, but I've never really felt like I fit there. I used to watch you guys during Herbology, or out on the grounds and think that you'd care that I always try, that I always work my hardest, that I'm always loyal, even if I usually fall on my face when I try to do anything heroic. I mean, the greatest glory I've ever brought to Gryffindor before now was getting ten points for being Body-Bound by Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they went off to save the school." He pointed to the yellow and black badger banner hanging over the fire.

"I cried myself half sick when Cedric was killed. Don't ever think I don't respect you."

Ernie seemed as though he had been given a gift that he could not quite comprehend as he dipped his head towards Neville. "Thank you. Truly." Then he smiled. "And good to hear, as you are up to your eyes in us now."

Neville laughed. "I guess I am." He thought about it a moment. "How about you, Hannah, and two more from forth, fifth, and sixth years who are already D.A. come to the official meetings, and then you can have your own meetings inside Hufflepuff for everyone else? I'll get with Colin later tonight to extend the Fidelius Charm over the whole upper years for you."

"Well," Ginny broke in, "now that you boys have finished sorting out whose house has the bigger recruitment, have you given any thought to what this -" she tapped the Quibbler "-- really means?"

Luna gave her a quizzical stare. "It means they're alive and fighting, of course, and that they set all those poor Muggle-borns free."

"That's all very nice, don't get me wrong, but they wouldn't have broken into the Ministry itself just for that. It says here that they took a locket from Umbridge, according to Mrs. Cattermole. When I found Harry by Dumbledore's body this spring, he had a locket in his hands. And at Grimmauld Place, there was a locket nobody could open...they had all kinds of weird Dark artifacts." Her eyes flashed vividly, and her small hand curled into a fist, striking against the table for emphasis. "It's too much to be a coincidence .... I bet they're the same one! We have got to know what's so important about that locket, so we can help them!"

"Did you get a chance to see what it looked like?" Neville asked.

She closed her eyes, screwing up her face in concentration before she spoke. "I only saw it clearly at Grimmauld Place. It was silver. Pretty good-sized. With a letter on the front. I think it was 'S'."

Luna's protuberant eyes widened. "Oooh, 'S' for Slytherin, maybe?"

"I doubt Harry wanted it because it stood for Seeker," Ernie said sarcastically.

"Slytherin, Seeker, Snargaluff, whatever ... why was Harry willing to risk everything to get it?" Neville stared at his hands as if he might find that he was accidentally holding the answer. "He's not going to defeat You-Know-Who by waving jewelry at him. It's got to have some magical function or property, or maybe there's something inside the locket he wants. What would be small enough to fit in a locket that could be that important?"

There was a long pause as they all considered this. Luna's mouth opened several times as if she were going to say something, but each time she stopped, shaking her head in dismissal before resuming her stare at the ceiling. Finally, Ginny spoke. Her voice sounded oddly hollow, and even in the warm light from the fire, her face was ashen. "Maybe not what. Maybe who."

Neville's expression of confusion was mirrored in the other two faces at the table. "Ginny?"

"The Chamber of Secrets. Harry never talked about what had happened because he didn't want me to get in trouble. There was a diary. It used to belong to Tom Riddle. That's who You-Know-Who was before he was You-Know-Who, only I didn't know that. I just thought it was a magic diary that had belonged to a really nice boy who wrote back to me when I wrote in it." She hid her face in her hands. "I was so stupid!"

Neville reached out and gently pulled her hands away from her face, taking her chin in his palm and turning her to face him. "You were eleven. Don't beat yourself up over what's past. Whatever happened because of that diary, no one was killed, or even permanently hurt in the whole Chamber business. Now, tell us why you think that the locket has something to do with the Chamber of Secrets ... or, I'm guessing, the Heir of Slytherin."

She took a deep breath, pulling back from his hand and tossing her hair defiantly as she pulled herself together again. "Tom Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin. He...he possessed me. Made me do things. It wasn't just his diary, it had a sort of living memory of him in it. Like a portrait, but stronger."

"And you think," Neville said slowly, "that the locket might have the same kind of memory in it?"

"Exactly. And I think ..." Ginny trailed off a moment, then when she began again, her voice was shaking, barely audible. "... oh, God, I think Harry is trying to get himself possessed."

Ernie swore. "Why would he do something that ..." Clearly at a loss for words, he swore again, and Neville found himself quite agreeing with the sentiment.

Ginny's eyes seemed to have gone utterly dead now, her voice toneless. "When his scar hurts him, he can see into You-Know-Who's mind. Luna, Neville, you remember: that's why he thought Sirius was at the Ministry. But it wasn't trustworthy. He tricked Harry. I think that Harry wants to get himself possessed to make the connection complete. Because with Dumbledore gone, the only wizard as strong as You-Know-Who is You-Know-Who. Harry is going to become him to stop him. If he has the locket, maybe he's already done it."

