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lomonaaerenTitle: Of Thestrals and Roses
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: AU, Ravenclaw Harry, angst, canonical child abuse, canonical torture
Pairings: Harry/Neville, background mentions of canon pairings
Wordcount:
Summary: Neville hadn’t had many people in his life who took the time to understand him. Harry Potter, even if he was in Ravenclaw for some weird reason, was one of the few that did. And, in return, Neville would give his all back to him, and change the course of fate.
Author’s Notes: This is one of my “Songs of Summer” fics, one-shots being posted between the summer solstice and the first of August. This is for a prompt by ssam_raven, about Harry in Ravenclaw, bonding with forest creatures and possibly dating Neville. I have tweaked the prompt a bit as Voldemort is alive in this one, which he was not in the original prompt. Hope you enjoy. This will have a second chapter to be posted tomorrow as it got much longer than I anticipated.
Of Thestrals and Roses
I. Roses
Neville found Harry Potter sitting in the middle of a circle of black roses near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Neville hesitated, the container of special crushed mealworms in his hand suddenly heavy. Black roses especially liked the mealworm fertilizer; they’d grow tall and heavy with it. Neville had only read about black roses and never seen any before he came to Hogwarts, and the first few months at Hogwarts had been so overwhelming that he’d taken to sneaking off into the Forest to feed them.
But now Harry Potter was there, with his roses. Harry Potter, who had Sorted into Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor, the way everyone had expected, and who was a lot quieter than most people thought a hero should be.
Neville took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. The black roses needed food. They were fairly hardy plants, but once they got started on a certain sort of fertilizer, all the books Neville had read said they needed to keep being on it. He strode towards the patch of roses.
When he came nearer, he could hear Potter speaking in a soft voice. He was reading from a book, Neville realized with a start. When he came nearer, he could hear that it was “The Tale of the Three Brothers.”
“And Death said…” Potter looked up and caught his eye. He started. Then he blushed, tucking the book away. “Um, hello.”
Somehow, the way Potter blushed and avoided Neville’s eyes reminded Neville of the way that he acted himself in Potions. He tried to give Potter a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t more of a grimace. He sat down on the outer side of the roses and uncapped the little metal container he was carrying. “Hello.”
“What’s that?” Potter asked.
“Special food for the roses,” Neville said, and began to sprinkle it along the edges of the rose patch, burying it with small pats of his hands. He didn’t look at Potter. “They like it.”
“Oh.”
Potter didn’t say anything more than that, and he certainly didn’t move away or try to make fun of Neville for feeding the roses. He lingered, watching, and only spoke again when Neville had made his way all around the circle. “What is it? Why do they like it so much?”
Neville expected to see mockery in Potter’s eyes when he looked up, but there was nothing of the kind. Instead, something gleamed there that Neville supposed was Ravenclaw curiosity. He smiled back. “Crushed mealworms. Black roses are supposed to be closer to death than other flowers. They need something that was recently alive.”
“Really?”
Potter leaned forwards, and it didn’t take long before Neville found himself chattering away as if he and Potter had been friends all his life. He hoped he was doing it right. He’d never had a friend before.
*
“Sorry I’m late,” Harry gasped, dropping down next to Neville in their special spot. The black roses had gone dormant when winter came, so they’d started meeting on the edge of the lake, in an isolated bend of the bank where they weren’t visible from the pitch or the castle. “Nev, what’s wrong?”
He’d just registered that Neville’s head was drooping and his hand was clamped on his arm in the way he had when he was nervous. Harry scooted closer to Neville and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. Neville leaned on him.
They were each other’s only friends. Neville was shunned by other people in his House for reasons Harry didn’t really understand. He thought it was plenty brave to keep walking around day after day when people teased you and made fun of you. Harry should know.
And everyone kept expecting things of Harry that he didn’t know how to fulfill. First they’d expected him to be a Gryffindor. Then they’d thought he would get the top marks in every class and be a genius. (That was impossible with both Quirrell and Snape as teachers). Then they’d thought he would have a kind word for everybody. Harry didn’t have any kind words for people who bullied Neville or asked him probing questions about his “family.”
“Snape,” Neville finally whispered, leaning more heavily on Harry’s shoulder. “He—he said I was a hopeless wizard and I should just…give up and go home…” His voice trailed off.
Harry took a long breath, because if he exploded, that wouldn’t help anybody. “We’re going to get you better in Potions, Neville.”
Neville shook his head miserably. “Nothing can help. I get so nervous when Snape’s around that I can’t do the potion right no matter what’s in it.”
“We’re going to work on that,” Harry said. “And we’ll practice Cheering Charms, and you can cast them on yourself before you go into class, okay?”
“They don’t last long enough.”
“We’ll get them to.” Harry squeezed Neville’s shoulder again and sat back. “Come on. We have to start practicing.”
Neville looked up at him with watery eyes, but smiled a little when Harry kept eyeing him determinedly. “Do you think you can get better in Potions, too?”
“If you find an Anti-Hate Charm, let me know,” Harry said wryly, and smiled at the sound of Neville’s laughter.
II. Thestrals
Neville had expected to find Harry in the Forbidden Forest, but not feeding scraps of meat to something invisible.
