Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness

The first thing he saw was that the world had turned from gray to crimson. Neville blinked slowly, his eyelids feeling ridiculously heavy, and everything seemed to double, spin, and then resolve itself again into the same flat redness. He tried to move, only to discover that he could not feel his own body, and he began to wonder if he was hallucinating. If he was, it wasn't so bad. The red was strange, but the numbness was a blessed relief after the endless, grinding pain that had been his world for so long.

"You're awake!" The voice seemed familiar, and as he struggled to place it, his thoughts responding with the same reluctance as his eyes, a face appeared in the middle of the red. It was a girl. A pretty girl, with long red hair that had been braided back, and she looked both worried and very happy. The red. It was above the girl. Familiar. The canopy of his bed! Then he wasn't hallucinating. He was in his own bed, and he knew the girl. What was her name?

"Uhnnee." The word sounded like it had come from a badly wounded stranger, hoarse and ragged, and he tried again, but this time only a rasp emerged from his lips.

"Shhhh ...." Soft, gentle hands slipped beneath his head, lifting it slightly, and he felt something against his mouth as the girl - Ginny - smiled kindly at him. "Here ... drink this."

It was water. Nothing more than cool, fresh water, but the moment it touched his tongue, he knew that he had never tasted anything so sweet and wonderful. He gulped at it greedily, but she pulled it away, and he heard himself moan in despair. "A little at a time, you'll make yourself sick." She allowed him another mouthful, and he held it as long as he could bear before swallowing, feeling the parched, shriveled tissues of his mouth and throat seem to come alive again.

He was starting to be able to feel again. Neville became aware that his tongue was grossly swollen in his mouth, his lips like sandpaper, cracked and rough. Still, however, he could feel nothing at all from the neck down, and this began to worry him. He tried again to move his arms and legs, but it was impossible to tell if anything had happened.

With a sense of rising panic, he looked up at Ginny, gratefully accepting another sip of water before he attempted to speak again. "Ca't ... fee ... m'seff ...."

The words were still husky and half-formed, but she seemed to understand. "It's okay. You've been given enough Painkilling Potions to numb a Hungarian Horntail. It's really better that way right now. You should still be in the hospital wing, but Professor Snape only let you stay there until you were out of danger. I don't know how much you remember, Neville, but you and Ernie almost died."

He frowned, trying to shake his head. The beating had been excruciating, the hunger and thirst unbearable, but to say they had nearly died .... "Zaashrat'n."

"I'm not exaggerating. Madame Pomfrey made them take you down at the end of the third day. You'd been completely passed out since that afternoon, Ernie'd only lasted about an hour longer. It was the dehydration after ... after you lost all that blood. She said you'd both have been dead by morning at the latest."

Neville tried to say something again, to ask about the brave friend who had taken the terrible punishment alongside him, but Ginny lifted the cup to his lips, and this time, the water was sour, almost lemony, with a strangely bitter aftertaste. He wanted to ask what it was, but everything was growing dim again, and the last thing he heard as he slipped under was Ginny's voice, strangely maternal for a girl so young. "Just sleep for now, there'll be time later ...."

OOO

When Neville awoke again, it was to far greater awareness, but also to far greater pain. His back felt as though it were on fire, but when he tried to roll over to ease the discomfort, every muscle and joint let out a howl of agony, and he groaned.

"Fearless Leader has returned to us."

Recognizing Seamus' distinctly accented voice, he turned his head stiffly, and was surprised to see that a good-sized crowd had gathered by his bed. Next to Seamus, there were Ginny, Parvati, Colin, and Lavender, but also Luna and two young fourth-years he didn't recognize who were clad in the emerald-trimmed robes of Slytherin. His eyes widened. "What -"

"Terrance Runcorn and Malcolm Braddock," Ginny explained. "New recruits. They wanted to see for themselves that you had survived in one piece."

"We're not enlisting in something that's scrambling to find a new leader," said the taller of the two boys. He was stocky, with a shock of deep chestnut hair and the beginnings of a beard already darkening the line of his jaw quite strongly for only fourteen.

Neville blinked, wondering if he had returned to consciousness as completely as he had first thought. "But you're -"

"Slytherin." The second of the boys was almost half a head shorter, as fine-boned as a girl, with a nervous, fluttery air about him. "But this whole business has just gotten so...." He waved his hands as if shooing away something nasty. "I mean, people aren't going to stand for it once it starts to come out, and there's always talk. I just don't think it's going to work out for the Dark Lord overall. There's always going to be people like you lot, and I've read enough history to know how things go when there's a really strong resistance movement ... the regime has to crack down harder and harder, more people get unhappy, then ... you know. I'd like to be on the winning team early, if you don't mind."

He seemed more to find it distasteful than actually morally distressing, but Neville supposed that it didn't really matter, provided he was sincere. His eyes flickered to the first one, Runcorn. "Your name seems familiar."

"My father's a Death Eater. I think what the Dark Lord's doing is great, myself. I'd love to never have to brush shoulders with Mudbloods again, but Potter impersonated my Dad at the Ministry, and the Dark Lord had him ..." The dark, hooded eyes squeezed shut, and Neville recognized the boy's expression all too well.

"Tortured?" he asked gently.