"I don't think so." Luna seemed amazingly calm in light of what Ginny had just said, even though Neville felt as though he'd been struck full in the face with a particularly well-hit Bludger. "I think you're right about the locket being some kind of memory-keeper, like the diary, but if Harry had already used it, he'd either have killed You-Know-Who or lost himself and joined him by now." "Unless," Ernie said quietly, "he did lose himself and Ron and Hermione had to kill him."

Neville shook his head quickly, forcing his voice to be strong and confident as he stood up. "No! We can't let ourselves start thinking that way ... there's too many 'ifs' there. If the locket is Slytherin's. If it's got a memory-thing in it. If Harry got possessed. If he couldn't handle that. There's at least four ifs before we get to Harry being dead, and I'm not going to believe that."

He looked at Ginny, who had pulled her knees up to her chest and sat huddled in her chair, looking very tiny indeed. "I'm with Luna as far as I think you're right about what the locket is, but I don't think Harry would take any chances of letting it possess him. If it's like a portrait of You-Know-Who, I think he would question it any way he could, that he'd want information from it, and then he'd destroy it. I don't think he's done it yet because we have what he needs to destroy it, and he doesn't want to let it out until he can."

"The Room of Requirement?" Luna asked.

"No. Ginny, how did he stop the Heir of Slytherin last time?" He looked around, his eyes gleaming wildly with the thrill of having, for once, put the pieces together himself. "Remember, he told us all the very first time the D.A. ever met. The Sword of Gryffindor! Harry needs the sword, and we have it here at Hogwarts!"

Ginny uncurled, leaning forward, hope flooding into her eyes even as the color returned to her cheeks. "You're right, Neville! It's the Sword! If he gets the Sword ... oh, and I bet that's what he has to have to kill him, too! Only the Sword of Gryffindor can defeat the Heir of Slytherin ... and You-Know-Who is the Heir!"

Ernie frowned. "But if Dumbledore had the Sword all those years, why not just take out You-Know-Who himself?"

"Only a true Gryffindor can wield the Sword," Luna informed them.

"Dumbledore told Professor Flitwick that he always considered himself very nearly a Ravenclaw. It's something Professor Flitwick's always felt proud about and reminded us. Maybe it kept him from being able to use the Sword, though."

"Maybe." Neville agreed. "But it means that sooner or later, Harry is going to come back to Hogwarts for the Sword, and that's when we're going to have to fight. I mean, even if Harry takes out You-Know-Who himself, I don't intend to just let Snape and the Carrows and -" Bellatrix Lestrange, he thought. "And all the Death Eaters walk free, or just assume they'll let Harry walk up to You-Know-Who and say 'Hey, I have something here, let's see if it'll kill you.'"

"I wonder," mused Luna, "how he's going to get in? Polyjuice Potion won't get him through all the security into Hogwarts. All the secret passages are sealed. The Death Eaters know all about the Vanishing Cabinets. And I bet there's extra security on the Headmaster's office."

"Blimey -" Neville let out a low groan, sinking back into his chair.

"That's lovely. It's in Snape's office."

"So?" asked Ernie stubbornly.

"Well, it's not going to be a cakewalk for him to get in there," Ginny said.

"Then we help. That's what we're here for, if I'm not mistaken." The Hufflepuff had crossed his arms again, planting himself in the chair as though someone were going to try and physically force him to back down.

"But," Ginny protested, "breaking into Snape's office? That'll take weeks of planning if we want half a chance of pulling it off!"

"So it takes weeks. Or months." Ernie shrugged. "We work from the inside, he works from the outside, and whoever gets to the Sword first, it's all for the better. Either Harry already has a plan, or we have a rather lovely present for him when he shows up thinking he'll still have half the job ahead of him." He glanced across the table. "Neville, you're our leader, the final word is yours. What shall we do about the Sword?"

Neville did not hesitate. "We get it. You're right, we take as long as we need to, and we use that time to train ourselves into fighters, because Harry could show up any day now, and this isn't just about defensive magic any more. I'm going to ask Dobby to find out everything he can about the security on Snape's office, that's a start." He reached for the quill and started to make notes on the parchment in front of him. "Luna, I want you to get the Ravenclaws on two things: first, every spell you can find that we could use on the Death Eaters that they'll have never heard of. Arcane, foreign, outright bizarre, whatever ... as long as they're workable. If you want us to attack them with Crinkly-Horned Snorkles -"

"Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," Luna corrected him, a bit snippily.

"Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. That's fine with me as long as you can produce one and show us how to aim the blasted thing. Second, anything you can get about Slytherin having a locket." He turned to Ginny. "I want anything we can get to try and sort out what Harry's up to. This has been his house, and he's been a celebrity since before he got here. You're a girl, so you should be even more suited to this. I want every rumor, every piece of gossip, every hint of anything that has gone around about him for the last six years. Anything people have seen, heard, read, or been told. And I want you to sift through that as someone who actually knows him and see if you can filter out anything that could help us get inside that scarred head of his and help him."