Neville stood quietly off to the side for a bit and watched. Harry was stroking the neck of something invisible, too, something far enough above him that Neville was reminded of Ivory, Gran’s evil-tempered old Granian. Harry paused, seeming to listen, and then held out another scrap of meat.
Neville coughed softly to alert Harry that he was there. Harry turned around and smiled at him. “Hi, Nev.”
“What are you doing, Harry?”
“You know how I told you that I did see Quirrell die last year, even though Professor Dumbledore tried to keep me from seeing it?”
Neville nodded fervently. He had gone down with Harry into the trap maze that protected the Stone, although at the time they had thought it was Snape who was stealing it. He had been able to help with the Devil’s Snare and reason out that some of the potions in Snape’s trap smelled like nettle wine and couldn’t be the real potion, but otherwise, he had felt pretty useless while Harry fetched the right key to unlock the enchanted door and then flew Neville on that broom over the too-complicated chess game and the unconscious troll. At least who had let the troll into the school last Halloween had made some more sense when Harry confronted Quirrell. It was a miracle that Snape had found it before it hurt anyone.
“Well, it turned out that you can see thestrals when you’ve seen someone die.” Harry offered another scrap of meat, which was snapped up by invisible teeth. “I actually saw them pulling the carriages when we came back, but I didn’t want to say anything then.”
Neville could guess why. Harry had been stuck in a carriage with Michael Corner and Stephen Cornfoot, his Ravenclaw roommates. They weren’t enemies, but they weren’t exactly friends, either. Harry was too quiet for them.
“There’s a big herd in the forest,” Harry said, eyes still fixed on something Neville couldn’t see. “Hagrid tends them, but he has so many other responsibilities they don’t get to see him often. So I’m feeding them.”
“Oh.” Neville came forwards and forced himself to stand there instead of running away yelling, the way he wanted to. “Can I help?”
Harry gaped at him. Neville folded his arms. Yes, Harry knew that Neville was afraid of a lot of things, and he tried to go out of his way to make sure that Neville wouldn’t have to be scared all the time. But it didn’t mean Neville was going to run every time something scared him.
Then Harry’s smile lit up his face. “Of course,” he said, and held out the bucket of meat scraps. “I know you can’t see them, but you can toss it into the air, and they’ll catch it.”
Neville held his breath a little as he dug his hand into the bucket of scraps, but while they were a bit slimy, they weren’t smelly. Then he tossed the meat up and watched it vanish. For a second, he thought he caught a glimpse of teeth flashing, and a tail swishing. Then he shook his head, and it disappeared.
“Thanks, Nev,” Harry said softly after a few more minutes of feeding.
Neville punched him lightly in the shoulder. “What are friends for?”
*
Harry took a deep breath before he removed Tom Riddle’s diary from his robe pocket and dumped it on the ground in front of Elsa, the lead thestral mare.
She promptly laid her ears back and took a long step away from the diary. Her nostrils flared, and she showed him the edges of her teeth.
Harry nodded. The diary wasn’t just a thing with Dark magic or the magic of death, both of which thestrals could sense and weren’t bothered by. It was worse than that. The diary had probably been writing to some other student who’d had it before Harry found it, corrupting them.
Harry tucked the diary away. He would take it to Professor Dumbledore as soon as possible.
“Harry?”
Harry whipped around. Neville was walking towards him, head bowed and hands stuffed in his robe pockets. He’d gone home for the Easter holiday, of course, while Harry had stayed here, and they hadn’t had a chance to speak since he got back. “Nev?”
Neville looked up. His face was pale and streaked with tears. And he looked straight at Elsa and saw her.
“Oh, Nev,” Harry said, reaching out to pull him closer. “Who was it?”
“My grandfather,” Neville whispered, leaning against him. “He and my Gran h-have lived apart f-from each other for a long time b-because they didn’t get along. But he was v-visiting this holiday and w-wanted to get to know me better. And then he had a heart attack and just f-fell over.”
Harry hugged Neville closer still. Sure, he’d seen death since last year, but he would never have wanted Neville to see thestrals if he could help it. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Neville’s shoulders shook for a little while. Then he looked up and let his eyes clearly trace the shape of Elsa’s wings while she ate some of the jerky Harry had got from the house-elves and scattered on the ground earlier. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered.
Harry hugged him harder, and they stood there for long moments in silence, the only two humans who would understand.
III. Devil’s Snare
Neville clutched the sides of the pot and waited until Harry looked up from his intense study of a Defense book that wasn’t one they’d been assigned for Professor Lupin’s class. It was only the two of them in the cool depths of the Forbidden Forest, as usual. Harry straightened, pushed his glasses up his nose, and blinked at Neville. “Hi?”
“Hi.” Neville sat down and held the pot out towards Harry. Harry took it with a proper caution that at least showed he’d recognized the plant inside it. “What’s this?” he still asked.
“Devil’s Snare.” Neville took a long breath. “I’ve been working with cuttings in my Gran’s garden for years now. I’ve trained this one to recognize me and do what I tell it. And I told it to protect you.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Wow. I didn’t even know you could do that. I mean, I know you’re a Herbology genius, but I didn’t know that was possible.”
Neville smiled, warm the way he only was when Harry was looking at him. Then he said, “Keep the pot with you in your pockets or bag. It’s charmed not to tip over or spill any of the soil. And it’ll defend you from anything that puts you in danger.”
“Like Sirius Black.”
