Resistance

Chapter 11 - Proper Discipline

Neville spoke to the Gryffindors on the first evening of the Easter term. Everyone was whispering about Ginny's disappearance and he knew he couldn't leave it unremarked. He gathered everyone in the Common Room, and announced that Ginny would not be returning to school due to family problems.

'Is she dead?' asked one first year in a hushed voice.

'Of course not!' said Neville at once, suppressing his own thoughts. 'Lots of witches and wizards haven't been able to come back to school for various reasons. It doesn't mean they're dead. The important thing is for everyone to carry on as normal, which is what Ginny wants.' He nearly said would have wanted. 'When the time comes, she'll come back to Hogwarts with Harry.'

At dinner he kept an eye on Snape, who sat smugly at the High Table. He was sure that Snape glanced his way on more than one occasion with a nasty look of triumph on his face. He was glad of Seamus chomping away next to him, trying to keep up a conversation about Quidditch. Somehow, he had to keep going, to act normally. He saw the little faces of the younger kids looking at him, and he knew they needed for him to be calm and in control.

In Dark Arts the following day Carrow informed the class they would be learning the Imperius curse. Ernie Macmillan's podgy hand flew into the air. 'But sir, that's an Unforgivable Curse! You can't do Unforgivable Curses, they're illegal!'

Carrow glowered at him. 'Tell you what, I'll get them to make being a pompous speccy little toerag illegal shall I, and see how you like it?' Crabbe and Goyle roared with laughter, to which Carrow added his own wheezy chuckle.

'Get in pairs and take it in turns to put your partner under the curse. Whoever gets their partner doing the funniest thing wins a prize.' No one moved. Carrow made a shooing motion. 'Get on with it you little bleeders! Want me to blast you outta them chairs?' He raised his wand threateningly, and everyone got up.

'This feels so wrong,' muttered Seamus.

'Let's just pretend,' Neville muttered back. 'I'll be 'Imperius'd' first.'

Soon the room was full of students hopping on one leg, picking their noses or scratching their bottoms or hitting themselves. Unsurprisingly, Crabbe and Goyle won the prize for most ridiculous behaviour. Crabbe got Goyle to break a chair over his own head, whilst Goyle got Crabbe to lower his trousers and pee against the desk, to the shrieks and disgust of the rest of the class. Even Malfoy looked rather dismayed. Carrow however was delighted.

'Well done boys, good work,' he chuckled. 'Tomorrow's class will be held in the evening. Everyone is to report to the dungeons at seven o'clock. Don't worry about curfew.'

'What d'you think Carrow's up to?' asked Seamus as they left class.

'Dunno, but you can bet it's nothing good,' said Neville gloomily.

The following evening the seventh year Dark Arts class trailed reluctantly down to the dungeons. Apart from his visits to Slughorn, Neville hadn't been down there since his fifth year, when he left his Potions exam full of joy that he'd never again be stuck in a fume filled dank underground room in close proximity to Severus Snape.

They trooped into a different dungeon - one that was cold and empty and seemed to live up to its name. The only object in the room was a low, lumpy object covered in a piece of sack. Both of the Carrows stood at the front of the room looking excited. Amycus was virtually twitching. Alecto transferred her weight from one foot to the other like a child queuing in Honeydukes.

'Is everybody here?' asked Carrow, before they'd even all got inside. 'Then let's get going. This evening we're gonna do some proper good magic!' He rubbed his hands together with glee, something Neville had only thought happened in comics. 'Tonight, boys and girls, I'm gonna show you the Cruciatus curse!'

'No!' Neville was so shocked that he shouted out loud, against a background of loud gasps.

'Yes, Longbottom, yes!' wheezed Carrow joyfully. 'And here to help us is Fredericks!' He grasped the sacking and whisked it away, revealing a small boy, sitting curled up on the floor, shaking with fear.

It was like something from a nightmare. Neville stared in frank horror at the child on the floor. He was chained to the wall by a cuff around his ankle. He couldn't have been more than twelve. At first Neville assumed he must be a luckless Muggle, but then he realised the child was wearing Hogwarts robes.

'Stop quivering, you snivelling little brat!' jeered Carrow. He turned back to address the class. 'Fredericks thought it would be clever to set off a Dungbomb in my sister's class, didn't you, Fredericks?' he continued.

Fredericks managed to say something that sounded like, 'It wasn't me!'

Alecto took over from her brother. 'We've told you kids again and again, either knuckle down or pay the price. But you don't listen. You carry on with your 'Dumbledore's Army' and your 'support Harry Potter' and your nasty little pranks. Lack of discipline, that's the problem. You've all been used to getting away with it. Now you're going to learn the meaning of proper discipline.'