The boy nodded. "Awfully." His eyes opened again, and they were blazing with a helpless fury. "He hadn't done anything wrong! That little Mudblood dropped something into his coffee while the other one was asking him some stupid question right after he'd Apparated in for work, and the next thing he knew, he was practically bleeding to death out his nose! The Dark Lord's gone insane!" A wild, hunted look had come over Runcorn's face. "The Malfoys are as good as dead the next time his wand hand gets itchy, and they're one of his most faithful, the most powerful -- he doesn't know the difference between friends and enemies any more!"

Despite the slurs against Muggle-borns, Neville actually felt far more certain about Runcorn than Braddock. There was something there far more powerful than any historical deduction, and the value of having a Death Eater's child among them was not something to be taken lightly. On the other hand, Dumbledore had learned a lesson about trusting apparent turncoats that Neville would never forget. He looked past the two Slytherins to Ginny and Luna. "Let me talk to my Lieutenants. Seamus, take them out into the common room ... and see that no one messes with them. They're our guests for right now."

As soon as the door had closed behind the three, Ginny made a face. "First order of business is going to be Scourgifying Runcorn's mouth."

"First order of business," corrected Neville, "is giving me a really good explanation of why you trusted them." He shifted, giving another low moan as his back let loose with a burst of pain that clutched his throat with the urge to be sick. "Scratch that. First order of business is more of that Painkilling Potion."

"Madame Pomfrey said you can't have any more for four hours," Lavender informed him regretfully. "It's really strong, and she says if you stay on it too long at a stretch, you can get addicted, and that's worse than having to deal with the pain on and off. The same with the Sleeping Draught. Although we have been able to get about two gallons of water and a couple bowls of porridge into you, so you should feel a lot better on that front."

Neville swore, then looked back to Ginny. "Slytherins?"

"Right." She scooted her chair in closer, propping one elbow on the bed and leaning towards him. "The thing is, I don't trust them as far as I can spit them, but Luna had a really good point." She nodded her red head towards the Ravenclaw Lieutenant, who shrugged.

"They came to us. That means they had guessed. The way I reasoned it out, if we deny them, they'll be bitter, angry, and free to gossip and spread assumptions and rumors among their house. If we accept them, they're under the Fidelius Charm, and we're a lot more protected, because they can't rat us out. Oh, and I made you some flowers." The word 'made' seemed odd, but then she held out one dainty, pale hand, and he saw a small, folded piece of paper in it. As she opened her fingers, it burst into a cascade of beautiful, vividly painted crimson and gold flowers that bloomed extravagantly all over her lap.

He smiled, remembering again why Luna had been more than worth the amount of pain he was now in. She really was a wonderful friend. Seeing her suffer what he had or worse at the hands of the Carrows would have been a truly unbearable ordeal. "Thanks," he said, hoping she understood that he meant a lot more than just the flowers, "--and I guess you're right about the Slytherins. They just make me really uncomfortable."

Colin made a face and an extremely descriptive gesture, and Lavender stifled a snort of laughter. Ginny was less successful. "Colin, sometimes you hit it right on the nose," she giggled.

The Secret-Keeper shrugged, blushing. "I try."

"We all do." Neville let his eyes close for a moment, shifting his shoulders as carefully as possible to try and find some position that was at least fractionally more comfortable. As he did, something occurred to him, and his eyes flew open. "Merlin's pants - Ernie!" He struggled to sit up, scarcely noticing the fresh eruption of pain, but Parvati and Colin grabbed him in a gentle but unshakable hold and kept him down.

"It's all right," Luna soothed, "Ernie's fine. He's got ... well, his entire year has skived out of lessons for the last two days to look after him. The Carrows wanted to have them all punished, but Professor Sprout was kind of amazing. She blocked them off from the common room and said if they lay one more finger on Ernie or anyone helping him, they'd have every past and present Hufflepuff to deal with personally." She tilted her head with a fascinated look. "They really do mean it about the loyalty, you know."

Neville thought of how much strength he had drawn from those resolute hazel eyes, and he gave a quiet, deep smile. "Never underestimate it, Luna. It's an incredible thing." He shifted again, wincing. "Is there anything ..."

"Now that you're awake, we can use some better healing spells, and we still have some of that ointment of yours. If you want, we can step out a moment, and Parvati can do that for you." Ginny exchanged a meaningful glance with Lavender, who took hold of Colin's shoulder in the kind of grip Neville had usually seen mothers use to lead their small children past Honeydukes.

"It's okay," Neville said, "I mean, there's no point in being modest about taking my shirt off when I've been used as a wall hanging in front of the entire school."

"No," and now there was an odd tone to Ginny's voice that he recognized as meaning she was communicating something on the frequency only other girls could understand. Even Luna looked up as if receiving a private wireless signal, getting to her feet and scooping the flowers onto his nightstand. "We'll just go. You and Parvati need some alone time."

Colin's eyes widened, and Ginny gave a little huff and grabbed his other shoulder. "Oh, for goodness sakes, not even Harry could, you dirty-minded little ... and believe me, I'm sure. Neville's still getting over being heroic." She exchanged another significant look with Lavender. "Nothing gets past that." The two girls steered a baffled and protesting Colin out of the dormitory with Luna close on their heels, and then the heavy door closed with a very solid click.

There was a moment of silence, then Parvati turned the covers back and climbed up onto the bed beside him, the familiar bowl of thick green ointment in one hand. Her dark eyes were soft as she looked at him, and she settled her free hand on his chest as lightly as a butterfly. "Does it hurt?"

Neville's mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Oh, a bit."