Harry’s voice was subdued, and he was still looking down at the pot in his hands. Neville nodded. “Or Slytherin’s monster, if it comes back.” That was a mystery they had never solved, last year. Obviously it was connected to the diary Harry had given to Professor Dumbledore somehow, but he’d never said anything about it, and Harry had never seen it again.
“Yeah.” Neville smiled and tugged on one of the leaves. The Devil’s Snare extended a tendril to loop around his finger. “It still can’t resist fire very well, but it’s better with light. It won’t shrink if it has to defend you during the day.”
Harry set the pot down carefully on the ground and then abruptly flung himself at Neville in a hug. Neville grabbed him with a gasp and then blinked as he tilted back and landed in the leaf litter on the forest floor, staring up at Harry.
Harry smiled down at him, the first open smile Neville had seen him give all year. “Thanks, Neville,” he whispered. “I promise I’m not going to run off and confront Black or anything, but I was worried about what might happen when he came after me. Now I don’t have to be as worried.” He hugged Neville from his position seated on Neville’s legs. “Thank you.”
Neville hugged Harry back, feeling dazed. This closeness, this warmth, with Harry sitting on his chest and the heat of the sun practically beaming down onto Neville’s heart—
He wanted to remember it forever.
*
Well, Harry thought, his heart pounding crazily as he stared at Sirius Black, that at least explains why he kept breaking into Gryffindor instead of coming to Ravenclaw Tower to get me.
Ron Weasley sat on the bed in the Shrieking Shack, his face pale and his gaze fixed on the man who had just transformed from a rat. Although they’d drifted apart from when they’d sat together on the train and Ron had been one of the people sometimes making fun of Neville, Harry felt a stab of sympathy for him. It couldn’t be easy to know that a Death Eater Animagus had been sleeping right next to you for three years.
Black was ranting and raving about the real traitor, and Remus Lupin had burst into the Shack and taken Harry’s and Neville’s wands. Harry traded a glance with Neville. Although he looked pale and sick, Neville seemed to understand what Harry meant by inching his hand towards his robe pocket, and gave him a determined nod.
Harry tugged out the little Devil’s Snare and held it high. “Bind them!” he cried.
Black and Lupin had only started to turn towards Harry when the tendrils shot out much further than the pot. The Devil’s Snare had grown and grown, but Harry and Neville had looked up the spells that would establish a bit of wizardspace inside the pot and make it possible for it to stay there and not reveal how big it was to anyone else. Now Harry watched in satisfaction as the Snare bound Black and Lupin and Pettigrew, all of them, and swathed Pettigrew in particular so hard that he wouldn’t be able to break free even if he did have a wand.
In the silence, Harry strode up to Lupin and took their wands from him. Lupin gave him a pained smile. Harry sighed and ignored him. He’d figured out partway through the year that Lupin was a werewolf, but when he’d gone to Headmaster Dumbledore, the Headmaster had just smiled and told Harry he was aware and that it was okay. But Harry hadn’t liked the thought of the man keeping secrets and had avoided the private invitations to tea that he’d scattered throughout the year.
“We are going to go back to the castle,” Harry said firmly. “Neville and I will take Lupin and Pettigrew first, then come back for you and Black, Ron.” Ron nodded, still silent, his freckles standing out against his pale face. At a soft command from Harry, the tendrils that bound Black extended until Harry could cut them with a Severing Charm and still leave them firmly wrapped around the man. “And then we will figure out what is going on.”
He shot a severe frown at Black, who just looked back at him with a hopeful expression. “All right,” he whispered. “Justice, Harry. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Harry smiled at him, hesitant, but thinking that he probably could get to like Black if he had the chance. “Thanks, Mr. Black.”
(It turned out that Devil’s Snare tendrils were strong enough to restrain a werewolf who hadn’t taken his potion and tried to go crazy on them. Harry got Pettigrew and Lupin into Hogwarts and summoned Professor Dumbledore, who could cast a Patronus and go retrieve Black and Ron. And then began the long, long process of convincing the Ministry that Pettigrew was alive and Black was innocent.
And throughout it all, Neville was at Harry’s side, always ready with a hand on his shoulder when things got too difficult).
IV. Grim
“Harry Potter!”
Neville turned with the rest of the Great Hall to stare at the Ravenclaw table. Harry was sitting up, his mouth forming a circle of protest, but it was clear from the stares and jeering overwhelming whatever he would have said that the majority of the people didn’t believe him.
“Of course he put his name in,” Ron muttered. Since last year, when Harry had saved his life, Ron had been nicer to Neville, but Neville could see all that resolve to be better rushing away like blood from a wound now. He glared at Harry. “Just couldn’t stand it that he’s not as popular as he thought he would be—little Ravenclaw genius had to figure out a way to trick the Goblet—”
“That’s not true!” Neville said hotly, but his words were lost in Hermione’s words. She was explaining how someone who might have survived the Killing Curse might be able to trick the Age Line, too, even one cast by someone as powerful as Professor Dumbledore.
Heart-sick, Neville watched Harry get up and plod into the small anteroom off the Great Hall that the other Champions had already vanished into, and slipped away from the Gryffindor table. He wasn’t sure how long they would keep Harry there, questioning him about how he had “cheated.” Neville needed to send an owl to Sirius Black, who had been exonerated and become Harry’s guardian, right away.