Ginny grinned rather wolfishly, and he had the feeling his orders were going to be used to settle a few private scores. "With pleasure."

Neville paused, noting the assignments on the parchment, then turned to his last Lieutenant. "Ernie, I'm going to be honest with you ... the only reason Slytherin had the Quidditch Cup all those years before we had Harry as Seeker is because they play dirty. You guys always turn out the best athletes."

"There is nothing," Ernie pointed out, "glorious, cunning, or particularly learned about a pushup."

"Exactly. And fighting is about just as much running and ducking as it is Hexing and Charms." Neville swallowed his pride with some difficulty and took a pinch of his own waist to demonstrate his point to the other boy. "I'm not the chubby little kid I used to be, but I'm not in that great of shape either. A lot of us aren't. I want Hufflepuff to whip us into fighting trim. No one needs to die because they were too out of breath to cast a Shield Charm."

Ernie leaned back, stretching his own brawny arms in front of him and cracking his knuckles. "I hope you're prepared to be rather sore, dear chum."

Neville looked down at the list in front of him. At the top, the words Get Gryffindor's Sword seemed to mock him. It seemed so easy just written there. He looked up again, meeting Ernie's eyes as a great wave of exhaustion seemed to crash over him. "Ernie, being sore is the least of my problems now."

OOO

"She's not human, I swear. Absolute heart of stone." Lavender Brown gave the chocolate gateau in the center of the table a look of the deepest longing, then sighed, staring down at the apple that sat forlornly in the middle of her plate. "I mean, maybe I'm not going out for the Holier-than-thou-head Harpies any time soon like some people think they are, but there's nothing wrong with me, either."

Parvati nodded, slicing her own apple in half with unnecessary violence. "Neville, she's a monster. She made us do situps and jumping jacks until I thought I was going to die. I was dripping sweat. Harry never made us do anything like that!"

Neville glanced around, then gave the two of them a warning look as he pulled out his wand beneath the table. "Muffliato." Satisfied that the charm was in place, he leaned forward. "Could you please keep the whinging down? Harry was teaching us what to do if we found ourselves in a bad situation. That's not the same as being at war. We're not trying to get out of a fight alive, we're planning to start one and last as long as we can in it. And I'm not sympathetic. Rowan Glynnis is taking it easy on you."

"You weren't there," Lavender announced in a martyred tone.

"No, I was with Bagman and the rest of the blokes. I'd be happy to switch. Look -" He held up his goblet in one hand, and the pumpkin juice almost sloshed over the edge. "- I'm still shaking. Did either of you need to tie your shoes with magic this morning because you were too sore to bend over?"

Neither girl answered, though he was quite sure he heard Parvati mutter something under her breath that involved what she would like to do if he bent over. Ignoring her, Neville sat back, being sure to not even glance at the pyramid of cream puffs heaped tantalizingly in front of him as he reached past them for an orange. He was their leader, and it wouldn't do to show that he was having second, third, and even fourth thoughts of his own. There was something insult to injury about laying your life on the line in noble resistance also meaning that you had to turn down custard tarts and toffee pudding.

His bitter musings were interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing at the staff table. Neville looked up as the entire room fell stonily silent. Professor Snape got to his feet, sweeping his black robe around him like a regal mantle. Neville's hands clenched into fists, and he felt a vein begin to pulse in his temple. The sight of Snape at the throne-like Headmaster's chair - Dumbledore's chair - still filled him with a choking rage.

He took what comfort he could in the rigid postures and disapproving glares of the other teachers. Only the Carrows, themselves seeming thuggishly out of place at the staff table, looked anything other than incensed, and Neville allowed the tiniest of bitter smiles. It's not just us. They know what you are, you filthy traitor. They know, and one of these days, we'll all make you pay. They're not afraid of you, it's You-Know-Who that scares them. Even I'm not afraid of you any more, because I've realized you're a coward. You'll terrorize kids and murder a defenseless old man in cold blood, but you ran when you had to confront what you'd done. You ran and hid behind your Master, and now you'll only face us because he's got your back.

"Silence." The order was unneeded. Although the waves of hate rolling up from the students were almost palpable, no one seemed to have even breathed since Snape stood. He looked down his hooked nose at the assemblage, his lip curling into a familiar sneer. "Well, apparently, it does not take long for gratitude to wear thin. Only a little more than one week into the school year, and already the Carrows and Mr. Filch tell such tales. Tsk tsk. The Dark Lord values your education more highly than you do, it would seem."

His black eyes swept over their faces, settling at the Gryffindor table. For one horrible moment, Neville thought that they were staring directly at him, that he somehow knew, but then he realized that they were focused on Seamus, only two places to his left.

