lomonaaeren

Thank you again for all the reviews! This is the second and last part.

V. Belladonna

Neville wrapped an arm around Luna’s shoulders and rocked her a little as she cried. “She’s horrible,” Luna whispered as she stared at the bleeding words on the back of her hand. I will not say that I believe in imaginary creatures. “She’s horrible.”

“I know,” Neville said, and rocked her some more. They were in the Room of Requirement that the Hogwarts house-elves had shown them. No one else would see or mock them.

He had met Luna near the end of last year, when she’d marched up to him and told him that something was off about Professor Moody. Well, the way she’d phrased it was “He’s surrounded by too many Nargles for it to be natural,” but Neville had taken her seriously mostly because she was the only person he’d heard be suspicious of Moody other than Harry.

And then it had turned out that Moody was Barty Crouch, Jr., one of the people who had tortured Neville’s parents, and he’d been Kissed by a Dementor while Neville was still grappling with that information. He’d tried to kidnap Neville and take him—somewhere. Given all the muttering about his “Lord,” Neville had a sick feeling that he knew where they would have gone.

The Ministry had decided to take an official stance that Crouch hadn’t really been alive or escaped Azkaban and Voldemort wasn’t out there, although Dumbledore had announced both facts loudly at the Leaving Feast last term. And because he’d gone on saying it, the Ministry had sent a spy to Hogwarts.

Dolores Umbridge. Neville hated only Crouch and the Lestranges more.

Luna wiped tears away and looked up, focusing on a portrait that had appeared on the far wall. “Oh, Harry’s coming,” she said.

Neville turned around and stood up with a smile. They had communicated through a mirror Harry had owled him last year, and apparently Sirius knew the old wizard who ran the Hog’s Head, Aberforth Dumbledore. They’d arranged a private way for Harry to get to Hogwarts that had something to do with a portrait on the other end, and always came out of a portrait of a wizard drunk on Firewhisky on this end.

Harry stepped out as the portrait swung wide and took in Luna’s tearstained face. “Right,” he said. “We’re going to do something about her.” He came over to hug Luna, but his gaze remained on Neville.

Neville watched him back, his heart swelling. He and Harry had visited each other numerous times last year and over the summer, always with Neville either Flooing to the Leaky Cauldron and meeting Sirius there, or coming to this room and meeting Harry here..

Being away from Hogwarts had honestly been good for Harry, as much as Neville had missed him. Sirius had hired all sorts of tutors, hauled Harry all sorts of places, dumped all sorts of books in front of him, and taught him things that Sirius had known before his imprisonment. Neville could see how much more relaxed Harry was, how confident, and the way he dueled when he and Neville got together reflected his increasing knowledge, too.

Neville also knew some uncomfortable things about himself. The amount of time he’d spent thinking about Harry, and the way that he compared himself to Harry all the time, and the way that he kept studying ahead in Potions and Defense because it would make Harry proud, and the way he’d stood up for outcasts like Luna because that’s what Harry would do…

Yes, friendship could explain it, especially when Neville still only had one friend at Hogwarts. But being in love with Harry would explain it pretty well, too.

Neville shook that thought away as Harry focused on him. “How much do you know about belladonna, Neville?”

“A lot,” Neville said, and allowed a touch of asperity to enter his voice. Harry grinned. Neville sighed and studied Harry. He would have a reason for asking this, of course. He wouldn’t just assume that Neville knew nothing about plants, or ask a question for a random reason. “Why?”

“Because I think that we need to poison Umbridge and get her out of the way,” Harry said coolly. “And while belladonna poisoning itself would be too noticeable, there’s a potion that has belladonna as the main ingredient which wouldn’t.”

“Since when did you know how to brew the Dementia Draught?” Neville whispered.

“I’m glad that you’ve kept up your Potions knowledge,” Harry said.

“But everyone would look at her and know,” said Luna.

Neville squeezed one arm around Luna’s shoulder. “No, they wouldn’t,” he said. “Not if we were clever about administering it. And I’m sure Harry’s come up with a way to do that.”