*
Harry slipped the Invisibility Cloak into the pocket of his robe and nodded with a small swallow. “I think that’s everything.”
The huge black dog standing at his side looked up at him with solemn eyes. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re sure you can do this?”
Padfoot whuffled and looked as though Harry had done him an injury by doubting him. Harry gave him a small smile and reached out to lay his hand on the big dog’s ruff. “All right. Take us through.”
Padfoot moved forwards at an easy trot. The wall in front of them faded away, and Harry found himself stepping from Ravenclaw Tower into a glittering diamond corridor that was walled with slanted triangles of pure light.
Harry shuddered at the intense cold that tingled along his skin and made his breath form a cloud in front of him, but he kept walking. Padfoot led him on and on, slipping between molecules in a way Harry didn’t understand, slipping between the realms of life and death.
Harry had been beyond stunned when Sirius had admitted that his Animagus form did have some traits of a Grim, although he couldn’t cause death to people who saw him. He could, however, “walk with Death,” which meant he didn’t have to cross intervening spaces if he didn’t want to. It was one way that he had managed to slip into the school even with wards up and most of the professors watching secret passages.
Now, Harry walked with him past still grey lakes and what looked like colorless blueprints of mountains, and then through the wall of Gryffindor Tower. Together, they ghosted up the stairs until they reached the bedroom where the fourth-year boys slept.
Harry sighed as they settled back into the regular world, and Padfoot transformed soundlessly into Sirius. “Can you cast a spell that will keep the others asleep and unable to hear anything?” he whispered.
Sirius stepped back and did it, the spell spreading out in a circle around Neville’s bed. Harry walked over and reached out, moving the curtains back so he could see his friend.
Neville was sitting up with his wand pointed at Harry. Harry could feel the smile making its way across his face. He and Neville had started training in Defense during first year, shortly after they’d committed to improving their marks in Potions, and kept it up even last year when Professor Lupin was an all right professor. “Hi, Nev.”
“Harry.” Neville leaned forwards and hugged Harry urgently. He’d been willing to stand by Harry’s side in public and defend him from accusations that he’d put his name in the Goblet of Fire, but the other Gryffindors would have tormented him for it, so Harry had asked him to stay at a distance. They hadn’t been this close in a fortnight. Harry closed his eyes and soaked in his friend’s warmth. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to say goodbye,” Harry said quietly.
Neville’s whole body slumped. “But…”
“They changed the rules for this year, when they said that only of-age students could compete.” Harry sat down on the edge of Neville’s bed, while Neville clutched his hand as if Harry would vanish any second. “Before that, younger students could compete, but they all had to have their parents’ or guardians’ signatures on the parchments they put in the Goblet. Sirius didn’t sign mine. I’m not bound.”
Neville choked a little. “Why did no one think of that?”
“Because they think that I put it in.” Harry ground his teeth. “And they think that I wanted to compete, so I would have included Sirius’s signature along with my name.”
“But Moody…”
Harry shook his head. He didn’t trust Moody. Sirius said that the man’s scent wasn’t right, and Harry had learned to trust Sirius’s nose. “I don’t know why he said he believes me. But Professor Dumbledore believed me. He thinks it’s Voldemort, like we do.” After three years of hearing that name, Neville no longer flinched. “But he and Sirius disagree about what to do. Sirius wants me out of here. Professor Dumbledore wants to let it play out so that we can find out who put my name in and foil whatever plan Voldemort has. I—I can’t do that, Neville. They would want me to fight dragons. I found out yesterday.”
Neville went pale and sick-looking, and held onto Harry’s hand all the harder. Harry clutched at his friend’s wrist. “So you’re going into hiding? Or out of the country?”
“Into hiding,” Harry said quietly. “Sirius has houses under all kinds of wards, and he’s willing to buy a new one that no one knows about. I’m afraid that I can’t visit you by Floo because of that. But we can still owl each other.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Neville wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I mean, if someone sees me getting owls…”
“They won’t be able to follow them,” Sirius said quietly. He had his back turned to give them the illusion of privacy, but Harry had known he would be listening. From his start, Neville hadn’t. “I’ll put all the precautions against that that anyone could want. But you’ll always be welcome, Neville, even if we have to meet you someplace else and take you through the Floo with Muffling Charms on your ears.”
Neville swallowed and wiped away tears gleaming on his cheeks this time. “Of course.”
“One more thing,” Harry murmured. “Sirius told me. If Professor Dumbledore asks to talk to you, don’t look him directly in the eye. He’s a Legilimens, and he can read your mind.”
Neville looked horrified for a long minute before his face tightened. “Of course,” he repeated.
And then he hugged Harry, and Harry held on as long as he dared, letting himself soak in the warmth Neville alone always seemed to put out, rivaling a fire. Sirius finally cleared his throat, and Harry sat back with a sigh and a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, Neville. I can’t stay any longer.”
“Okay,” Neville said, and tried to smile. “We’ll make it somehow, Harry. I’ll see you again?”
His voice warbled up uncertainly at the end of the sentence. Harry leaned forwards and held his eyes. “You can count on it, Neville.”
And then it was time to reach out and catch hold of Sirius’s ruff as he transformed back into Padfoot, and wave goodbye to Neville, and walk through the wall into the realm of Death, in the direction of freedom.