"Mr. Finnigan showed profound disrespect in Muggle Studies. Miss Lovegood" - the dark gaze turned to the Ravenclaw table- "thought she would favor her classmates with a very unflattering artistic rendition of her Dark Arts teacher, which was intercepted and destroyed. And the younger Mr. Creevey" - Dennis shrunk down on his seat as Snape found him - "seems to think that he has a talent for mimicking me in the corridors. And this does not even begin to address the overall lax attitude that the Carrows report being shown toward the subjects that the Dark Lord himself has personally chosen for you to study."

Snape strode around the staff table to stand in front, one long, sallow hand tapping his wand into his other palm. "Your Heads of House have assured me that they will address these matters, but in my years here as a teacher, I have observed a certain ..." he cast a distinctly nasty look at Professor McGonagall, who bristled, her lips vanishing in a thin line of fury, "inability on their part to control those students who are determined to misbehave. Professors Alecto and Amycus Carrow will therefore be handling all matters of discipline here at Hogwarts from now on. I believe you will find them far more ..." He paused, then smiled humorlessly. "Motivating."

Behind him, the Carrows stood, and Neville shivered at the toothy leers they gave. There was pain in those smiles. "All of you," Snape went on, "are here because you carry true magical blood. This school may have been allowed to run riot in the past, but the Dark Lord has higher expectations. I suggest you live up to them."

He waved his wand, and the plates and goblets disappeared, leaving the tables bare. A few first-years who had not yet finished let out cries of dismay, but they were quickly hushed by the older students at their tables, and Neville thought he saw a flicker of triumph cross Snape's face as he resumed his seat. "You may go back to your dormitories now. Some of you have Dark Arts tomorrow. I recommend you take the time to study."

There was no sound but the scraping of benches and the shuffling of hundreds of feet as the students made their way out of the Great Hall, but the moment they crossed the threshold, whispered conversations broke out so furiously that it sounded as though a swarm of bees had been waiting for them. Seamus was at Neville's side in an instant. "The Carrows handle discipline? Is he mad? They'll make Umbridge look like a fairy princess!"

Neville nodded gravely. "If we're lucky."

"What do we do?" Colin had pushed his way through the crowd, one arm wrapped protectively around his younger brother's shoulders. Dennis was trembling and looked as though he might be sick at any moment. "We can't let him get away with this!"

"There's no choice. He's the Headmaster; if he thinks that discipline needs to be tightened, he can choose whoever he wants to do it. It's his right, whether or not we like it. I mean, we're just kids." Colin gaped at him as though he had uttered a terrible obscenity, but Neville jerked his head slightly towards a handful of green-robed fifth-years that had clustered by the staircase only a few paces away. Slytherins, he mouthed, and was relieved to see understanding dawn on his friends' faces as he continued loudly. "We'll simply have to behave ourselves."

"I'll practice my puckering up," said Seamus wryly.

"Just be careful." Ginny had joined them, and she kept her voice low as they moved up the stairs past the lingering Slytherins. "If you're planning to kiss Alecto's arse, you'll have to look twice to make sure you're not aiming for her face."

Neville started to laugh, then clamped his hand over his mouth, his body shaking as he held it back, every sore muscle aching with the effort. Finally, shaking his head, he managed to gasp out, "Ginny, I think I know why Harry fell for you."

She gave a cheeky grin, tossing her hair and pretending to preen her reflection as they passed a window. "Oh, I don't know. I think he just likes living dangerously."

Seamus grinned back at her. "You mean the six overprotective twits you call brothers, or just yourself?"

"I'm more than you can handle, Finnigan," she shot back.

He raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Love, I may mouth off at the Carrows, but I don't fancy myself brave enough to argue with you."

Neville allowed the laugh this time, and it almost seemed like old times again as he listened to them banter back and forth while they climbed the stairs to the familiar portrait that covered the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady looked as nervous as she had since school began, and the moment she saw them coming, she shooed away the pinch-faced witch in medieval robes whom she had been whispering with. "Password?" she asked with stiff-backed propriety.

"Blood Status," Neville said, exchanging a distasteful little glance with her as she swung open and revealed the entry.

As soon as the portrait hole had shut behind them, Gryffindors seemed to materialize from everywhere at once, and Neville found himself surrounded, the babble of fifty voices rendering any individual question, outburst, or demand utterly meaningless. He spread his hands desperately, shouting to make himself heard. "Whoa! Everybody calm down! Back off! I can't listen to all of you at the same time!"

The outcry faded away, and he took a step forward away from the portrait hole, grabbing a chair and dropping into it backwards, his elbows resting on the back as he ran his fingers through his hair. "I know what's going on. We all heard it. I just have to think."

He closed his eyes, feeling once again like he had never given Harry enough credit for how hard it was to simply have so many people looking at you. They expected him to have answers instantly, and for everything, as if the past six years of utterly dismissing him had never happened. Everything's changed so much, he thought bemusedly, I guess it's not that big a deal to have the house loser suddenly in charge.