He glanced up in time to surprise a strange expression on Harry’s face. Neville blinked. It almost looked as if Harry were jealous, which made no sense. He was Neville’s friend, sure, but Neville had nothing that he needed to be jealous of.

Harry shook it away and gave Neville a grin with only a hint of strain. “Yeah. I have a house-elf ally named Dobby. He showed up before my second year to warn me of strange happenings in the school. I think those were probably connected to the diary and Slytherin’s monster. He showed up again after I gave the diary to Dumbledore, very upset that he couldn’t protect me, and I managed to figure out who his master was and sent him a dirty, disgusting sock that he tossed at Dobby.”

“Which freed him,” Neville finished, with a grin of his own. He knew the story, of course, but he loved the ending, and Luna’s eyes were wide with fascination. “He could put the Dementia Draught in Umbridge’s food?”

“Yeah, food would be better than drinks,” Harry said, and grinned darkly. “It would take longer to affect her and would look more like a natural decline.”

“Are you going to kill her?” Neville asked softly. He knew from some of the curses Sirius had been teaching Harry that killing was an option not off the table for some of their enemies. On the other hand, Umbridge was more Neville and Luna’s enemy than she was Harry’s.

Harry looked at him and shook his head slowly. “No. We just need her to become so awfully incompetent that the Ministry can’t justify keeping her here. We can let her recover once she’s away from the school and stop dosing her.”

“But the Nargles would still be there,” Luna said.

“We can’t do anything about most people’s Nargles. And even they have to have a natural habitat somewhere,” Neville said.

“That’s true.”

Neville focused on Harry again. “You do know that if she takes a certain amount of the Dementia Draught, its effects are permanent, even if they don’t get any worse once she’s away from the school?”

“Oops,” Harry said, his eyes wide.

Neville bowed his head and laughed in spite of himself. And when he looked up, the smile Harry had waiting for him was the deepest and richest he’d ever showed, and something in Neville’s stomach calmed.

“I can get the belladonna,” Neville said.

Harry nodded. “I can brew the potion.”

“I can distract the Nargles,” said Luna solemnly.

Neville nodded to her, and Harry came over to rest his hand on Neville’s shoulder for a second. Neville swallowed, stared into his eyes, and wished for a second that he had the courage the Hat had seen in him to put him into Gryffindor.

But although he had the courage to befriend outcasts, give Harry his very own Devil’s Snare, sneak off to visit his best friend, and plot to poison a professor, he didn’t have the kind that would let him confess to his best friend that he liked him yet. He looked away.

*

Harry laughed in delight as Neville stepped out of the Floo into Padfoot’s Premises—the house Sirius had bought after saying that no one should stay in the house where he’d grown up—and Harry removed the Muffling Charms on Neville’s ears. “You saw the newspaper this morning?”

“Yes!” Neville was grinning like a fool. Or like himself, which, Harry thought with a sharp tug of desire in his heart, was exactly perfect and the way he should always grin. “Dolores Umbridge may recover if she undergoes sessions with specialized Mind-Healers in St. Mungo’s. May.”

“And we did that,” Harry said. “All of us.” He smiled as Luna hopped out of the Floo after Neville. She had asked to be blindfolded as well as Muffled, for the experience, and looked around as though she could see through the blindfold. Harry drew her away from the Floo and performed the right charms on her ears as Sirius popped through the flames behind her. “Thanks for distracting Umbridge’s Nargles, Luna.”

“They didn’t need much distracting,” Luna said, and then frowned at him and Neville. “You have some.”

“Oh?” Harry blinked.

Luna nodded and took out a small blue candle from one robe pocket. From what Neville had said, she was always carrying something of that sort around, although she hadn’t shown it the one time she’d visited Padfoot’s Premises before. “Yes,” she said, and pulled out a red string, which she wrapped around the candle. “Excuse me. I’m going to smoke them out.” She waved the candle back and forth.

“How can you do that when the cand—” Sirius began.

Harry drove his elbow into Sirius’s ribs, and his godfather grunted and gave him an injured look. Harry shook his head at him and faced Neville again, his heart skittering around between his ribs.