"Let me do what I can. Please." She pulled the covers off of him completely, and he realized for the first time that there was a layer of bandages wrapped around his torso from his shoulders to the waistband of his pajama trousers. "Can you turn over?"

He tried, but was surprised to find that the simple movement was beyond the limits of his strength. He gasped, "I'm sorry ..."

"No." She set the bowl down and drew her wand. As she waved it over him, he felt an odd sense of lightness, as though flesh and bone had turned to air, and she turned him over as easily and lightly as a doll. Neville felt embarrassed by his own weakness, but she shook her head. "It's a miracle you're alive. Don't worry. You'll get your strength back quickly enough."

Another wave of her wand, and he felt cool air strike his skin as the bandages peeled away. He smiled bitterly. "You do that a lot more gently than Snape."

"I would hope so." There was a faint slurping sound as she dug some of the ointment from the bowl, and then he felt her begin to daub it on the raw wounds that criss-crossed his back, and he sighed in relief. The healing itched, but the burning, stinging, aching aftermath of the flogging had eased almost instantly. "Does that help?"

"Lots, thank you," Neville said gratefully.

Parvati worked in silence until his entire back had been coated in the mixture, the strong smell permeating the tower room. Then she waved her wand again, and the bandages folded over, their gentle pressure now soothing rather than arduous, and she settled him onto his back again. With another flick of her wand, the Featherlight Charm lifted, and Neville felt himself sink down into the mattress again. She leaned down and kissed him carefully on the forehead. "I'm so sorry."

Neville frowned, staring at her in complete confusion. "What on earth are you sorry for?"

She looked down, twisting the bowl in her hands and biting her lip. "Neville ... I have to tell you something."

He raised an eyebrow curiously. "If it's that you were snogging Seamus while I was down, I'll forgive you, but I might have to punch him when I'm feeling up to it."

"No, I haven't been snogging anybody." She paused again, then her cheeks flushed, and when she looked up, her eyes were gleaming wetly. "Neville, I can't do this."

"Are you leaving the D.A.?"

"I mean us. It's just ... I'm being weak, I know. Ginny's still in love with Harry, even though we don't even know if he's dead or alive, but that's just it, Neville. I'm not in love with you."

"I know." Neville was surprised by the words even as he said them, but he knew they were true. He'd never really thought Parvati loved him, nor, for that matter now that he thought about it, did he love her. He liked her, they were great friends, and the things they had done together were certainly wonderful, but that powerful connection, that something extra that he had seen form between some of his other friends was missing. She was a friend and a beautiful girl that he thoroughly enjoyed kissing, but nothing more. "You don't have to cry, Parvati. I like you plenty, but I'm not in love with you either."

"You don't understand." He felt entirely sure on that count, but he kept his mouth shut as she went on. "I could love you, and I don't want to. There's a lot more to you than I thought there was, and there's something about doing this, about leading the D.A....you're changing. You're turning into a real hero, and -" She broke off, looking away as if suddenly embarrassed. "--Oh, you'll realize it eventually, but you're not bad-looking now that you're not walking around with your head down biting your lip and cringing all the time."

Neville frowned at this, slightly offended. "I hope you don't think I'm all that repulsive if you've been snogging me for two weeks."

"Of course I don't! But I thought you were cute and sweet ... you're becoming handsome. Never mind." She shook her head in a frustrated little gesture. "It's a girl difference, it doesn't really matter to you, actually. But there will be other girls, Neville, I want you to know I know that, and I'm okay with it."

"Thanks." He didn't know what else to say.

"I want you to know I'm okay with it, because there won't be any other boys for me, and I don't want you to think that I'm pining for you." Her tone was firm, but there was no sense of sacrifice, and a slow, dawning thought occurred to Neville as he thought of a distant aunt he had once met at Christmas.

"Have you decided you fancy ..." He paused, remembering what his Gran had called it. "That you like to stir your cauldron in the same direction?"

"What?!" She looked at him as though he had sprouted tentacles from his ears, then rolled her eyes. "No, Neville, I would have thought you noticed that I definitely like boys." Parvati gave an exasperated sigh, then her voice became serious again. "It was the second day you were up there. You hadn't moved, your back looked so awful ... and Ernie there next to you ... oh, Neville, it was just terrible to have to watch you both suffer like that."

Parvati shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. Neville started to reach a hand towards her to comfort her, then stopped, unsure if he was allowed to do that any more. Thankfully, she didn't seem to have noticed. "I was watching Susan - she's been in love with Ernie for ages - and what she was going through, and I realized that if I'd loved you, it would have been too much. Ginny's said the only way she can stand it is that she doesn't have to know. If I fell in love with any boy in this school right now, I could lose him tomorrow in the most horrible ways and have to watch it happen. I can't deal with that."

"So don't fall in love with me." Now he did put his hand on her thigh, and he was relieved that she made no move to swat it away. "We can still be friends and snog sometimes."

"We can still be friends." And now she did move his hand away. "But if we keep snogging, it's going to be too easy to ... just trust me. We can still be friends, but that's all."

There was a long silence between them, then Neville nodded. "Okay."

She blinked. "Okay?"

"Yeah. I don't want you to be hurt."

"But just ... okay?" Parvati was staring at him in what seemed like offense.

"Well, if we're still friends, and we've already agreed we don't love each other, what else do you want me to say?"