Amycus looked around at the shocked faces of his class. 'Now, where are my star pupils? Crabbe, Goyle?' The two hulking boys barged their way through the Dark Arts class, most of whom were still too shocked to move or speak. 'Now, do you know the words?'

'Yes sir,' said Crabbe, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet in anticipation. 'I've been practicing on mice. Me and Goyle stole a box out of McGonagall's classroom.' The two oafs giggled at this piece of cleverness.

'Good, good. Now then Fredericks, on your feet.' Carrow towered over the boy, who if anything curled up more tightly.

'I said on your feet!' Carrow flicked his wand viciously and the little boy jerked upright off the floor, his arms and legs bending back at painful angles. He landed on his feet with a thump. Neville saw his terrified face for the first time, puffed up from crying and covered in snot. He made a pathetic spectacle. 'Look at the little crybaby!' laughed Alecto. 'Crying for his Mummy!'

'Come forward now, Vincent, you go first. Remember, say the word nice and clearly and once the spell is cast, concentrate hard to hold it.' Carrow was giving more comprehensible instructions than he ever had in all their Dark Arts classes to date.

Neville still didn't believe Crabbe would really do it - or rather he didn't think Crabbe could possibly have the ability to do it. He knew that moral compunction wouldn't hold back the Slytherin bully, but in terms of spell casting he had always been able to rely on Crabbe and Goyle to get lower marks than even him.

Crabbe pointed his wand at little Fredericks, his heavy brows knitted in concentration, and said, 'Crucio!' Fredericks gave an unearthly howl and contorted his whole body, collapsing double, his hands clawing the air, his every breath coming as a high pitched keening sound.

Neville reacted instinctively, throwing himself at Crabbe. He crashed into the boy's massive bulk, which felt like hitting a brick wall. Before he could regain his balance, a curse hit him, throwing him right back into the air. He landed flat on the floor with a thump that knocked all of his breath out and he lay staring stupidly at the dungeon ceiling. He could hear Carrow laughing through a tinny ringing in his ears.

After a moment, the anxious faces of his peers appeared above him. Lavender and Parvati, Seamus and Ernie, all crowded in. Blinking, he sat up and struggled to his feet to find himself facing Amycus Carrow. 'I think we've got ourselves our next volunteer to try the curse. No need to throw yourself at us, Longbottom, there's plenty of time for everyone to have a go. We've got all night.' He directed this last comment at Fredericks, who was cowering by the dungeon wall. 'Come on then Longbottom, let's see you cast the spell.'

Neville stood straight, wondering if he could break Fredericks' chain before someone stopped him. He decided against it; Fredericks was in no fit state to move, much less run, and if he did run, where was he going to go? So instead, Neville faced the Carrows. 'Never,' he said flatly. 'I will never cast that spell on any living creature.'

The Carrows cackled. 'You want to watch it boy, refusing to do something teacher asks could land you in detention.'

'Fine. Put me in detention. Let that little boy go and put me in his place. At least let the students pick on someone their own size.'

His effrontery obviously shocked the Carrows, who stopped laughing and exchanged glances. They clearly hadn't expected anyone to volunteer to be tortured. Amycus decided to deal with it by shouting louder. 'Don't mess me about, you little weasel! Do the curse now!'

'Never!' Neville shouted back.

Carrow, now red with fury, shouted a spell that sounded like a swearword and with a flash of light Neville felt an intense pain in his face. It felt as though the skin was tearing and burning at the same time. He was again blasted backwards off his feet and this time when his head hit the ground everything went dark.

He woke up later - how much later he didn't know. He immediately tried to sit up, but that made his head spin so violently he had to stop. He could hear anxious voices. 'I think he's waking up! Neville, Neville, can you hear me?'

The room managed to stop spinning enough to focus down on one face, hanging over his. It took him a moment to realise the face was upside down. Groggily, he tried again to sit up, prompting a flutter of worried whispers. 'Neville, perhaps you should stay lying down for just a minute...' said someone.

'The kid... Fredericks,' he gasped, looking around. That made his head spin more, so he had to stop.

'He's OK - well, maybe not OK, but they've stopped. After they knocked you out, the Carrows panicked a bit. I think they thought they might have killed you, which apparently is a bit too far even by their standards - at least since you're a pureblood. When you didn't come round immediately, they ran off.' The speaker was Seamus, who was peering at his face.