He surprised a longing expression on Neville’s face, and suddenly Harry thought he might know what Nargles Luna was talking about.

He reached out and took Neville’s hand, tugging on it. When he was looking at him, Harry did his best to smile at Neville the way he’d wanted to for the last few months and run his eyes up and down Neville’s body.

Was this how you did it? It wasn’t like how Harry had really had an example, outside of the times Sirius had flirted outrageously with some wizard or witch on their travels, or the fainter memories of the older Ravenclaws flirting.

Neville’s mouth fell open a little, and he flushed bright red. But he didn’t pull his hand away from Harry’s, and his eyes were suddenly intent and focused on him.

I think this is a good start, Harry thought happily, while Luna capered around them, waving her unlit candle and humming.

VI. Basilisk.

“And this year, I have a special announcement,” Professor Dumbledore said, and smiled. Neville eyed his blackened right hand and wondered what he had been doing. “Mr. Harry Potter will be returning to the school!”

From the tone of his voice, Neville thought Professor Dumbledore might have expected cheers and applause. But, in fact, few people had known or liked Harry when he was there, and only mutters ran around the room when Harry stepped through the doors of the Great Hall.

Harry, luckily, didn’t seem to care. He nodded to Neville with a smile and a long look that made Neville flush as he remembered some of the things they’d got up to this summer, and then walked over and stared at the people sitting next to Luna at the Ravenclaw table until they moved aside for him. Harry sat down.

“Professor,” called a voice down the Gryffindor table that sounded like Hermione Granger’s. “Can a student just leave school and rejoin without taking the OWLS?”

“Mr. Potter has taken his OWLS,” Professor Dumbledore replied calmly, sitting back down. “He has been receiving private tutoring for the last few terms, but has agreed that his NEWT years should be spent in the familiar surroundings of the school.”

Neville snorted, remembering the intense debates between Harry and Sirius about that. Sirius hadn’t wanted Harry to come back at all. Even though Sirius could go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted, particularly now that he didn’t have to hide Harry being with him, he’d sulked and complained and pointed out that Harry had got Outstandings on a majority of his OWLS, so why did he need to come back? Plus people had bullied Harry when he was there, so why go to Hogwarts at all?

Harry had met Neville’s eyes during one of Sirius’s rants that Neville had been present for and mouthed, For you.

Neville had smiled at him, touched, but he wouldn’t have agreed, despite how much he’d wanted to have his boyfriend close, if he didn’t know that Harry had other reasons, too. And if he didn’t know that Harry was more than competent to handle any bullying Ravenclaws who might go after him or Luna.

Right now, it looked like seventh-year Marietta Edgecombe had made a nasty remark to Harry. He turned around and said something with a bland smile that made her cringe away from him. Several Ravenclaws gaped.

Neville smiled. He would have to ask Harry about that later.

After they met and started the hunt for the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, perhaps. They could spare a minute or two from snogging.

*

Harry paced slowly down the tunnel, shuddering at the look of the animal bones and the enormous shed skin. Neville walked sturdily at his side. Harry reached out and put a hand on his arm as they reached the huge doors carved with snakes that had emeralds for eyes. Harry had the feeling that Slytherin had had a Thing for snakes. Possibly a Thing he should have sought treatment for.

“Are you sure you want to come all the way inside?” he asked Neville softly, patting the pouch that held the locket. “You can stand guard in the corridor.”

“I’m with you, Harry. Until the end.”

It was what he had said when he had first heard of the mad plan Harry and Sirius had concocted, and Harry knew that he wouldn’t back away unless Harry forced him to, which was the last thing he wanted. He leaned forwards and kissed Neville, slow and soft, until Neville pushed him into a wall and turned it to hard and fierce. Harry was gasping when they pulled back.

“Until the end,” he repeated, something they’d said to each other lots of times this summer as the rumors of Voldemort’s spirit spread across Europe, and then turned and hissed, “Open” at the doors of the Chamber.