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Rating: PG-13
Content Notes: AU, Ravenclaw Harry, angst, canonical child abuse, canonical torture
Pairings: Harry/Neville, background mentions of canon pairings
Wordcount:
Summary: Neville hadn’t had many people in his life who took the time to understand him. Harry Potter, even if he was in Ravenclaw for some weird reason, was one of the few that did. And, in return, Neville would give his all back to him, and change the course of fate.
Author’s Notes: This is one of my “Songs of Summer” fics, one-shots being posted between the summer solstice and the first of August. This is for a prompt by ssam_raven, about Harry in Ravenclaw, bonding with forest creatures and possibly dating Neville. I have tweaked the prompt a bit as Voldemort is alive in this one, which he was not in the original prompt. Hope you enjoy. This will have a second chapter to be posted tomorrow as it got much longer than I anticipated.
Of Thestrals and Roses
I. Roses
Neville found Harry Potter sitting in the middle of a circle of black roses near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Neville hesitated, the container of special crushed mealworms in his hand suddenly heavy. Black roses especially liked the mealworm fertilizer; they’d grow tall and heavy with it. Neville had only read about black roses and never seen any before he came to Hogwarts, and the first few months at Hogwarts had been so overwhelming that he’d taken to sneaking off into the Forest to feed them.
But now Harry Potter was there, with his roses. Harry Potter, who had Sorted into Ravenclaw, not Gryffindor, the way everyone had expected, and who was a lot quieter than most people thought a hero should be.
Neville took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. The black roses needed food. They were fairly hardy plants, but once they got started on a certain sort of fertilizer, all the books Neville had read said they needed to keep being on it. He strode towards the patch of roses.
When he came nearer, he could hear Potter speaking in a soft voice. He was reading from a book, Neville realized with a start. When he came nearer, he could hear that it was “The Tale of the Three Brothers.”
“And Death said…” Potter looked up and caught his eye. He started. Then he blushed, tucking the book away. “Um, hello.”
Somehow, the way Potter blushed and avoided Neville’s eyes reminded Neville of the way that he acted himself in Potions. He tried to give Potter a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t more of a grimace. He sat down on the outer side of the roses and uncapped the little metal container he was carrying. “Hello.”
“What’s that?” Potter asked.
“Special food for the roses,” Neville said, and began to sprinkle it along the edges of the rose patch, burying it with small pats of his hands. He didn’t look at Potter. “They like it.”
“Oh.”
Potter didn’t say anything more than that, and he certainly didn’t move away or try to make fun of Neville for feeding the roses. He lingered, watching, and only spoke again when Neville had made his way all around the circle. “What is it? Why do they like it so much?”
Neville expected to see mockery in Potter’s eyes when he looked up, but there was nothing of the kind. Instead, something gleamed there that Neville supposed was Ravenclaw curiosity. He smiled back. “Crushed mealworms. Black roses are supposed to be closer to death than other flowers. They need something that was recently alive.”
“Really?”
Potter leaned forwards, and it didn’t take long before Neville found himself chattering away as if he and Potter had been friends all his life. He hoped he was doing it right. He’d never had a friend before.
*
“Sorry I’m late,” Harry gasped, dropping down next to Neville in their special spot. The black roses had gone dormant when winter came, so they’d started meeting on the edge of the lake, in an isolated bend of the bank where they weren’t visible from the pitch or the castle. “Nev, what’s wrong?”
He’d just registered that Neville’s head was drooping and his hand was clamped on his arm in the way he had when he was nervous. Harry scooted closer to Neville and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. Neville leaned on him.
They were each other’s only friends. Neville was shunned by other people in his House for reasons Harry didn’t really understand. He thought it was plenty brave to keep walking around day after day when people teased you and made fun of you. Harry should know.
And everyone kept expecting things of Harry that he didn’t know how to fulfill. First they’d expected him to be a Gryffindor. Then they’d thought he would get the top marks in every class and be a genius. (That was impossible with both Quirrell and Snape as teachers). Then they’d thought he would have a kind word for everybody. Harry didn’t have any kind words for people who bullied Neville or asked him probing questions about his “family.”
“Snape,” Neville finally whispered, leaning more heavily on Harry’s shoulder. “He—he said I was a hopeless wizard and I should just…give up and go home…” His voice trailed off.
Harry took a long breath, because if he exploded, that wouldn’t help anybody. “We’re going to get you better in Potions, Neville.”
Neville shook his head miserably. “Nothing can help. I get so nervous when Snape’s around that I can’t do the potion right no matter what’s in it.”
“We’re going to work on that,” Harry said. “And we’ll practice Cheering Charms, and you can cast them on yourself before you go into class, okay?”
“They don’t last long enough.”
“We’ll get them to.” Harry squeezed Neville’s shoulder again and sat back. “Come on. We have to start practicing.”
Neville looked up at him with watery eyes, but smiled a little when Harry kept eyeing him determinedly. “Do you think you can get better in Potions, too?”
“If you find an Anti-Hate Charm, let me know,” Harry said wryly, and smiled at the sound of Neville’s laughter.
II. Thestrals
Neville had expected to find Harry in the Forbidden Forest, but not feeding scraps of meat to something invisible.