Ignoring the protests around him, Neville got onto hands and knees and crawled across the dungeon floor to the huddled figure of Fredericks. There was a nasty acrid smell and he could see the little boy's clothes were damp. He must have wet himself during the torture. His remaining classmates followed him like a frightened and indecisive train. 'Fredericks?' asked Neville softly, putting out a hand to touch the quivering boy. Fredericks jumped at his touch and cringed back further. 'It's OK, they've gone, it's just us now. No one's going to hurt you. I promise. It's all over.'

Gradually the little boy uncurled a bit, but recoiled again when he saw Neville. 'It's OK, you don't have to be scared of me,' he said again.

Seamus, kneeling next to him, said, 'I think it's your face, mate. They've messed you up pretty badly.'

For the first time, Neville touched his cheek. He encountered torn skin and unpleasantly wet flesh. He forced himself not to think about it. 'Fredericks, come on. Let's get you out of this dungeon.' He suddenly had a thought, and reached for his wand, only to find an empty pocket. Before he could panic, someone next to him tapped him on the shoulder and handed it over.

Neville concentrated on the lock of the shackle around Fredericks' little leg. 'Alohomora!' he whispered, and to his surprise, the lock clunked and loosened. The Carrows hadn't even bothered - or perhaps hadn't been skilful enough - to lock it with anything more than a first year could break.

Awkwardly, he removed the shackle and gave the boy a pat on the shoulder. 'Come on, mate, let's get you up,' he said firmly, struggling to his feet himself. The little boy uncurled somewhat but didn't make any effort to stand. He was still shaking and terrified. Neville looked round to see who'd stuck with him. 'Someone, do that charm that makes things feather-light,' he asked.

There was a pause, then Michael Corner stepped forward and carefully cast the spell. Neville went to pick up Fredericks, but Seamus stopped him. 'You can hardly stand up, let me take him.' Neville hesitated, then relented. The room seemed to be spinning slightly. Fredericks consented to Seamus picking him up and they began a slow procession out of the room.

In the corridor they encountered Blaise Zabini, looking strained. Blaise did not take Dark Arts, but appeared to be approaching from the direction of the Slytherin common room. When he saw Neville and Seamus carrying the boy, his eyes widened. 'What's going on?' he asked, sounding less composed and haughty than usual. 'Crabbe said something about torture...'

'The Carrows have decided that first years who've earned detention are good candidates for us to practice Unforgivables on,' said Neville, angrily.

Zabini was visibly shocked. 'And you? Goyle mentioned something about you being dead...'

'And you thought you'd come and gloat, did you?' asked Seamus angrily. 'Well bad luck, you slimy snake loving piece of scum, Neville's fine.'

Colour rose in Zabini's handsome face. 'No, I thought I'd better see what was happening, since I'd seen the Carrows legging it in the opposite direction. I am Head Boy-'

'You must be very proud of yourself,' sneered Seamus, but Neville put out a hand to stop his friend.

'That was decent of you,' said Neville, causing Seamus to nearly have a fit.

Zabini looked embarrassed by this. He looked at the boy in Seamus' arms and his nose twitched slightly. For a moment Neville thought he was going to say something nasty, but then he indicated back down the corridor. 'There's a prefects' bathroom at the end of the corridor on the left, just before the main stairs. Password's 'periwinkle'. No one will be there.'

'Thank you,' said Neville. Zabini nodded once, awkwardly, and then walked away.

'What was that all about?' asked Seamus in a whisper as they hurried to the bathroom with Fredericks. Neville's face was starting to sting badly.

'He has to have an ulterior motive,' whispered Michael, who didn't look on the house of the snake any more kindly than his Gryffindor friends. 'What's the betting he's given us the password to Carrow's private quarters?'

Fredericks whimpered at this and Neville shot Michael a look. He strode up to the door himself and declared 'periwinkle!' before trying the handle. For a moment he half expected that it would open into some horrible place, but in fact all he saw was a large, well-appointed bathroom.

Seamus put Fredericks down by the bath. Lavender and Parvati looked like they were about to swoop, so Neville headed them off. 'Can you both go and find Professor McGonagall? She needs to know what's been happening. No point going to Snape, it was probably his idea.' The girls looked rather disappointed, but they followed his instructions.

He turned to the others. 'You guys had better go back too. We don't want to attract too much attention. Go back to your houses and keep your heads down.'

Ernie Macmillan looked like he was going to protest, but then shut his mouth. They trooped out, looking awkwardly back over their shoulders.