They slid back with a sharp snapping sound, and Harry stepped into an enormous room that was decorated, surprise, with snakes. Harry sighed and shook his head. He probably would have thought this was it if he hadn’t spoken with Tom Riddle’s diary before Professor Dumbledore had used Fiendfyre to destroy it.

He’d used Fiendfyre on the ring, too, but not before he had put it on and it had cursed him. Harry was sorry that the Headmaster wouldn’t last the year. Despite their differences over the Tournament, things had worked out well enough. Harry had been alive and free of any need to compete in the Tournament, he’d had a wonderful year and a half, and he’d done the kind of research that had proven what Voldemort had used to stay alive.

Sirius had been horrified to find out that Harry carried a Horcrux in his scar, and he had absolutely refused to let Harry try to master Fiendfyre to get rid of it. Sirius himself couldn’t do it, the curse on the ring had affected Professor Dumbledore’s magical control and meant he probably couldn’t restrain the fire if he called it up again, and Harry had tried to do it and had had nothing so much as a trickle of flame come out of his wand. Apparently that wasn’t unusual for students younger than seventeen.

Hence, the basilisk.

He glanced at Neville, and Neville nodded and bound the blindfold over his eyes, clutching his wand. He was trembling a little, but he had said “until the end” and he’d meant it.

Harry faced the statue and cast the charm he’d painstakingly studied that would give him a reptile’s membranes over his eyes. He could look at the basilisk and would see smeared and blurry colors, but it was enough to keep from being Petrified or falling dead on the spot. “Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts Four!” he hissed.

The mouth of the statue fell open, and a creature so overwhelming that Harry had trouble looking at her even with his spell came slithering out. Merlin, she was bigger than the skin in the tunnel. And she turned her head slowly back and forth as if searching the Chamber for someone else before fixing her glowing yellow eyes on Harry. They actually shed their own light.

Harry bowed. “Deadly mistress,” he hissed. He wasn’t able to get Riddle to confess exactly how he had addressed the basilisk, but knowing Voldemort, he had probably ordered her around. Harry had no intention of doing so. “I have to offer you freedom, in exchange for one of your fangs.”

The basilisk swayed slowly back and forth for a long moment before answering. “They have promised me freedom before, those Heirs who came down here,” she said, and the disdain in her voice was a crushing force. Neville staggered a stop. Harry reached out to steady him without taking his gaze from the basilisk. “How do I know that you can offer me more?”

Harry smiled. This was the part of the plan that Sirius had been enthusiastic about. “My godfather is of the Black family. They own an island infested with deadly predators. No one has been able to remove them or make use of the island since the spores that created them came there.” Apparently there was actually a Predator Bush, long extinct in Britain, whose seeds had landed on the island and which would spawn tigers, lions, leopards, bears, and every other kind of predator in the world from its pods as long as it grew. Neville had almost swooned when Harry told him about it. “Most of them eat each other. You would have free run of this island. If you ran out of prey, we would bring you more.”

“How do you propose to get me to the island, Heir of Slytherin?”

Harry swallowed. It wasn’t the proper title, really, but it didn’t seem a good idea to tell the basilisk that right now. “I would need to Transfigure you into another animal and keep you with me until I am able to journey to the island in a few months.” They had decided that it wasn’t worth risking a separate journey to Padfoot’s Premises before Christmas.

The basilisk swayed some more. Then she said, “It would be hard to kill my prey without one of my fangs.”

“My apologies, deadly mistress. I thought that great magical serpents could regrow their fangs. I see I was mistaken.”

The basilisk hissed in irritation. “I have never had need of such a thing!”

“But you do not believe you can do it?”

As Harry thought would probably happen, that had caught the basilisk on the hook of her pride. She snapped her head back. “Of course I can!”

“Then you may spare a fang to make the bargain, deadly mistress. You will not be able to leave this place without my help.”

The basilisk hissed and swept her tail around, breaking off a piece of one pillar. Neville trembled next to Harry, but Harry squeezed his hand reassuringly and watched the basilisk. What he had said was true enough, and the snakes he’d spoken to in the past had done best with blunt, straightforward instructions.

“Very well,” the basilisk said, and turned to face him. Her head lowered, her mouth gaping open to show her fangs.