Neville stood quietly off to the side for a bit and watched. Harry was stroking the neck of something invisible, too, something far enough above him that Neville was reminded of Ivory, Gran’s evil-tempered old Granian. Harry paused, seeming to listen, and then held out another scrap of meat.
Neville coughed softly to alert Harry that he was there. Harry turned around and smiled at him. “Hi, Nev.”
“What are you doing, Harry?”
“You know how I told you that I did see Quirrell die last year, even though Professor Dumbledore tried to keep me from seeing it?”
Neville nodded fervently. He had gone down with Harry into the trap maze that protected the Stone, although at the time they had thought it was Snape who was stealing it. He had been able to help with the Devil’s Snare and reason out that some of the potions in Snape’s trap smelled like nettle wine and couldn’t be the real potion, but otherwise, he had felt pretty useless while Harry fetched the right key to unlock the enchanted door and then flew Neville on that broom over the too-complicated chess game and the unconscious troll. At least who had let the troll into the school last Halloween had made some more sense when Harry confronted Quirrell. It was a miracle that Snape had found it before it hurt anyone.
“Well, it turned out that you can see thestrals when you’ve seen someone die.” Harry offered another scrap of meat, which was snapped up by invisible teeth. “I actually saw them pulling the carriages when we came back, but I didn’t want to say anything then.”
Neville could guess why. Harry had been stuck in a carriage with Michael Corner and Stephen Cornfoot, his Ravenclaw roommates. They weren’t enemies, but they weren’t exactly friends, either. Harry was too quiet for them.
“There’s a big herd in the forest,” Harry said, eyes still fixed on something Neville couldn’t see. “Hagrid tends them, but he has so many other responsibilities they don’t get to see him often. So I’m feeding them.”
“Oh.” Neville came forwards and forced himself to stand there instead of running away yelling, the way he wanted to. “Can I help?”
Harry gaped at him. Neville folded his arms. Yes, Harry knew that Neville was afraid of a lot of things, and he tried to go out of his way to make sure that Neville wouldn’t have to be scared all the time. But it didn’t mean Neville was going to run every time something scared him.
Then Harry’s smile lit up his face. “Of course,” he said, and held out the bucket of meat scraps. “I know you can’t see them, but you can toss it into the air, and they’ll catch it.”
Neville held his breath a little as he dug his hand into the bucket of scraps, but while they were a bit slimy, they weren’t smelly. Then he tossed the meat up and watched it vanish. For a second, he thought he caught a glimpse of teeth flashing, and a tail swishing. Then he shook his head, and it disappeared.
“Thanks, Nev,” Harry said softly after a few more minutes of feeding.
Neville punched him lightly in the shoulder. “What are friends for?”
*
Harry took a deep breath before he removed Tom Riddle’s diary from his robe pocket and dumped it on the ground in front of Elsa, the lead thestral mare.
She promptly laid her ears back and took a long step away from the diary. Her nostrils flared, and she showed him the edges of her teeth.
Harry nodded. The diary wasn’t just a thing with Dark magic or the magic of death, both of which thestrals could sense and weren’t bothered by. It was worse than that. The diary had probably been writing to some other student who’d had it before Harry found it, corrupting them.
Harry tucked the diary away. He would take it to Professor Dumbledore as soon as possible.
“Harry?”
Harry whipped around. Neville was walking towards him, head bowed and hands stuffed in his robe pockets. He’d gone home for the Easter holiday, of course, while Harry had stayed here, and they hadn’t had a chance to speak since he got back. “Nev?”
Neville looked up. His face was pale and streaked with tears. And he looked straight at Elsa and saw her.
“Oh, Nev,” Harry said, reaching out to pull him closer. “Who was it?”
“My grandfather,” Neville whispered, leaning against him. “He and my Gran h-have lived apart f-from each other for a long time b-because they didn’t get along. But he was v-visiting this holiday and w-wanted to get to know me better. And then he had a heart attack and just f-fell over.”
Harry hugged Neville closer still. Sure, he’d seen death since last year, but he would never have wanted Neville to see thestrals if he could help it. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Neville’s shoulders shook for a little while. Then he looked up and let his eyes clearly trace the shape of Elsa’s wings while she ate some of the jerky Harry had got from the house-elves and scattered on the ground earlier. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered.
Harry hugged him harder, and they stood there for long moments in silence, the only two humans who would understand.
III. Devil’s Snare
Neville clutched the sides of the pot and waited until Harry looked up from his intense study of a Defense book that wasn’t one they’d been assigned for Professor Lupin’s class. It was only the two of them in the cool depths of the Forbidden Forest, as usual. Harry straightened, pushed his glasses up his nose, and blinked at Neville. “Hi?”
“Hi.” Neville sat down and held the pot out towards Harry. Harry took it with a proper caution that at least showed he’d recognized the plant inside it. “What’s this?” he still asked.
“Devil’s Snare.” Neville took a long breath. “I’ve been working with cuttings in my Gran’s garden for years now. I’ve trained this one to recognize me and do what I tell it. And I told it to protect you.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Wow. I didn’t even know you could do that. I mean, I know you’re a Herbology genius, but I didn’t know that was possible.”
Neville smiled, warm the way he only was when Harry was looking at him. Then he said, “Keep the pot with you in your pockets or bag. It’s charmed not to tip over or spill any of the soil. And it’ll defend you from anything that puts you in danger.”
“Like Sirius Black.”