Once the majority were gone he almost sagged with relief. His face was pounding with pain but he ignored it. He returned to the big bath and turned on the taps. He tried a few different ones before he found one that created big clouds of foam. He turned to Fredericks. 'Hop in, don't worry, me and Seamus won't look.'

The two boys turned their backs. After a moment he heard timorous sounds of Fredericks undressing, then a tiny splash as he got into the bath. 'You need to get to the hospital wing,' muttered Seamus.

'I'm fine,' lied Neville. He moved over to Frederick's clothes and cast a cleaning spell. He wasn't sure he'd done a perfect job but it would have to do. 'Is the bath OK, Fredericks?' asked Neville. 'What's your first name, by the way? I'm Neville, and this is Seamus.'

'Jamie,' said the boy, in a voice barely above a whisper. He looked at Neville suddenly, with wide eyes. 'You're the leader of Dumbledore's Army, aren't you?'

'We don't really have a leader,' said Neville diplomatically.

'My Dad said Dumbledore was a hero,' the boy continued, in a whisper. 'But he died before I came here. I hate it here.' He began to sniffle. 'I wish I'd never come. It's frightening and horrible, I want to go home.'

'You've been very brave,' said Neville. 'Listen, this isn't what Hogwarts is really like. When we came here, it was wonderful. You could learn magic, play Quidditch, go to feasts, make loads of new friends... and that's the way we want it to be again. That's why we're Dumbledore's Army, we want to make Hogwarts good again, like it used to be. Like it was when Dumbledore was around.'

Jamie Fredericks gazed at him, eyes like saucers. Neville continued, in the voice of one telling a bedtime story. 'One day, Harry Potter will come back, and when he does, Dumbledore's Army will fight. We'll get rid of Snape, and the Carrows, and get good people to come instead. Maybe Professor Lupin will come back, he was a good teacher. He was fair and kind-'

'-and a werewolf-' muttered Seamus.

'And when they've all gone, it will be fun to be at Hogwarts. You'll look forward to coming back at the end of the holidays. You won't want to leave when you get to year seven. Yeah, they'll be rubbish things, like difficult homework and ordinary detentions and boring old History of Magic, but it won't really matter because the good bits are so good.'

'Really?' whispered Fredericks.

'I promise,' said Neville. 'Now, do you want to dry off and put your robes back on? Which house are you in?'

After Neville and Seamus had dropped Fredericks back at Hufflepuff, and handed him over to the fussing of Ernie and Susan, they headed back to Gryffindor Tower. 'You ought to get that cut seen to,' urged Seamus, but Neville shook his head. It was past curfew, and all he wanted was to get into his own four-poster and never get out of it again.

But at the portrait hole they were greeted by Professor McGonagall, who gasped and covered her mouth at the sight of Neville. 'Longbottom! Is it true - torture used on students! Surely not, in Hogwarts, surely not,' she seemed to be pleading.

'It's true,' he said shortly.

McGonagall steadied herself on the frame of the Fat Lady's portrait. 'I can't believe it,' she said faintly. 'I must... I must go and speak to...' she seemed to be searching desperately for options, 'to Severus,' she finished finally.

'What are you going to do, appeal to his better nature?' asked Neville, blushing immediately as he realised he'd just spoken back to McGonagall.

But she didn't seem to notice. 'I worked with him for sixteen years,' she said softly. 'Sixteen years. I thought I knew him. Severus has always been... difficult, but condoning torture on children! Even he...'

'He killed Dumbledore though, and no one thought he'd do that.' Neville was staring at McGonagall, the teacher whom he'd respected and feared, but all he saw was an elderly woman who was powerless against an overwhelming evil. He realised there was nothing she could do.

The Transfiguration teacher seemed to pull herself together. 'Look at your face, Longbottom,' she exclaimed, coming closer. Neville tensed up, not particularly wanting his Head of House examining his injuries.

'It's fine,' he muttered, but she was already prodding it with her wand, whispering some sort of incantation.

She stepped back after a moment. 'It's a cursed wound,' she said, with anger in her voice. 'It will take a long time to heal. I had better get some pain-killing potion for you and an anti-infection salve.' When he moved to protest she held up her hand. 'It's not up for discussion, Longbottom. After that, I am on my way to see the Headmaster, to appeal to his better nature, as you put it so nicely. Now, get into the Common Room quickly before anyone comes by and catches you breaking curfew. Go!' she shooed them through the portrait hole.

Once inside the Common Room, Neville turned to Seamus. 'Is she completely mad? Snape doesn't have a better nature.'