She gave him a long look that implied there were a great many things she wanted to say, but then tossed her head, setting the bowl back on the nightstand as she reached into her pocket. "Don't worry about it, Neville. It's just something we have to put up with when we don't 'stir our cauldron in our own direction.' But my Galleon's gone off. I have to get ready for the meeting tonight." She stood up, and Neville called after her.

"Parvati!"

She turned, her eyes unreadable. "Yes?"

"Tell Ginny and Luna I'm coming to the meeting." His voice was as strong as he could make it, and he seemed to have surprised her as much as he did himself with the steadiness of it.

"Neville, you can't even turn over on your own!"

"Then I'll have help. But I'm coming tonight." He locked eyes with her, willing her to see, to understand how much he needed to be back with all of them, to feel their strength, their determination, to know why he had given himself over to three days of torture and who knew how long before he was properly back on his feet. "Please, Parvati, I need to go. You said it yourself; it was hard for the people who watched, too. I want them to see they didn't break me, and I've got to know that they aren't broken either. This thing is just getting started. Tell Ginny. As a friend."

Parvati was silent for so long that he felt sure she must be deciding how to refuse him kindly, then at last she nodded solemnly. "As a friend."

She turned away, and as she opened the door and slipped out, leaving him alone, Neville wasn't sure whether her last words were meant for him to hear or not. "Gryffindor boys! Oh, thank goodness it's just as a friend."

OOO

"Speaking as the Gryffindor Lieutenant, your second in command, your friend ... oh, hell, and Harry Potter's girlfriend, Ron's sister, and the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team if adding any of that helps, I think you're out of your mind to do this." Ginny glared at him disapprovingly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"I have to do it. I've already told you why. Now, are you going to help me?" Neville allowed the exasperation he was feeling to show freely in his voice, his own chin thrust out in a defiance that matched hers.

She sighed. "Yes, I'll help you, but only because I don't want to guess at what kind of stupid thing you'd do if I didn't. Michael and Terry are waiting out in the common room already. I didn't think I'd be able to talk you out of it."

He frowned. "Michael and Terry?"

"To carry you." Ginny gave him a truly filthy look. "Because if you think you're going to walk there, be my guest. I'd love to see you try."

Neville blinked, then thought of how Parvati had moved him so easily earlier that day. "Can't you use a Featherlight Charm?"

"Neville, how tall are you?"

He frowned, thinking about it a moment. "Honestly, I'm not sure exactly. I don't think Gran's measured me since I was about fourteen. Now...somewhere around six footish, I'd reckon."

"Six foot one," she announced crisply, and he stared at her.

"How the heck do you know that?"

Ginny shrugged. "Because you were about two inches shorter than Ron when you were slouching all the time, and that's how tall he is. But the point is, even if I did use a Featherlight, I'm five foot six if I'm standing perfectly straight and wearing decent heels. Just how would I be supposed to get you there? Drag you?" She motioned to the door. "Michael and Terry are the only guys we've got who are tall enough and aren't in Hufflepuff joined at the hip to Ernie."

Seeing her point, Neville nodded. "Then get them in here."

She gave him another long, reproachful look, then left with a final toss of her hair. He could hear her through the open door as she went down the stairs to the common room. "You can come up, boys. The Idiot in Chief is in the bed, meeting starts in half an hour. You're so brilliant, see if you can make him see reason."

Within a few moments, Michael Corner and Terry Boot entered the tower dormitory, and Neville smiled awkwardly at them. "I'm sorry you guys have to do this."

Michael shrugged. "No worries, mate. We all saw what happened to you, no one thinks you should be strolling down the halls yet. But we're not going to argue you. I mean, if you can stand up to beauty, brains, and the best Bat-Bogey Hex in the school, what hope would we have if we wanted to talk you out of it?" He motioned to the foot of the bed. "Is this one your trunk?"

Neville nodded, and Michael knelt, opening the lid of the large trunk and beginning to pull out a Hogwarts uniform. As he watched it pile up, from socks and tie to belt and vest, he realized that only on days when he had been late to class had he ever come close to the sudden understanding he had of how many pieces were involved in simply getting dressed. It seemed like a rather imposing undertaking, all things considered, but he didn't want to go looking like an invalid, and he was grateful that he hadn't needed to explain that to the two Ravenclaws.

Terry pulled back the covers and placed one hand beside his back, then frowned. "Neville, is this going to rip your back up worse? I don't mind helping, but I'm not going to exacerbate those injuries."

"No," he answered honestly, "Parvati put some stuff on it that's closed the actual wounds. It's really just that I'm stiff, sore, and weak as a Pygmy Puff right now. A day or two of food and rest, and I think I'll be ready to go back to Bagman, I'm serious."

"Fair enough." Terry slipped one long arm under his back and carefully pulled, the other hand braced against Neville's chest as he eased him to a sitting position. Below the newly healed surface, the deeply bruised muscles cried out, and Terry hesitated, seeing the color abruptly drain from his commander's face. "Are we still okay?"

"Did I mention sore?" Neville tried to summon a wry smile, and it seemed to satisfy the others.

Terry smiled back ruefully. "Yeah, you did, as a matter of fact. And I guess you were telling the truth." He looked up, seeing Michael had arrived at his side with the uniform bundled in his hands. "Let's just start with the shirt, these bandages will do well enough for an undershirt."

The two young men worked in a smoothly coordinated team, taking turns bracing him upright as they helped him slip his arms into the crisp white cotton. Neville was pleased to find that his strength was already beginning to return a little, though rather embarrassed that it was worth noting that he could raise his arms by himself. He glanced up at Michael. "You guys have a really good system. You done this before?"