Harry’s voice was subdued, and he was still looking down at the pot in his hands. Neville nodded. “Or Slytherin’s monster, if it comes back.” That was a mystery they had never solved, last year. Obviously it was connected to the diary Harry had given to Professor Dumbledore somehow, but he’d never said anything about it, and Harry had never seen it again.
“Yeah.” Neville smiled and tugged on one of the leaves. The Devil’s Snare extended a tendril to loop around his finger. “It still can’t resist fire very well, but it’s better with light. It won’t shrink if it has to defend you during the day.”
Harry set the pot down carefully on the ground and then abruptly flung himself at Neville in a hug. Neville grabbed him with a gasp and then blinked as he tilted back and landed in the leaf litter on the forest floor, staring up at Harry.
Harry smiled down at him, the first open smile Neville had seen him give all year. “Thanks, Neville,” he whispered. “I promise I’m not going to run off and confront Black or anything, but I was worried about what might happen when he came after me. Now I don’t have to be as worried.” He hugged Neville from his position seated on Neville’s legs. “Thank you.”
Neville hugged Harry back, feeling dazed. This closeness, this warmth, with Harry sitting on his chest and the heat of the sun practically beaming down onto Neville’s heart—
He wanted to remember it forever.
*
Well, Harry thought, his heart pounding crazily as he stared at Sirius Black, that at least explains why he kept breaking into Gryffindor instead of coming to Ravenclaw Tower to get me.
Ron Weasley sat on the bed in the Shrieking Shack, his face pale and his gaze fixed on the man who had just transformed from a rat. Although they’d drifted apart from when they’d sat together on the train and Ron had been one of the people sometimes making fun of Neville, Harry felt a stab of sympathy for him. It couldn’t be easy to know that a Death Eater Animagus had been sleeping right next to you for three years.
Black was ranting and raving about the real traitor, and Remus Lupin had burst into the Shack and taken Harry’s and Neville’s wands. Harry traded a glance with Neville. Although he looked pale and sick, Neville seemed to understand what Harry meant by inching his hand towards his robe pocket, and gave him a determined nod.
Harry tugged out the little Devil’s Snare and held it high. “Bind them!” he cried.
Black and Lupin had only started to turn towards Harry when the tendrils shot out much further than the pot. The Devil’s Snare had grown and grown, but Harry and Neville had looked up the spells that would establish a bit of wizardspace inside the pot and make it possible for it to stay there and not reveal how big it was to anyone else. Now Harry watched in satisfaction as the Snare bound Black and Lupin and Pettigrew, all of them, and swathed Pettigrew in particular so hard that he wouldn’t be able to break free even if he did have a wand.
In the silence, Harry strode up to Lupin and took their wands from him. Lupin gave him a pained smile. Harry sighed and ignored him. He’d figured out partway through the year that Lupin was a werewolf, but when he’d gone to Headmaster Dumbledore, the Headmaster had just smiled and told Harry he was aware and that it was okay. But Harry hadn’t liked the thought of the man keeping secrets and had avoided the private invitations to tea that he’d scattered throughout the year.
“We are going to go back to the castle,” Harry said firmly. “Neville and I will take Lupin and Pettigrew first, then come back for you and Black, Ron.” Ron nodded, still silent, his freckles standing out against his pale face. At a soft command from Harry, the tendrils that bound Black extended until Harry could cut them with a Severing Charm and still leave them firmly wrapped around the man. “And then we will figure out what is going on.”
He shot a severe frown at Black, who just looked back at him with a hopeful expression. “All right,” he whispered. “Justice, Harry. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Harry smiled at him, hesitant, but thinking that he probably could get to like Black if he had the chance. “Thanks, Mr. Black.”
(It turned out that Devil’s Snare tendrils were strong enough to restrain a werewolf who hadn’t taken his potion and tried to go crazy on them. Harry got Pettigrew and Lupin into Hogwarts and summoned Professor Dumbledore, who could cast a Patronus and go retrieve Black and Ron. And then began the long, long process of convincing the Ministry that Pettigrew was alive and Black was innocent.
And throughout it all, Neville was at Harry’s side, always ready with a hand on his shoulder when things got too difficult).
IV. Grim
“Harry Potter!”
Neville turned with the rest of the Great Hall to stare at the Ravenclaw table. Harry was sitting up, his mouth forming a circle of protest, but it was clear from the stares and jeering overwhelming whatever he would have said that the majority of the people didn’t believe him.
“Of course he put his name in,” Ron muttered. Since last year, when Harry had saved his life, Ron had been nicer to Neville, but Neville could see all that resolve to be better rushing away like blood from a wound now. He glared at Harry. “Just couldn’t stand it that he’s not as popular as he thought he would be—little Ravenclaw genius had to figure out a way to trick the Goblet—”
“That’s not true!” Neville said hotly, but his words were lost in Hermione’s words. She was explaining how someone who might have survived the Killing Curse might be able to trick the Age Line, too, even one cast by someone as powerful as Professor Dumbledore.
Heart-sick, Neville watched Harry get up and plod into the small anteroom off the Great Hall that the other Champions had already vanished into, and slipped away from the Gryffindor table. He wasn’t sure how long they would keep Harry there, questioning him about how he had “cheated.” Neville needed to send an owl to Sirius Black, who had been exonerated and become Harry’s guardian, right away.