Harry moved slowly forwards, pushing gently back when Neville tried to follow him. This could still be a trick, if the basilisk was angry enough, and while Harry might survive a bite if the venom killed the Horcrux in him instead of his own body, Neville would stand no chance from a bite at all.

The basilisk let him take her fang, using a Severing Charm and then a Numbing Charm, without complaint. She raised her head when he was done and regarded him consideringly. “I insist on being Transfigured into a reptile,” she said. “Not a mammal, and not prey.”

Harry nodded. The Transfigurations he had practiced on snakes so far had all been from one kind of serpent to another. He raised his wand. “I will cast the Transfiguration now, mighty mistress.”

The basilisk hissed in warning, but remained still. Harry wove his power around her with difficulty, but he had practiced for this, after all, and there was no book that stated Transfiguring a basilisk was difficult for someone underage in the same way Fiendfyre was. “Commuto,” he hissed, casting in Parseltongue, and the magic shot out and circled around the basilisk.

Gradually, she shrank, and Harry stopped, panting harshly, when she was a two-meter cobra. He wished he could have turned her into a constrictor instead of a venomous snake, but that was beyond his Transfiguration prowess right now. He dropped down and reached out an arm.

She coiled over to him and curled around his body. Harry carefully arranged his robes so that he could hide her. It was for the best, anyway, since that way she could stay closer to his body warmth. Harry let out a sharp breath and turned around.

Neville had taken the blindfold off.

“Neville!”

Neville shrugged, grinning. “I trusted you,” he said, before Harry could scold him. “And I know that you would have told me if you hadn’t succeeded in Transfiguring her.”

“That is not the point,” Harry began, but then Neville grabbed hold of the back of his head, and it seemed they were kissing in the middle of the Chamber of the Secrets, watched by a cobra hissing sarcastic insults and with a dripping fang lying on the ground not far from them.

It was sort of typical of Harry’s life, all told.

VII. Panthers and Lilies.

Neville shivered and straightened his shoulders against the chill pressing in on him. He couldn’t have done this last year, but now a great panther Patronus paced next to him and drove the Dementors a little further away as Neville made his way down an Azkaban corridor.

It had been a year of chaos, with Harry using the basilisk fang to destroy the locket they had discovered in Grimmauld Place and drinking a carefully-diluted and prepared potion of it to kill the Horcrux inside him. They had known there were likely two left, but after they’d discovered the diadem hidden in Hogwarts, they’d reached an impasse.

It had been Sirius who had speculated that if Voldemort had given the diary to Lucius Malfoy, he might well have given another Horcrux to one of his high-ranking followers. And now that Barty Crouch, Jr., was dead, there were none more high-ranking or fanatical than Bellatrix Lestrange.

Sirius had visited her in Azakban, but had had no luck in getting her to talk about it. She was deranged, he’d said when he came back, his face pale. And Minister Scrimgeour was keeping close tabs on Sirius and wouldn’t grant a request for a second visit to Azkaban.

So Neville had volunteered. He thought that if anyone could drive Bellatrix Lestrange into a frenzy, it would be the son of the Aurors she had tortured and left drooling in insanity.

He hardened his heart as he came to the right cell. His panther sat back and looked at him. For all that it was silvery in color, like all Patronuses, Neville thought he saw a glimpse of wild black fur on top of its head, and smiled.

Then he turned to the cell where Lestrange lay slumped over, asleep or unconscious, and snarled, “Get on your feet, Death Eater scum.”

Lestrange jerked and sat up, blinking. Her eyes focused on him, and to Neville’s mingled surprise and hope, she appeared to recognize him immediately. Sirius had said that she’d needed to be reminded who he was. Lestrange laughed, a cackle that broke in the middle. “Iddle baby Longbottom,” she whispered. “What is he doing here?”

“I’ve been going around destroying your Lord,” Neville said casually, popping a hip against the bars. “Piece by piece. Of course, technically he’s still out there and could return, but we found the piece that Lucius Malfoy was supposed to guard.” He grinned at her. “So now we’ll just need to search for the last piece. The one you have.”