They exchanged a look over his head, then Michael laughed. "Nah. Terry and me've just been best friends since first year. I think we can read each other's minds on just about anything by now."

"I'll remember to team you up more often," replied Neville.

Terry shook his head as he looped the crimson and gold tie around Neville's neck. "Not if it's anything too dangerous. I think I'd have lost my capacity for rational thought if it had been Mike on the wall."

"I didn't think that could happen to a Ravenclaw!" Neville gasped in mock horror, and they chuckled.

"Only in the most dire of circumstances," said Michael somberly.

"Speaking of dire circumstances," Neville lifted his arms again as they slipped the vest over his shoulders and tugged it down, "I had a lot of time to think up there, and it's been really bugging me. How did you hit Snape with that Stunner, Terry? It was dead dark."

"Automatic Aiming Charm." The reply came without the slightest hesitation. "Logically, Snape would be closer to the doors than anyone he had caught, since you were planning to put the words above the Headmaster's chair at the far end. So I figured it was safe to just take down the nearest person."

"What if you'd been wrong?"

"Then I'd have kept firing, cleared the darkness, and Ennervated whoever didn't have a sadistic streak and a Dark Mark."

Neville nodded. "I'm still mad at you for defying orders, but thanks for saving my life."

"Don't mention it."

Michael took hold of his legs and swung them off the edge of the bed, then knelt to peel the socks from his feet. "I'm glad the girls changed these," he noted, "Five days, half of that soaked in blood...." He made a face, and Terry swatted him on the back of the head.

"You're just thinking of your own socks." He gave Neville a look of protracted suffering. "The Ravenclaw dormitory will never have a Doxie problem. We get fumigated every night when Mike takes his shoes off."

"Keep it up, and I'll jinx your lips shut, Boot." Michael blushed.

"Note," Terry said archly, shaking out the black robes, "that he does not argue my essential point."

"Hey," Neville laughed, "that's the one reason I'm grateful Harry and Ron left. They'd leave their Quidditch bags lying around until it would've knocked out a Mountain Troll."

"Seriously, mate." Michael looked up from where he was tying the laces on Neville's shoes, and the sparkle in his eyes had vanished. "There was a pool of blood under you two. That was sick. Just sick. I can't believe Snape actually did something that ... barbaric."

"Yeah, but it could have been fatal, and that I'm still here tells us something important," Neville pointed out, and they both stopped, tilted their heads at him curiously. "They won't kill. Not while we're still at school, anyway. Whatever they're willing to do, they'll stop just short of actually killing us. I think for all their screaming about 'Mudbloods', they know we're a dying breed. That pure blood is worth more to them in my veins than on the floor."

"Amycus," Terry's voice sounded haunted, "licked the whip when Filch was done. Those people are not rational, Neville." He paused, cinching the belt around Neville's waist and then leaning back. "Your hair looks like Harry's and you've got a good start on a beard, there. You got a comb in the trunk?"

"Sure, but don't worry about the fuzz for now, I don't think we have time." Michael started to dig in the trunk again as Neville went on. "No, they're not rational, or, for that matter, sane. But Snape is, and he's also smart enough to know that their biggest strength right now is that the Pureblood families feel safe, even if they don't agree. They can justify punishment and claim the severity is exaggerated, but if they start littering the wizarding world with the bodies of Pureblood kids ...."

"Good point." Michael ran the comb quickly through Neville's hair, then they each slung an arm over their shoulders. "On three ... one, two, three."

They stood, and Neville swayed drunkenly between them for a moment before finding his balance. Supported like this, he was pleased to find that his feet seemed steady enough under him, and he was actually able to take a few tentative steps before the world spun alarmingly.

"Easy there," Terry cautioned him. "Let us." Their shoulders tensed beneath him, and he felt himself lifted easily as they began to make their way down the stairs.

"Thanks again for doing this," said Neville.

"Don't mention it. Just know that we'll call in the same favor if it's ever one of us strung up there," said Michael.

"I hope it isn't." Neville's voice was sincere as they paused at the portrait hole, and Terry planted his feet firmly, taking Neville's full weight as Michael climbed out and reached through.

"It might be." Michael's pleasant face had grown stony. "I'm not going to just let that happen again. They try to do it to someone else, and I swear on my father's grave that I will come back in the middle of the night and cut them down if I have to. Seeing you hanging there day after day ... it was hard on all of us, but I think some of those poor little first-years are going to be scarred deeper than you and Ernie. We've had one poor little bloke in our house who's been waking up with screaming nightmares every single night since."

"Just be careful, Mike." There was an air of gentle terror in Terry's tone, and Neville knew from that more than anything that Michael was dead serious. They made it the rest of the way to the Room of Requirement in silence, concentrating on the effort of maneuvering Neville as quickly as possible with what minimal help he could offer, but as the door appeared and opened before him, a wave of noise erupted that stopped all three in their tracks.

The entire D.A. was on their feet. Applause, whistles, whoops, and cheers rang out in a deafening wall of enthusiasm. Hannah Abbott ran forward, throwing her arms around his neck and nearly hitting the two boys on either side of him as she covered his face with grateful kisses.

And then Ernie was there, himself supported by Bagman and another boy that Neville recognized as his fellow Hufflepuff Beater. He wondered if he looked as pale and sunken as Ernie did, but it didn't matter as the Lieutenant held out a hand, and Neville took it, pressing it in both of his. There were no words, there never could be, but seeing his friend there and alive seemed to charge him with new strength, and he pulled himself away from the Ravenclaws and took an unsteady step forward as Ernie did the same.