*
Harry slipped the Invisibility Cloak into the pocket of his robe and nodded with a small swallow. “I think that’s everything.”
The huge black dog standing at his side looked up at him with solemn eyes. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re sure you can do this?”
Padfoot whuffled and looked as though Harry had done him an injury by doubting him. Harry gave him a small smile and reached out to lay his hand on the big dog’s ruff. “All right. Take us through.”
Padfoot moved forwards at an easy trot. The wall in front of them faded away, and Harry found himself stepping from Ravenclaw Tower into a glittering diamond corridor that was walled with slanted triangles of pure light.
Harry shuddered at the intense cold that tingled along his skin and made his breath form a cloud in front of him, but he kept walking. Padfoot led him on and on, slipping between molecules in a way Harry didn’t understand, slipping between the realms of life and death.
Harry had been beyond stunned when Sirius had admitted that his Animagus form did have some traits of a Grim, although he couldn’t cause death to people who saw him. He could, however, “walk with Death,” which meant he didn’t have to cross intervening spaces if he didn’t want to. It was one way that he had managed to slip into the school even with wards up and most of the professors watching secret passages.
Now, Harry walked with him past still grey lakes and what looked like colorless blueprints of mountains, and then through the wall of Gryffindor Tower. Together, they ghosted up the stairs until they reached the bedroom where the fourth-year boys slept.
Harry sighed as they settled back into the regular world, and Padfoot transformed soundlessly into Sirius. “Can you cast a spell that will keep the others asleep and unable to hear anything?” he whispered.
Sirius stepped back and did it, the spell spreading out in a circle around Neville’s bed. Harry walked over and reached out, moving the curtains back so he could see his friend.
Neville was sitting up with his wand pointed at Harry. Harry could feel the smile making its way across his face. He and Neville had started training in Defense during first year, shortly after they’d committed to improving their marks in Potions, and kept it up even last year when Professor Lupin was an all right professor. “Hi, Nev.”
“Harry.” Neville leaned forwards and hugged Harry urgently. He’d been willing to stand by Harry’s side in public and defend him from accusations that he’d put his name in the Goblet of Fire, but the other Gryffindors would have tormented him for it, so Harry had asked him to stay at a distance. They hadn’t been this close in a fortnight. Harry closed his eyes and soaked in his friend’s warmth. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to say goodbye,” Harry said quietly.
Neville’s whole body slumped. “But…”
“They changed the rules for this year, when they said that only of-age students could compete.” Harry sat down on the edge of Neville’s bed, while Neville clutched his hand as if Harry would vanish any second. “Before that, younger students could compete, but they all had to have their parents’ or guardians’ signatures on the parchments they put in the Goblet. Sirius didn’t sign mine. I’m not bound.”
Neville choked a little. “Why did no one think of that?”
“Because they think that I put it in.” Harry ground his teeth. “And they think that I wanted to compete, so I would have included Sirius’s signature along with my name.”
“But Moody…”
Harry shook his head. He didn’t trust Moody. Sirius said that the man’s scent wasn’t right, and Harry had learned to trust Sirius’s nose. “I don’t know why he said he believes me. But Professor Dumbledore believed me. He thinks it’s Voldemort, like we do.” After three years of hearing that name, Neville no longer flinched. “But he and Sirius disagree about what to do. Sirius wants me out of here. Professor Dumbledore wants to let it play out so that we can find out who put my name in and foil whatever plan Voldemort has. I—I can’t do that, Neville. They would want me to fight dragons. I found out yesterday.”
Neville went pale and sick-looking, and held onto Harry’s hand all the harder. Harry clutched at his friend’s wrist. “So you’re going into hiding? Or out of the country?”
“Into hiding,” Harry said quietly. “Sirius has houses under all kinds of wards, and he’s willing to buy a new one that no one knows about. I’m afraid that I can’t visit you by Floo because of that. But we can still owl each other.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Neville wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I mean, if someone sees me getting owls…”
“They won’t be able to follow them,” Sirius said quietly. He had his back turned to give them the illusion of privacy, but Harry had known he would be listening. From his start, Neville hadn’t. “I’ll put all the precautions against that that anyone could want. But you’ll always be welcome, Neville, even if we have to meet you someplace else and take you through the Floo with Muffling Charms on your ears.”
Neville swallowed and wiped away tears gleaming on his cheeks this time. “Of course.”
“One more thing,” Harry murmured. “Sirius told me. If Professor Dumbledore asks to talk to you, don’t look him directly in the eye. He’s a Legilimens, and he can read your mind.”
Neville looked horrified for a long minute before his face tightened. “Of course,” he repeated.
And then he hugged Harry, and Harry held on as long as he dared, letting himself soak in the warmth Neville alone always seemed to put out, rivaling a fire. Sirius finally cleared his throat, and Harry sat back with a sigh and a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, Neville. I can’t stay any longer.”
“Okay,” Neville said, and tried to smile. “We’ll make it somehow, Harry. I’ll see you again?”
His voice warbled up uncertainly at the end of the sentence. Harry leaned forwards and held his eyes. “You can count on it, Neville.”
And then it was time to reach out and catch hold of Sirius’s ruff as he transformed back into Padfoot, and wave goodbye to Neville, and walk through the wall into the realm of Death, in the direction of freedom.
