Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, playing in JK Rowling's sandbox for a bit, no characters are my own unless otherwise noted, only the plotline is my own, please don't sue.


Tales from a Wizarding War


I was sixteen when the war began. Thrust into a war that shouldn't have been fought, that should have ended fifteen years before. It would be known as one of the most brutal Wizarding wars of the twentieth century, bar none. It was the end of my Fifth year when it all went to hell in a handbasket. Voldemort's rebirth the year before, the ministry's blindness when it came to recognising the threat, the whole bloody fiasco at the Department of Mysteries... Heh. Old anger still burns. That was the turning point for some of us. Especially Harry.

After Sirius' death, something broke inside Harry, and he just pushed himself harder and harder over the holidays. He was a man possessed, outright demanding training from Dumbledore, hoping that raw power and battle training could defeat decades of experience. We joined him too of course, the entire DA and more, in fact. That was my Sixth and Seventh year, endless training and drills from Kingsley and Moody, along with two of Moody's 'friends,' called in as an old favour. Pushed through a combat training regime that put hit wizards to shame, twenty of us passed to Moody's satisfaction in the end, mostly from DA. But we were still children, unblooded, untested children at that. So we pulled out of Hogwarts, all going willingly, and turned into a reaction team against Death Eater strikes. Tempered by harsh, ruthless training, and hardened by the crucible of warfare, I, like countless others, was shaped and sharpened into a blade that would finally cut out the heart of the Darkness.

The first battles we fought were chaotic, fighting against an old menace using new tactics. We lost a lot of good people on the Light side, some of the DA and their families among the toll. We lost too many then and too many more before the war's end.

Twenty years after the end of it all, Wizarding Britain is still recovering. Twenty years after, I feel I can finally talk about the battles I fought. My name is Neville Longbottom, and these are tales from the Second Wizarding War.