The two boys embraced, and he tried to silently communicate all the gratitude, all the feeling of brotherhood that had formed over their shared ordeal, and he knew it was understood. They had survived, they would go on fighting, and it wasn't just he and Ernie, it was all of them who had been through the fire now. Snape didn't know it, but he had ensured his own eventual defeat when he had ordered their torture, creating a deeper unity and sense of purpose than Neville or Harry had ever managed on their own.

The knowledge of that filled every blazing pair of eyes that shone in the room, no matter what color edged their robes. The survivors broke apart now, shaking as they supported one another and drew their wands. Silver sparks from not just two, but nearly forty wands collided in a burst that was brighter than hope as their voices rang out in a victory cheer that simply had yet to be fulfilled. "Dumbledore's Army!"

OOO

"All right, this is tonight's drill." Ginny stood in the center of the large circle, turning slowly to address each of the people who stood around her, sleeves rolled up and wands in hand. "Luna and I will be firing Stunning Spells. You won't know when, you won't know at who until we do it. Your job is simple. Block them. But no Impedimenta, no Protego, no Expelliarmus, and no Stupifying us back. You've had three days to find another way, let's see how you've done."

Neville watched in admiration from the couch at the side of the room, wishing he could be there with them, but aware that he had exhausted himself completely just joining them in the Room of Requirement. After the initial tumultuous greeting, things had quickly settled down, and he was pleased to see how well Ginny and Luna had the D.A. in hand without him, even if it was a little humbling to see how easily he could be replaced.

The two girls stood back to back, rotating slowly, then Luna abruptly flicked her wand, shooting a jet of scarlet light towards Seamus. "Sgaith!" he shouted, and the light went veering off wildly to careen against the ceiling with a deafening crack.

At almost the same moment, Ginny fired, striking out towards Fritz Bagman. "Duradermis!" His forearm took on the hardened, leathery texture of crocodile skin as he brought it up, and the spell bounced off harmlessly.

Luna sent one at Padma, but there was no incantation in reply. Instead, Padma seemed to vanish from the waist up, the spell shooting harmlessly into the wall behind her, and it was a moment before they realized she hadn't used any magic at all. She had folded herself almost completely in half backwards, bracing her palms on the floor behind her for a split second before bouncing smoothly to her feet again. Padma tossed her head, poised like a cat to move again, but a dozen people were staring at her open mouthed, and she blushed. "What? She never said it had to be magic, it's yoga."

"I'm in love." Seamus put one hand dramatically over his heart and gave her a suggestive grin. "If you can twist yourself up like that, darlin', I've been havin' all the wrong fantasies about you and your--" He was cut off as a stunner hit him full in the chest and he collapsed bonelessly.

Ginny gave a warning look around the circle. "No distractions. Minds on your wands, boys, not in your trousers. Let's go."

"Kir!" Luna's stunner towards Anthony Goldstein cracked against a solid brick wall that had sprung up out of thin air.

Susan Bones said nothing, but reached out towards the red light, jabbing at her empty, open palm with her wand, and the left hand suddenly seemed gloved in a shimmering silver mesh as she caught the spell in a single flicker of fading scarlet.

"Mortuscantum!" The jet of light Ginny had sent towards Terrance Runcorn dissolved into black smoke, shooting back up towards her wand and knocking her flat with a gasp of pain. She dropped her wand, holding up her hand and staring at it as if it belonged to someone else as fat blisters began to swell on her reddened palm.

Runcorn was smiling in smug self-satisfaction, but Lavender was shaking with fury as she spun towards him from a few positions away in the circle. "That's Dark Magic! You hurt her!"

"I blocked it, didn't I? I assure you, Princess, the Dark Lord doesn't limit himself. Neither can we," Runcorn sneered.

"Yes we can." Luna's soft voice carried surprisingly strongly over the blossoming argument. "We have to." Runcorn opened his mouth to argue her, but she cut him off. "Oh, I actually don't believe there's any difference between 'normal magic' and 'Dark Magic.' I think it's all in how the spells are used, but that's not the issue. Where did you learn that spell, Terrance?"

"My father." He spoke proudly, his dark eyes flashing as though daring anyone to challenge him.

"And he's a Death Eater, isn't he?" Luna asked the question as casually as if she were inquiring his father's first name, or what town they lived in.

"A damned good one."

"Then I would assume that would be a spell the Death Eaters are familiar with ... and know how to block. That seems to me like it defeats the entire purpose of this exercise."

Ginny had gotten to her feet now, waving her wand over her injured hand and flexing the fingers cautiously as the blisters retreated into the whitening skin. "No Dark Magic," she agreed firmly, nodding to Luna. "Avada Kedavra if you absolutely have no choice, but that can't be blocked if it's meant deeply enough, and any situation where you'd need to use it, you'd mean it. Otherwise, Luna's exactly right." Her cheeks flushed as she narrowed her eyes at Runcorn. "But I should have known a Slyth -"

"Lieutenant Weasley!" All eyes snapped to Neville as Ginny turned, her mouth falling open in shock. He had never called any of them by their formal titles before, nor had he ever spoken to her with such disapproving authority.