Finally, he opened his eyes again and looked up, taking a deep breath as he saw that everyone had formed a circle around him, waiting as if for some grand revelation. The idea that had formed seemed pathetically feeble in the face of all their expectations, but it was all he had. "I'm going to have to find out for myself what this really means."

Ginny frowned, two thin vertical lines of worry appearing between her brows. "Neville, I really hope you aren't planning to get in trouble on purpose."

"It's the only way." He shrugged, but his voice was firm. "We can sit here and speculate all we want, but we can't really decide what to do about this until we know what it actually means that the Carrows are going to be handling discipline. I mean, who could have guessed what Umbridge was going to do? We know what happens when Alecto loses her temper," he gestured at Seamus, "but not when they're planning it. It could just be awful detentions like Snape gives, or it could be getting horsewhipped by Filch, or anything, really. We can't know until it happens to someone, and we can't decide what to do about it until we know."

The younger students gazed at him with a mixture of horror and awe, but it was the uncomfortable looks exchanged among the sixth- and seventh-years that told Neville he was right. Finally, Lavender shook her head. "I don't know. What if it's something terrible?"

"I don't expect it to be a hundred lines of 'I will be a good little minion' and then tea and biscuits," he retorted.

"You can't." It was Parvati who spoke, and although her voice was soft, there was a finality to it that carried across the outbreak of muttering that had come behind his last statement. She took a step forward, and Neville felt a chill as he saw that everything in her bearing had changed. Her head was held high, the firelight shining off her skin like a bronze statue as she seemed to glide into the center of the ring of Gryffindors to stand next to him.

"If you do it, Neville, we won't really know what the Carrows will do to the rest of us. You were at the Ministry, you were at the tower, your parents were Aurors. They'll come down on you hard, no matter what. It has to be someone who's never been in trouble with them before." Each syllable was clearly enunciated with a sickening decisiveness. "Like me."

Neville shook his head. "No, I won't let you."

She turned on him, her eyes flashing with sudden ferocity. "Why?"

He floundered, trying to explain what seemed so obvious that he couldn't find the words. "Well, you're --"

"If you're going to say 'a girl', then why don't you go fetch Hermione from wherever you've been keeping her safe?" Parvati spat. "Or for that matter, tell Alecto Carrow or Bellatrix LeStrange that they're supposed to be sheltered and dainty."

The mention of Bellatrix sent a hot flush into Neville's cheeks, but he bit his lip, looking down at the carpet to avoid the intensity of Parvati's stare. Feeling cornered, he glanced around the faces of his classmates, but it only made the growing certainty that she was right intensify. The thought of using one of the younger kids was too repellant to contemplate, and all of the seventh-year Gryffindors that remained had, as she had pointed out, reasons to draw unusual fury down on themselves. The only other possibility that he could see was Lavender, and she had not volunteered. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded, and his voice was a rough whisper when he finally spoke. "All right."

"Good." Parvati gave a grim smile. "But everyone had better behave themselves tomorrow. I want to stand out."

OOO

The Dark Arts class had been in session for ten minutes with no sign of Parvati, and Neville had not heard a word that Carrow had told them about creating Inferi. Normally, no matter his distaste for the subject, the sight of a corpse on the teacher's desk would have been more than enough to hold his attention, but he was utterly preoccupied with a growing hope that she would not show up. He didn't think she would have chickened out, but maybe something at breakfast had made her sick? Maybe she had sprained an ankle on a trick step?

He had just made up his mind to pay attention enough to think of something infuriating to say when the door burst open. Parvati breezed in as though she hadn't a care in the world, plopping her bag onto the desk and taking her customary seat next to Lavender Brown.

She swept a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes and looked up at Carrow with wide-eyed innocence. "Sorry I'm late, Professor," she said airily, "I have all my important classes written down, but I just forgot about Dark Whatsits."

Amycus Carrow seemed to inflate with fury for a moment, then the redness that had begun to creep up from his collar receded, and he fingered his wand almost lovingly. "No, Miss Patil, I oughta thank you," he sneered. "Fer lettin' me demonstrate to the class jes' how serious Professor Snape is about maintainin' order in his school."

For the first time, Parvati noticed the dead body at the head of the classroom, and her eyes flickered to the pictures still on the wall from Professor Snape's tenure the year before. The bloody mass that he had indicated as the wrath of the Inferi writhed pathetically in its frame, and she turned a sickly greenish shade, genuine fear reflected in her eyes as Carrow advanced across the room.

Neville wanted to look away, but he couldn't, fixated by the terror that he felt radiating from every other Gryffindor there. What have I done? he thought desperately. I should never have let her ... what have I DONE?

After what seemed like an age, Carrow reached the petrified witch and extended his wand. She closed her eyes, her hands tightening on the edge of the desk, but he only placed it beneath her chin obscenely gently as he raised her face to him. "Let's see ..." His coarse voice was a terrible purr. "Mister ... Nott."