*****

The following days were the worst Neville had spent at Hogwarts. News of the torture in detention spread around the school like wild fire, and the atmosphere of fear was horrible. It reminded Neville of the time when the Chamber of Secrets had been open, and students had suspected each other. Even Umbridge's reign of terror had been preferable. He felt such hatred towards the Carrows that he felt sick at the sight of them, and the same went for Snape.

The Dark Arts class weren't invited to any more torture sessions, but Neville had a nasty suspicion that Crabbe and Goyle were having private tuition outside of lessons. All of the other teachers became strangely reluctant to hand out punishments, and Ernie reported rather incredulously that Zabini had instructed the prefects not to give detentions but take more house points instead.

He wasn't surprised to hear that Fredericks had gone home due to 'ill health'. He found that the boy's small, terrified face kept appearing in his dreams, haunting him. His own wounds didn't heal, though the pain killing potion helped keep the pain down to a dull stinging. He didn't want to risk a DA meeting, though he managed to sneak out on a few occasions to daub graffiti on the walls. It appeared that other members were also still making midnight raids, as other slogans popped up which he wasn't responsible for.

Muggle Studies was only once a week, and the next lesson was exactly a week after Fredericks had been tortured. He wondered if he could risk bunking off, but dismissed this idea. If he started being cowardly and hiding from things it wouldn't be long before everyone did. So he entered the classroom with Seamus as usual and crammed himself into his place. Alecto's eyes seemed to linger on Neville's damaged face, but he ignored her.

'Pigs,' began Carrow, once the class was settled. 'I have marked your last essays on 'Why Muggles are more closely related to pigs than to wizards'. There were some pathetic attempts. I set the easiest topic I possibly could. Muggles and pigs share so much; they're ugly, dirty and very stupid.' She paced up and down the room. 'I know there are those who argue that Muggles are human. But since when did humans behave like this?'

She flicked her wand and a picture appeared on the screen of two Muggles wearing dull green coloured clothing, their faces smeared with mud. 'Filthy,' she commented. The next picture showed a Muggle woman, her face entirely covered in a thick even layer of pale coloured gloop. She was smiling. 'This disgusting creature loves being covered in muck,' commented Carrow. The next picture showed Muggles wearing very little clothing being sick on the pavement. It was night time and the building behind them was lit up in gaudy colours. 'This is how Muggles enjoy themselves. They go out and drink alcohol until they throw up.'

She turned back to the class. 'Pictures like these prove that Muggles are creatures perhaps even more stupid than some of our animal brethren. For example, even a goblin wouldn't consider drinking large quantities of a toxic substance for the simple purpose of making itself ill. Even a Hippogriff wouldn't tolerate having its face covered in slime. Muggles are low, base creatures without the intellect to make sensible decisions. For years these cretinous creatures have 'governed' themselves. You might as well tell a sty full of pigs to form a parliament.'

Neville could feel himself growing increasingly angry throughout Carrow's speech. The fury welled up inside him. Suddenly, he could bear it no longer. Of its own accord his hand raised itself. Carrow stopped in the middle of another lecture on the dirtiness and idiocy of Muggles. 'Yes, Longbottom?' she said eventually.

'Professor, I was just wondering, since Muggles are so stupid and so on, and obviously you know so much about them, how much Muggle blood do you have? I'd say it must be at least 50 percent-' He didn't manage to finish the sentence because Carrow's curse had hit him in the face and sent his chair backwards. Because the classroom was so cramped, he virtually ended up on Malfoy's lap. The latter didn't look thrilled to see him there.

Neville struggled to extract himself, and found Carrow standing over him. Her cheeks were flushed and her piggy eyes bright. 'You...' she said, apparently so angry she could go further. 'If you weren't a pureblood, so help me I'd cut you into little pieces!'

He finally managed to get free of the desk and struggle to his feet. He could feel blood trickling down his neck. He dreaded to think what he looked like; he wouldn't have any face left at this rate. 'You won't intimidate me,' he said through gritted teeth, partly from pain and partly from anger.

'Oh won't I? Get back to your Common Room, now! And you can stay there for the rest of the night! As for the rest of you, you can get lost too!' Carrow began physically pulling students out of their seats and pushing them into the corridor. Everyone was glad to be free of Muggle Studies and hurried to their Common Rooms before Carrow could change her mind. Neville for once did as he was told, and went straight to the Common Room, brushing off the concerns of the rest of the DA. He saw the way some of them were looking at him, an amazed, admiring look that he used to see on people's faces when they looked at Harry. That look terrified him.