Neville pushed himself up on his elbows, trying to muster the same withering look that McGonagall used so effectively. "We leave our houses at the door in this room. In here, we're all Dumbledore's Army. I agree, no Dark Magic, but that's it. My whole house has rallied around me while I'm hurt, Ernie's too, and if they had gotten Luna or one of the others, Ravenclaw would be there. If Slytherin finds out where those two are tonight, they'll be lucky if there's much left of them to be turned over to the Carrows. If you're going to say anything about what house they belong to, you should say you respect the sheer guts they've shown."

Then he turned his gaze towards Runcorn, his frown deepening. "But if you ever hurt a fellow D.A. member again, or if I ever hear you calling anyone 'Mudblood' or 'Blood-Traitor', you will have me to answer to personally, and I promise you, once I'm back on my feet, I'm a lot bigger than you. Is that clear?"

Both the red and chestnut heads nodded, chastened, and Neville settled back on the couch again, wincing as his sore joints protested the exertion he had put them through that night. "Go on."

The exercise proceeded without further incident until each person had taken their turn to try and block the Stunning Spell. Neville was proud to see that by the end of it, only three people needed to be Ennervated, not counting Seamus, and even tiny Dennis Creevey had acquitted himself well with a nice little Deflecting Jinx that was effective, even if not particularly impressive or unusual compared with some of the other spellwork that had been demonstrated.

Finally, when everyone was conscious and seated again, Ginny strode to the front, pushing her hair out of her eyes as she turned to address them. "That was really great, I mean it. You did some really incredible stuff, things that I've never even heard of before, and that's exactly what we wanted to see tonight. Thinking outside the box. We're going to need that when it comes time to fight, because we'll be up against the best You-Know-Who can throw at us, not just Snape and the Carrows."

Luna came up next to her, a small brown-paper parcel in her hands, and Ginny took it, her smile changing in a way that reminded Neville strongly of the twins. "Now, some people don't know when to quit, but we are an army here, and we follow orders. Although, Ernie, I want to let you know that on the other side of this door, house rivalries are firmly in place, so Hufflepuff had better change their hand signals before the next Quidditch match."

Ernie laughed, raising his hand in a signal that was universally understood, and had nothing to do with Quidditch. Ginny stuck out her tongue at him and returned the gesture, then looked back at the others. "Our bravely battered leadership told us to keep going and make another attack, so that's exactly what we're going to do. Tomorrow morning, everyone will take one of these --"

Slitting the paper with her wand, she opened the box and pulled out several small bundles of tissue and began handing them out to the front row, where they were passed back until everyone had one. Satisfied, she took one herself and handed the box back to Luna, who extracted the last one before vanishing it. "Scatter them wherever you can, just don't get caught. Classrooms, hallways, common areas, the grounds...." She paused, then gave a deliberately inclusive glance at the two Slytherins. "Terrance, Malcolm, if you could get some into the Slytherin common room or the dungeons, that would be great. We want them everywhere. Dobby will even be helping us get them into the Staff Lounge."

Lavender opened her bundle and stirred the contents with her finger, frowning at what looked like a handful of burnt rice. "What are they?"

"Leaflets." She tapped a grain with her wand, and it exploded in a tiny puff of smoke, then the smoke resolved into a sheet of parchment. Ginny grabbed it as it floated towards the floor, waving it in demonstration. "Anthony wrote them, they're fantastic. It's an article about great Muggle-borns in wizarding history. These" -- she shook the little tissue bundle -- "won't be noticed when you're scattering them around, but they're set with delayed charms to go off at random times tomorrow afternoon, so if we do it right, the whole school will be filled with these things and we'll all be somewhere completely innocent."

In the front row, Romilda Vane raised her hand. "Won't they be able to just vanish them?"

Luna smiled happily. "Oh, please, Romilda, try."

With a skeptical frown, Romilda waved her wand at the parchment in Ginny's hand. "Evanesco!"

A cascade of parchment flooded from Ginny's grip like a waterfall, and she was forced to drop the original copy as her hand grew too full of the replicas. "They multiply by one hundred every time you try to destroy them. I'm sure there's a way to do it, but the ten most common spells to get rid of something are covered." She took a little bow as a ripple of applause burst out. "Thanks, but credit for that set of spells goes to my brothers and Weasleys' Wildfire Whizbangs."

"If they feel like finishing their education, let them know they're really missed, will you?" Colin said, and there was a round of nostalgic, knowing chuckles among the older students who remembered Fred and George's reign of mischief most vividly.

Ginny smiled brightly. "I will, I promise." Turning down the cuffs of her sleeves, she picked up her robe from the chair she had tossed it over at the beginning of the meeting and pulled it on over her jumper. "That's all for tonight, guys. It's twenty to, so let's start getting back to our common rooms. Remember: small groups, don't rush, have an alibi agreed on for where you've been. Meeting dismissed."

As the meeting began to break up, students separating into innocuous pairs and trios of housemates and friends, Neville motioned towards the sturdy young Slytherin who was standing apart from the others, looking at his housemate with distaste as Braddock chatted with a Creevey-like eagerness to two Ravenclaws. Runcorn scowled, then crossed over to where Neville lay, his arms folded defensively across his broad chest. "Sir?"

"I stood up for you, Runcorn. Now I want to know why I won't regret that." Neville did not flinch as he met the younger boy's insolent gaze, aware that in his weakened position; he could not afford any chinks in his apparent authority.

"I already told you," Runcorn spat sullenly, "he had my father tortured."