Parvati's eyes opened, staring up at Carrow in confusion as the Slytherin stood, bowing obsequiously. "Yes, sir?"

"I don't like wastin' the chance ta teach." He didn't break eye contact with Parvati as he raised the wand to caress her cheek. "Miss Patil can learn 'bout punctuality, and you can practice one of the three Primary Curses. I don't reckon Imperio's what we need here, Avada Kedavra might be a bit extreme, but I think Crucio's 'zactly what she needs to help her remember 'Dark Whatsits.'"

Nott's thin face gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he pushed up the sleeves of his robe and drew his wand. "Yes, sir!"

Everything had taken on a horrible air of unreality. As if in a dream, Neville watched helplessly as Nott advanced on Parvati, still held frozen in place at the tip of Carrow's wand. Then the Slytherin snapped his wand at her and shouted the curse, and he closed his eyes. Parvati screamed. It was the worst sound Neville had ever heard in his life. High and shrill, it cut into him as though the pain were his own. It went on and on. Each shriek crested like a scarlet wave before spending itself into thin, razored gasps of agony, and then the screams rasped away as her voice broke, and now there were other sounds: hisses and anguished breaths punctuated by the dull clatter of flesh flailing uselessly against wood and stone.

He couldn't look. Already, he felt as though he were teetering on the edge of losing his mind. It hadn't been this bad when Seamus was being tortured. He too had gone into it knowingly, but there had been a difference there, and it wasn't just the difference between boy and girl. Seamus had approached it out of his own bravado. Parvati was their sacrificial lamb, and each scream was an accusation, a condemnation of his failure as a leader to find another way, any other way.

The sounds faded to a silence so thick it felt like a tangible thing, oily and dirty against his skin. Then Carrow laughed, and it was too much. Neville leaned over, barely managing to clear the edge of his desk as he was violently, brutally sick.

OOO

"Calm down, mate. A person'd think Parvati was up there havin' your baby to look at you." Seamus spoke soothingly, but his only reward was a dirty glare as Neville continued to pace the Gryffindor common room in long, rapid strides, running his hands through his hair every few passes as if he could push the sounds of Parvati's screams out of his memory.

"It'd be less my fault if she was." He cast another longing look at the entrance to the girls' dormitory, hating the charm that kept him locked out. "Isn't there any way I can get up there?"

"Guys have been tryin' for centuries." The other boy shook his head regretfully. "Not a chance."

"Why did they have to hide her away like that?" Neville made no attempt to hide the anguish in his voice. "I just want to know if she's all right!"

"It was no big deal strippin' me down to my shorts to check me over," Seamus pointed out gently, "but girls are a bit touchier about things.

She pounded against that chair something wicked, and Ginny and them'll have to take her to what she was born with or at least to knickers to make sure they've got her properly taken care of."

Neville stopped his pacing at the closed door, staring at it as though he could discover what was happening on the other side by sheer force of will. The door remained mockingly opaque, and he slammed his fists against it, rattling the hinges and sending a small cluster of first and second-years scurrying for cover. "It's my fault! It's all my fault!" He struck the door again, reveling in the pain that shot through his arms and shoulders at the impact.

"Hey, now." Hands had grabbed him by the upper arms now, pulling him back, and Neville twisted in his friend's grasp, infuriated to find that Seamus was much stronger than he had imagined from someone half a head shorter and a good thirty pounds lighter than himself.

"Let go! Let go before I -"

"Do somethin' really stupid, I know." Neville twisted to reach his wand, but his arms were pinned behind him now, and he could only thrash uselessly.

"Now, don't make me take you down." The voice in his ear was all the more enraging for its calm, and Neville let out a roar of fury and summoned all his strength, throwing off the restraining hold and whirling around, wand at the ready.

He had not even steadied his aim before the jet of light hit him full in the chest. "Petrificus Totalus!"

The all-too-familiar sensation of complete immobility seized him, and Neville crashed to the ground, unable to so much as twitch a finger as Seamus leaned over him. "I didn't want to do that, mate, but you'd bloody lost it, and I couldn't have you raisin' enough ruckus to bring the Carrows in."

Neville hoped that his eyes could convey the filthy names running through his head, but Seamus seemed to guess them well enough. "I'm goin' to take this," he felt his wand slip from his stiffened fingers, "and then I'm goin' to count ten and release the Body Bind, and we're goin' to deal with this like grown men and wizards, not Bludger-headed giants. The last thing Parvati needs is to hear you carryin' on down here. She's liable to think the battle's started without her. All right? One ... two ..."

At ten, Seamus waved the two wands together, and Neville felt a sense of freedom return to his body. He flexed his fingers, satisfied to feel them responding to his command again, and then pushed himself to a sitting position. He had expected to want to throttle Seamus, but it seemed as though all the fight had drained out of him as the ability to move had poured back in, and all it had left behind was a horrible void like a gaping, bleeding wound. Shaking, he ran a hand over his face, startled to feel that it was slick with sweat. "I ... I'm sorry," he managed.