Seamus hustled Neville away like an overprotective bouncer. Back in the Common Room the two boys did their best to sort out Neville's face. Both Lavender and Parvati insisted on 'helping' and he bore their ministrations with just the occasional wince. When he went to leave for dinner however, his way was blocked by Goyle, grinning all over his stupid face. 'Goin' somewhere, Longbottom?' he asked. 'You ain't goin' nowhere, Carrow's orders. So little fat piggy boy's gonna have to miss his dinner. Are you gonna go and cry now?'

'I'd have thought missing dinner was a bigger problem for you, Goyle,' replied Neville, standing aside to let the other Gryffindors out.

'No, me an' Vincent's taking shifts, first I guard and he eats, then I eat and he guards,' Goyle beamed as though this was a genius masterplan worthy of Dumbledore.

'Sounds like you get the rough end of that deal. You do realise that all the best things will be gone by the time you get there? The custard will have gone cold, the pie pastry will be soggy, there'll only be the scraggy burned up little potatoes. I can see why Crabbe chose to go first. Oh well, enjoy your dinner.' He jumped back through the portrait hole before Goyle could decide to attack him.

Seamus and the others returned bringing dinner in a leaking napkin and bad news. As Neville sat trying to eat steak and kidney pie without chewing, they filled him in. 'The Carrows have got another kid in detention now, a Ravenclaw first year this time. They've got him chained up in a dungeon, one of his friends saw it. We think they're going to try torturing him again.'

Neville pushed away his food, suddenly no longer hungry. 'This is my fault, I shouldn't have made Carrow angry,' he said in a low voice. 'We've got to get that kid out, as soon as we can.'

'What's the point? The Carrows will just track him down and do the same again.'

Angrily Neville scrambled to his feet. 'The point is...' he began, but then realised he didn't know what the point was. It was the principle. It was the thought he couldn't bear for another child to be tortured that night. He would worry about tomorrow night when it came.

He ran up the stairs to the dormitory, removing his communication Galleon from his pocket as he went. At times like this he wished they could send a more sophisticated message than a simple number code. As he removed the big golden coin, his hand brushed one of the others and he felt it was warm. He removed the fake Sickle used to communicate with Ravenclaw.

He held it up to his face, trying to decipher the tiny figures. Behind him, he heard Seamus enter the room, slightly out of breath. He turned to his friend. 'Looks like someone in Ravenclaw is up to something.'

Seamus nodded. 'Michael Corner and Anthony were looking pretty worked up at dinner, I managed to talk to them briefly. Maybe one of them has gone down to see if they can get that kid out.'

Pacing the floor in his anxiety Neville snapped, 'I need to be there with them.'

'Don't be daft - you'll never get out with them watching the portrait hole. Neville, you can't be everywhere. You've gotta let other people do their things.'

Neville sighed, then sat down heavily on the bed. 'You're right. It used to drive me mad when Harry refused to let anyone help.'

They waited for what seemed to be an eternity, Neville repeatedly checking his Sickle even though he was holding it and would know the minute a message arrived. When it finally did glow warm he dropped it in his haste. The message was spelt out one letter at a time. Neville read out, 'P...R...P - no, sorry, O - B...LEM. Problem.' He looked up at Seamus. 'What does that mean?'

'I'd say it meant there was a problem,' said Seamus facetiously, and then became more serious when he saw Neville's face. 'Don't panic, it might not be anything serious.'

'If it wasn't serious why would they send this message? We've got to get there.'

'Get there? Are you off your head? Have you forgotten we're trapped inside Gryffindor tower until morning?' Seamus stared at him, but Neville was already striding over the window. He grappled to get it open, introducing a cold blast of night air into the room.

Sticking his wand arm out as far as possible he shouted, 'Accio broomstick!' He waited hopefully for a long time, then turned to Seamus. 'Come on, help me. I'm not much good at Summoning charms, but if we both do it together it should be OK. I got the idea from Harry at the Triwizard Tournament.'

'That seems like a really long time ago,' said Seamus, moving over to stand beside Neville and putting his own arm out of the window. They had to stand uncomfortably close together, but when they cast the spell they could feel the drag and pull sensation that meant it had worked.

A few minutes later a very old and battered broomstick with ragged bristles and a chipped handle came barrelling in through the window and almost impaled them. 'Call that a broom?' asked Seamus, disgusted.

'I expect all the decent ones have anti-Theft jinxes on them,' said Neville briskly.

'Now it's here, what are we going to do with it?' asked Seamus, although he looked as though he had his suspicions about the answer.