"And if your father is in favor tomorrow, if he's You-Know-Who's right-hand man, how do I know you won't betray us?"

Runcorn shrugged. "Fidelius Charm. What could I say?"

"I didn't ask why you couldn't betray us, I asked why you wouldn't." The younger boy's mouth opened, then shut again, and Neville continued. "My grandmother is Augusta Longbottom. You're too young to remember, but about ten years ago, Lucius Malfoy put a bill before the Ministry that would have legalized use of magic against Muggles who were causing 'harm' as he very loosely defined it. A lot of people tried to have the bill banned before it hit the floor, but my Gran led the movement to have it introduced."

"But I thought -" Runcorn stopped himself, clearly baffled.

"She's always been proud it was defeated in open debate. She taught me that the most dangerous thing that can happen to a civilization is when it starts to prevent people from having their own beliefs and being able to speak those openly. That's what we're fighting for. Not Muggle rights, not Wizard rights, but the right to live and believe whatever we want without fear. You-Know-Who isn't fighting for Pureblood Superiority, Runcorn, he's fighting for his own absolute power, and you've seen what he does with that power."

The room was almost empty now, only a handful of people lagging behind, and Runcorn glanced around before looking back to Neville. When he did, the bravado had melted away, and he suddenly looked very much a child of fourteen, his eyes wide and vulnerable. He knelt down next to the couch, leaning in close so that his next words were between them alone. "I'm scared," he said simply.

Neville shifted, lowering his voice to give the boy privacy. "Of what?"

"Everyone. You were right earlier." His hands twisted the green satin trim of his robes. "If the others find out, I'm dead meat. And the Dark Lord would ..." He bit his lip, unable to continue, and Neville reached out a hand, placing it gently on Runcorn's shoulder.

"I know. You're being very brave. I just want you to understand that you really are doing the right thing ... do you go by Terrance or Terry?"

"Renny."

"Renny. I think if he really understood what was going on, your Dad would have made some different choices. Because if you really do believe in Pureblood Superiority, you'll have a better chance of seeing it happen - really happen, not some twisted version of it - under an honest government." There was a long pause, and he felt the arm under his hand begin to shake. Over Runcorn's shoulder, he could see Ginny beginning to approach them, and he shot her a warning glance, thankful when she understood and turned away to help see Ernie and his little cluster of Hufflepuffs out the door.

"Dad was with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He's tough, really tough. Our family's been Enforcers for generations. I wanted to be one when I grew up. My mom's letter said he ... he'd begged." Runcorn looked like he didn't quite know whether to be more horrified by this apparent weakness, or the torture that had caused it.

Neville's voice was gentle but firm. "Your Dad has been loyal to the Ministry, he's a Death Eater and a Pureblood. If You-Know-Who is going to repay him like that, he doesn't deserve your loyalty."

"Are you guys going to kill all the Death Eaters?" The question was barely above a whisper, and Runcorn's swarthy face had fallen pale.

"We're at war, and people die in war." Neville decided not to make any effort to shield the truth. "But after that, if we win, it will be like last time. Your Dad and all the others will get trials, not summary executions."

"If I fight with you, would that help my Dad at his trial?"

Neville thought about it a moment, then nodded. "Probably. It certainly wouldn't hurt."

The shaking had become harder, and now when Runcorn looked up, his eyes were shining over-bright in the flickering candles of the Room of Requirement. "I hate this. I hate all of it. It's not fair. I hate Mudbloods, I hate the Dark Lord, I hate you, I hate this stupid war ... I hate --" His voice choked off, and he cuffed his fist hard against his eyes.

Ignoring the use of the slur, Neville nodded sympathetically. "None of this is fair. You're fourteen years old. You shouldn't be having to make these kinds of decisions."

"I'm only three years younger than you!" There was a fragile defensiveness in the declaration that made him seem even younger, but Neville felt no urge to smile. It was all too true.

"Yeah, I shouldn't be here either. But if we stick together, maybe we'll all grow up, and then you and your Dad and me and my Gran can hate whatever we want to, even each other."

"I lied."

The confession took him by surprise, and Neville blinked. "About what?"

His voice was stronger now, but still shaking, the hate making the words seem to burn off his lips. "It wasn't my mom who wrote to me. My mom died when I was six. Mrs. LeStrange wrote that letter. She said she wanted me to know that my Dad had been weak, and weakness was punished. She said I'd better learn from his mistakes and be careful and ... he's not weak!"

"Bellatrix LeStrange," Neville allowed his own pronunciation of the name to come like venom, infusing it with all the hate and revulsion he had ever felt for its owner, "is a sick, foul, twisted, sadistic excuse for a woman and a witch. Don't you ever believe anything she ever says or writes to you." He locked his eyes with Runcorn's, allowing him to see the honesty behind his words. "If your father is anything like you, Renny, he's not weak at all. And I think he'll be proud of you in the end."

There was a pause, and then it was all too much. With a shuddering, choking gasp, Neville found his arms full as Runcorn collapsed against him. He stroked the smooth emerald fabric of the hood on the boy's back, and he was still burning, aching, throbbing from the pain of the flogging and the long hours chained to the wall, but he was making hushing noises and comforting a young Slytherin, the child of a Death Eater whose strong body was trembling violently as he wept hot, bitter tears against Neville's chest.

It should have been twisted, surreal, but he felt no hesitation as he whispered into the dark chestnut hair, "It's okay to hurt. None of this is fair. None of this is fair at all."