"No worries." The sandy head tilted curiously. "Did you go that nuts when I was down? I might be flattered."

"You did it to yourself, you moron." Neville allowed himself the faintest ghost of a smile. "Why would I feel bad about that?"

"True enough."

He got up, contemplating resuming pacing again for a long moment before simply dropping onto the nearest couch in defeat. "I don't get it."

"What?"

"How you can be so calm." Neville motioned towards the closed door.

"You were there too. You saw, you heard ..." He couldn't finish.

"Dean." Seamus sat down on the arm of the couch and handed back the confiscated wand as he explained. "Dean's my best mate, and he's always been the one in our year with the most plain horse sense, as Mum called it. I was ready to go flyin' off at Carrow myself, but then you sicked all over, and it was like I could hear him in my head. 'Seamus,' he said, 'Neville's not takin' this well, and he's the best hope all of you've got. What's done to Parvati's done, but you'd better watch out for him, or you're all as good as wandless.' That helped, odd enough. Gave me somethin' to do, and the helpless bit is always the worst. So Ginny and the girls are seein' to Parvati, and I'm here preventin' our fearless leader from tearin' down the castle."

"I'm not your leader anymore. I'm disbanding the D.A.." He sat up and fished in his pocket for the fake Galleon, flinging it across the room without looking at it.

"You can't!" The shock in the other boy's voice gave Neville a dark pleasure, and he felt guiltily pleased that he had finally broken the maddening composure. "This time last week, you're sayin' we've got to be ready to die, and now you're givin' up because one person got punished?!"

"He had her Cruciated." Neville turned, gesturing fiercely towards the girl's dorm. "Cruciated for something that Snape would have taken fifty points for on his worst days. I can't make you all go through that!"

Seamus' cheeks were flushed, and his blue eyes glinted defiantly. "Speak for yourself; I've had it done, and I'll take it again if need be!"

"I've had it too! And I know what it can do better than you! There's things worse than death, Finnigan! There's things you don't even -"

He broke off, and a long silence lingered between them before he could force himself to speak again as he stared into the common room fire. They had the room to themselves now, the few other students having long fled, but he still kept his voice low, barely above a whisper. "I wasn't raised by my Gran because my parents are dead. I've just let people think that."

"I don't -"

"They were tortured by Death Eaters. Cruciated until they lost their minds. They've been in St. Mungo's for sixteen years now. They don't even know who they are. They don't even know who I am. I'm not going to see that happen to any of my friends because I have to prove I'm a great, heroic Gryffindor after all."

"Bloody hell." Seamus slid off the arm of the couch to sit closer to Neville, placing one hand gingerly on his friend's back. "That's ..."

"That's why I'm disbanding the D.A.," Neville said firmly. "I couldn't live with that."

"Fair enough." There was a long pause, and then Seamus spoke again. "But if we're comin' clean about things, I'd ask you to listen to why I'm going to keep fightin', whether or not you disband Dumbledore's Army."

Neville nodded, not sure if he was unable or just unwilling to say anything more.

"When you go home, you go home to two parents who don't know you, and that's a terrible thing. But they're at peace in whatever place they've gone to inside their heads, sure as if they were dead. I don't go home to peace. I go home to Belfast. Pipe bombs and assassins in the night. You-Know-Who is full of hate, and I know what hate does." Seamus' voice choked, and when he continued, there was a desperation in his words, almost a pleading.

"If we let this keep on, as soon as he's done with the Muggle-borns, he'll move on to the Muggle world in whole, and when he's done with that, it'll be Half-Bloods, and then he'll find somethin' else to hate, and somethin' after that. People who're driven by hate never have peace, and they never allow it. I know. I'm Irish, and that means I root for a Quidditch team with leprechaun mascots, but it also means that for me, this isn't the world going to war, it's just war coming into the part of my life I thought knew better. You say there are worse things than death, and I couldn't agree with you more. I just don't agree about what they are."

"Harry's going to stop him." Neville waved a hand towards the window. "He's out there now, following some kind of plan that he and Dumbledore had. They were locked up together half of last year. He knows what he's doing, and he doesn't need us."

"Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't." Seamus shrugged. "But I know that I need to be able to look myself in the mirror when all this is said and done, and I don't reckon I could do that if I just sat on my thumbs ... and I've known you for nearly seven years, whether or not I knew about your parents, and I don't think you could, either."

Neville opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything, there was the sound of a door opening behind him, and both wizards jumped to their feet, turning just in time to see Ginny step into the common room. She looked tired, and several strands of red hair dangled limply in her face, but she was smiling. "It's okay."

"Parvati -" The two boys spoke at the same time, and she raised a hand, cutting them off.