'We're going to fly on it to Ravenclaw Tower,' replied Neville simply. 'You can be in charge, you're a much better flier than me, I'd just crash us into the battlements or something.'

'Whoa! That thing's never going to take two of us, it looks like it wouldn't get airborne with one!'

'Well it's going to have to. I can't sit here all night and not find out what's gone on. Come on, Seamus, where's your sense of adventure?'

'You're mad, Neville Longbottom,' said Seamus, eyeing the broom with trepidation. He caught hold of the handle and swung himself on. 'I don't know if two of us will even fit.'

Neville grasped the broom and managed to wedge himself in between the bristles and Seamus. It was a tight fit and once again he was up close and personal with his dorm mate. Seamus wriggled forwards uncomfortably, and then kicked off the floor. The broom rose a few feet and hung, listing slightly to the left. 'C'mon,' he murmured, caressing the handle. 'There's a good girl.' They managed a lopsided circle around the dorm, stopping at a hover beside the open window.

'This thing had better work, we're a long way off the ground,' was his final comment before he pushed off from the wall and they lurched out of the window into the cold night air. Instantly the ground below them seemed to pull like a big magnet, an aching chasm that drew them downwards. The broom dropped - not fast, but with a slow inevitability. Neville's stomach churned and he gripped the broom very hard, not that it would make much difference.

Seamus continued to mutter and cajole the broom, and it finally rose by a few feet. Tilting rather unpleasantly now, they limped around the edge of the castle, towards the crooked shape of Ravenclaw Tower. The lights in the windows glittered appealingly. 'Just as well Ravenclaw tower is a bit shorter than Gryffindor, or we'd be screwed,' Seamus shouted back, his voice whipped away by the wind even at that slow speed.

Neville didn't remind him that they'd need to get back to Gryffindor Tower by broom as well. 'Which window d'you think is the Common Room?' he shouted in Seamus' ear.

'How am I meant to know? Don't tell me sense of direction is down there with broom flying and Summoning charms on your list of talents.' The broom gave an alarming lurch and Seamus turned his attention back to steering. They were close to the tower now and Neville tried to see in the windows, but there was nothing but reflection from the diamond panes.

'Go lower,' he instructed. 'I think the Ravenclaws have said their Common Room is like ours, at the bottom of the tower.' Seamus steered the broom on a wonky course downwards. Finally they reached a big window where Neville could see inside. He could make out students dotted about, bending over books, and a chess set on a table. 'Gotcha!' he muttered. With one hand still clinging to the broom, he removed the Galleon and changed the code to spell out 'window'.

'They'd better hurry up,' muttered Seamus, pulling up again on the drooping broom. 'This thing doesn't want to stay up much longer.'

A moment later a pale face appeared at the window, squinting out. Anthony. Neville waved, and the boy's eyes widened at the sight of them. Then he pointed upwards and held up three fingers. 'Go up three windows,' Neville instructed Seamus.

'Yes, boss. Where would sir like his taxi service to take him next?' retorted Seamus sarcastically, looping round to give him some momentum. The broom climbed more slowly than a centaur up stairs, but eventually they reached the windowsill of the third window up, which was pushed open as they arrived, almost beheading Seamus.

'There you are! Watch it, careful - that's it.' Anthony was easing them into the room, Neville first. There wasn't enough space to fly in through the window, so a very ungainly climbing effort was required. Neville was pulled roughly through the window and found himself on his back surrounded by the Ravenclaw DA members. He sat up hurriedly.

'What's going on? What's the problem?' he asked, as Anthony shut the window behind Seamus, who was wiping sweat from his brow.

The Ravenclaws exchanged looks, and Anthony spoke. 'It's Michael. He went down to release that first year they've got, but the Carrows caught him. They tortured him pretty badly.'

'Where is he?' asked Neville, looking around for Michael's curly head.

'I took him to the hospital wing,' said Anthony grimly. 'Both of us went down, but we'd split up to search. He went one way, I went the other. I'd just finished searching the last of the dungeons at my end when I heard him screaming. I ran back as fast as I could, but by the time I got there they'd done their worst.'

Neville didn't dare ask the next question. Had Michael suffered the same fate as his parents? Even assuming Anthony knew the answer, he didn't think he was ready to hear it. Instead he said, 'I should have gone. If I hadn't antagonised Carrow...'

'It wouldn't have made any difference!' Padma interrupted him fiercely. 'You hadn't antagonised Carrow the last time. The Carrows love torturing and terrifying kids, nothing you say or do is going to change that. You can't keep expecting to save the world, Neville, none of us can. They're too powerful.' She looked tearful, and turned away.