Lestrange screamed and flung herself against the bars. Neville moved a little distance away so that her spittle didn’t splash him, but something fast and quiet and satisfied was beating in his chest.

Neither Sirius nor Harry had liked this part of the plan, not when it had involved telling Lestrange the truth. But Neville had gambled that she wouldn’t be able to resist showing off her knowledge and blurting out at least part of the answer. If not, well, they would be no worse off than they had already been.

“You will never get it, baby!” Lestrange’s hands were scratching at the bars. “You—you will never find it!”

“Why not?” Neville taunted her. “Lucius was keeping the diary among his books, but we found it. If we can get into Malfoy Manor, why can’t we get into wherever you’ve hidden it?” And at least this was probably confirmation that Lestrange did have a Horcrux.

“They kill thieves!” Lestrange screamed, and then began to laugh again, a sound that erupted into a series of wet coughs. “They kill them, yes indeed, they do! They make you beg for mercy, they have dragons and they have spears! They have claws and teeth!” She tilted her head back and began to croon some of the words she’d just spoken to the tune of a splintered song.

Neville felt a grin break over his face. That sounded like the goblins to him, which meant it was probably in her Gringotts vault. And while the goblins wouldn’t let them into Lestrange’s vault on a whim, Sirius had a literal ton of gold and not as much to spend it on as he’d like, given that Harry wasn’t the sort of person who valued the material presents Sirius would have showered him with. He ought to be able to give the goblins the equivalent of the gold and other artifacts in the Lestrange vault. They were very open to deals like that.

“Going to go the way of your parents, widdle Longbottom!”

Neville turned and walked out of the prison. He ignored the cackles that followed him. He could have said a lot of things, but as far as he was concerned, he had already gone the way of his parents, helping out a hero.

Harry was waiting near the entrance to the lower parts of Azkaban, his own Patronus, a huge Grim, circling around him. Neville hadn’t wanted him to come along in case he confused Lestrange. He straightened up. “You got it?”

“I got it. Gringotts.”

“I love you,” Harry blurted, and Neville laughed and let Harry pull him in for a kiss, continuing their tradition of snogging in inappropriate places.

*

Harry stepped slowly back from his parents’ graves. He’d placed lilies on them as he did every weekend, as he had done on Dumbledore’s tomb once they had used the basilisk fang to destroy Hufflepuff’s cup. He was shaking in the cool spring air.

It was the Easter holiday of his seventh year, and he had vanquished Lord Voldemort.

Harry closed his eyes. “It’s over,” he whispered. “Mum, Dad, I wish you could have seen it, but at least it’s over now.”

Strong arms encircled his waist, and Harry leaned back into Neville. Neville bowed his head so that his nose could rest against Harry’s neck, and whispered, “They would be so proud of you.”

Harry shivered and nodded. There was a time when he had been afraid they wouldn’t be. Because he had Sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor. Because he’d had only one friend for years, instead of being popular like they had been, and then because he’d run from Hogwarts and the Tournament. Because he’d collaborated with Dumbledore on destroying the Horcruxes, but hadn’t loved and respected the man like they had. Because he had never faced Voldemort in battle, like they had in their last moments.

But it was over now. Over and done. And he was still alive.

And he had Sirius. Luna.

Neville.

Harry twisted around and looked up at Neville. Neville met his eyes and smiled slightly.

“What do you say?” Harry whispered. “The first full moon after we take our NEWTS? The black roses will be in bloom in the Forbidden Forest.”

“Yeah,” Neville said, his face soft. “And we can invite Sirius, and Luna, and the thestrals. Gran might like to come.” His cheek twitched a little, and Harry touched it comfortingly. Neville’s Gran was a good person, but she was never going to stop looking for his parents in him and being disappointed. Harry hoped she would want to come to her only grandchild’s wedding, but he didn’t know for sure.

“We’ll invite whoever we want,” Harry said firmly. “Even the basilisk, if she wants to come.”

Neville was still laughing when Harry leaned up to kiss him, the scent of lilies soft and heavy around them.

The End.