"Parvati's going to be just fine. She's much better off than you were, Seamus. Alecto got a lot more creative than just Crucio, but this was just some bad bruising from when she was thrashing around. That awful smelly green goop Neville made cleared it all up like it had never happened. She'll be down in a few minutes. I tried to tell her to rest, but she wants everyone to see that there was no serious harm done."

His knees felt as though she had hit him with a Jelly-Legs Jinx, and Neville sank to the floor, bracing himself with one hand. "She's not ..."

Ginny's brown eyes were soft with deep understanding. "No. She's not. And she's not mad at you, either. I think she's actually going to be a little insufferable for a while. Really feels like she's proven her own, you know?"

"Yeah." The word came out weakly, and he shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that Parvati was all right. Ginny's words and the truth in her expression fought bitterly with the echoes of the screams from only hours before.

"What do you say, Neville?" Seamus turned to him, a challenge gleaming in the blue eyes. "Does she get a medal at the next D.A. meetin'?"

He paused for what seemed like years before answering, his eyes fixed on the warm yellow glint of the Galleon that lay in the corner of the room where he had thrown it. At last he answered, though he was unable to meet either pair of eyes that he could feel looking at him. "No. Don't want everyone else doing it ... I'll let her out of training for a few days, though."

"That's the least you can do." Parvati sounded raw, as though she was getting over a bad bout of laryngitis, but there was a smile on her face as she came down the stairs. Her steps were a little hesitant, she leaned on the railing a little more than usual, but otherwise, she seemed to have just woken up from a nap, her dark hair cascading loosely over her shoulders and her arms revealing not so much as a single bruise in her sleeveless nightgown.

"Parvati!" Neville dashed across the room, unable to help himself as he swept her up in an enormous hug that lifted her completely off her feet. He spun her around, and she laughed like a child, clinging to his neck in a grip that was wonderfully, giddily sure and real and healthy and sane and whole and alive. Setting her down, he felt his breath catch in his throat as he looked at her, just looked at her, drinking her in as though the reality of her being there could drown the memory of her torture.

He hadn't destroyed her after all. She was looking at him now through bright, clear eyes, and she was fine, more than fine. She was beautiful.

Neville felt a strange clutching sensation in his chest, and he was suddenly aware that he was holding a girl in his arms, her small, delicate body close against his, her skin warm and soft beneath his hands. He had never particularly noticed girls before, had even wondered occasionally if there was something wrong with him as every other boy in his year had lost his mind over them to various degrees, but he abruptly understood what all the fuss was about. Parvati was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on, and it was the most natural thing in the world to tighten his arms around her, bringing her in and lowering his head to catch her lips with his.

The kiss was awkward at first, his nose bumping up against hers, but she seemed to know what she was doing more than he did, and she tilted her head, bringing her hand up to slide her fingers through his hair and pull his mouth onto hers. Then it became deeper, more passionate, and Neville's head seemed to spin with the wonderful insanity of it all. His mind and heart and body were flying apart at the seams with more new sensations than he could even begin to deal with. When they finally broke apart, he gasped, his eyes wide. "Parvati ..."

She smiled, and placed a single finger over his mouth. "Thank you."

He blinked, aware that he was grinning stupidly and that he shouldn't be. "For what? You were tortured."

"You let me prove I can take it. I've been afraid I couldn't. My parents have always protected me, and I've been afraid that when it came time to fight, I would break. I know I won't now, and you let me do that. It must have been so hard for you ... I could hear you down here yelling."

He nodded dumbly. "I couldn't forgive myself for letting them hurt you."

"There's nothing to forgive." Her hand traced down and settled on his chest over his heart. "I know I have courage now, but it took courage for you to send me, too. You're going to be a great leader, I think."

Neville thought of the Galleon, abandoned in despair. He thought of how he had wanted to let it all go, of how he had wanted to give up, to leave the fight to others, and he dropped his eyes in shame. "No ...."

Then she kissed him again, and again everything else melted away. His skin had taken on a life of its own, a pulsing, hungry thing, and he had never really realized how much he had changed, how much they all had changed over the years since coming to Hogwarts. It was a man's body he wore now, tall and broad-shouldered, his stubbled chin scraping lightly against her face as they kissed, and somehow he had missed that she was no longer a little girl, but a woman whose body was made of endless curves that his hands now traced through the thin nightgown.

They were adults now, adults and soldiers who still had to be children and students, and this was war, and this was hell, and this was heaven, and he was a victim and a leader and terrified and fearless and everything -- everything was different than it ever had been before. Neville knew that he had turned some kind of corner in that moment, and whatever happened from now on, none of the old rules about how he thought things were or who he thought he was were going to matter. He would have to find out from scratch, and somehow, that didn't seem as terrifying as he thought it should have been.

Everything was different now. He was different. The worst had happened, he had sent someone to suffer the Cruciatus Curse, and the world had not ended. Instead, it had begun. He had grown up.