Anthony nodded. 'Padma's right; do you honestly think it would have been better if you'd been tortured instead of Michael?'

Neville knew that he would have felt better if it had been him. No matter how bad the pain, it couldn't be worse than the guilt. He suddenly had a better understanding for how Harry must have felt when Cedric Diggory and Sirius Black got killed, or when Ron and Hermione were badly hurt in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.

'What are we going to do?' asked Terry Boot. 'We can't let things carry on like this, there's got to be someone who can help. Somewhere?' He sounded so forlorn, Padma put her arm around him.

'There's no one,' said Seamus. 'The Ministry is in You-Know-Who's hands. The old teachers haven't got any power over the Carrows; all they do is try to avoid giving us any punishment. Snape's hardly going to stop them. Dumbledore's lot are mostly dead or hiding out. You saw what happened to Xeno Lovegood when he tried to defy them, and that was just an old nutter writing a few things they didn't like in a magazine no one believes anyway.'

'There's still Harry,' Neville cut in. 'Harry's still out there somewhere, with Ron and Hermione. They rescued all those Muggleborns from right inside the Ministry. He's defeated You-Know-Who not just once but lots of times. He loves Hogwarts - remember how he even spent every holiday here that he could? And he hates Snape just as much. Harry won't let this carry on, he'll come back, with his special power and whatever secrets Dumbledore taught him, and we'll fight out Snape and the Carrows for good.'

Everyone stared at him for a moment, and he felt himself begin to blush. Eventually Anthony said, 'You really believe that, don't you?'

'Yes. Don't you?' He stood facing the other boy, staring each other down. The mood suddenly felt confrontational.

Eventually Anthony looked away and shrugged. 'I don't know what I believe any more,' he said quietly. 'I think Harry's a good bloke...'

Voices reached them from the stairs, complaining about homework. They passed the doorway to the dorm and continued upwards, accompanied by the tramp of feet. Anthony looked tense again. 'You two've got to get out of here,' he said.

'Why?' asked Neville.

Anthony looked exasperated. 'Not everyone in Ravenclaw thinks Dumbledore's Army and what it stands for is a good thing. There're people in this house who think the Death Eaters have the right idea. It's not just Slytherins, you know. And a lot of the others don't like the DA - they think it's a Gryffindor thing, and that all the people who've been hurt out of it are Ravenclaws.'

'Have you seen Neville's face?' asked Seamus angrily.

'I'm not saying it!' Anthony walked across the room and reached under one of the beds, retrieving a broomstick. 'Here. I've been supposed to be mending it for ages. It's OK though - and got to be better than that thing.'

Seamus was still glaring at Anthony, but he took the broom and went to the window. Neville didn't like to leave on a bad note, and he turned to Anthony again. 'I'm really sorry about Michael.'

'I know you are,' said Anthony. He suddenly looked very tired. 'We all are. I just... I wish that things could be normal. I'm sick of fighting. I'm sick of being noble and trying to do what's right rather than what's easy. I don't want any of this hassle anymore.' He reached out and patted Neville's shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Nev. You'd better go, before anyone realises you're here.'

Seamus was already out of the window and bobbing on the broom. Neville slipped when climbing out of the window and almost fell. It took a fast manoeuvre from Seamus, and Anthony grabbing the back of his robes, to prevent him plummeting like Dumbledore. He landed on the broom with hands so sweaty they could barely grip and bruised knees. Seamus didn't wait, but soared away, heading back for Gryffindor tower.

Back in their dorm room neither spoke. Neville changed into his pyjamas and stood at the window, staring out at the stars. When Seamus got back from the bathroom and climbed into his bed, Neville looked over at his friend. 'Harry is going to come back, you know.'

'Yeah,' said Seamus, without meeting his eye.

'Do you think we should give up? Are you like Anthony, sick of the hassle?'

'Of course I'm sick of the hassle. Of course I want everything to go back to how it was. But I know it won't and I know that if we don't resist it will be just as bloody awful as it is already. We haven't got a choice, Neville. I'd rather die fighting than go along with a regime that kills Muggles and Muggleborns, that thinks it's good fun to torture children.' Seamus stopped, looking rather stunned by his own speech.

Neville shuffled his feet, suddenly embarrassed. He went over to his bed and pulled back the covers. There was an awkward silence as he blew out the candles. Finally he said gruffly. 'Well... good night then.'

'Yeah, g'night,' replied Seamus, from the other side of their empty dorm.