Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Unforgivable Cruelty

By: ChoCedric

"It's all right, sonny," Mad-Eye Moody said in a gentle growl as he guided a shaking Neville Longbottom to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. The boy in question had a million thoughts racing through his head, and he felt tears sting his eyes. Angrily, he blinked them back; he didn't want to cry here in the hallway.

He'd just witnessed a demonstration of the three Unforgivable Curses, and of course, the one that had affected him the most was the horrific Cruciatus. At a very early age, his grandmother had told him that his parents had been tortured into insanity by this particular curse, and seeing it in action shattered him. True, it had only been a spider that had been affected by it, but it was still a living thing, and watching it twitch made him think of what his parents must have been through in their final moments of lucidity.

When he finally came out of his morose thoughts, he found that he was in the DADA office, and Moody was pointing to a chair. As Neville sat down, he looked around; he'd never been in this office before.

"Ah, you like my Dark Detectors, do you, Longbottom?" asked Moody as he saw Neville staring at his Foe-Glass. "Ah, the Foe-Glass usually shows me my enemies," he said, and Neville couldn't describe the peculiar expression that stole across the ex-Auror's face.

"Why do I see myself in it, then?" he asked in a small voice.

"Ah, yes. It seems to be malfunctioning at the moment," said Moody, and he was glad that Neville didn't notice the sinister, twisted smile that began to curl the ends of his mouth.

"Oh," said Neville, accepting the explanation.

As Moody made tea for them both, he said, "Listen, sonny ... I'm sorry. I know that lesson was hard on you, but you've got to know, Longbottom. You've got to know what you're up against."

Neville felt truly ashamed as he felt tears come to his eyes again, and this time, he couldn't keep them from falling down his cheeks. "I know," he said miserably.

"There's no need to cry, sonny. You should be proud of your parents," said Moody, laying a heavy hand on Neville's shoulder. "They fought like heroes, and they fought for you."

By this point, the tea was ready, and both males drank as Neville did his best to stop the flow of tears. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"No need," said Moody gruffly. "I know it was tough on you. It was tough on me too, to see Alice and Frank like that. They were the best damn Aurors in the whole Ministry; two better wizards you couldn't find anywhere. I was one of the people who caught those scum Death Eaters and put them in Azkaban, where they belong."

"I hardly remember them," said Neville miserably. "What ... what were they like?"

Neville saw a peculiar light enter Moody's eyes then, and he got up and opened a cabinet, taking out something that looked like a bowl. It had runes carved on it, and Neville immediately knew what it was. "I can show you," the ex-Auror said softly.

"You mean ... that's a Pensieve, isn't it?" Neville whispered in awe. "You mean ... you can really show me what they were like?"

"Yes," said Moody. "Would you like to see?"

Neville nodded fervently. He watched as Moody put his wand to his temple and extracted a silvery strand. Neville had never seen this done before, but instinctively knew that his teacher was removing a memory.

"Ready, Longbottom?" he asked softly.

"Are you going in with me?" asked Neville.

"I think not, sonny," Moody replied. "I think it's best you see this on your own."

"Okay." Neville said, and he suddenly felt a bout of nervousness. What memory was he going to see? What would his parents be like? Would they be holding him as a baby? Would his mother be singing him a lullaby?

And before he knew it, he was plunging his hand into the Pensieve, and he was falling, falling, falling ...

And as he fell, Mad-Eye Moody, also known as Barty Crouch, Jr., let out a wicked cackle of laughter which Neville didn't hear. "Good luck, Longbottom." he smirked evilly as he watched the boy disappear inside the Pensieve.

xxx

When Neville took a look at his surroundings, he instantly knew something was terribly, horrifically wrong. His face went white, and his heart plummeted down to his stomach.

He'd always been told that Mad-Eye Moody was a lunatic, that he was a little on the cruel side, that he liked to "toughen people up" to make them stronger. But never in his wildest dreams did Neville think he'd be taken advantage of this way.

For as he looked around the room, he saw two figures lying on the floor, their hands and feet bound by thick ropes. Four people stood around them, and though they had masks on, Neville instantly knew who they were.

A woman's voice broke through his terrified thoughts, and he swivelled his head around to look at her.

"If you don't tell me where the Dark Lord is this instant, Longbottom, you will see your wife suffer!" shrieked Bellatrix Lestrange.

"I'm telling you, you evil bitch, I DON'T KNOW!" shrieked the voice of the bound man. "Please, don't hurt my wife! She's done nothing wrong!"

"Done nothing wrong?" screamed someone else in fury. The voice sounded incredibly young, and Neville knew it was Barty Crouch, Jr. under that mask. "She knows what happened to our Master, as do you, and you refuse to tell us! CRUCIO!"

And the woman on the floor started to writhe and scream, and Neville leaped towards Crouch, trying to wrestle the wand from his hand, but it was only a memory, so his hand went right through him. The curse was still held on Alice Longbottom, and her screams shot a dagger through Neville's heart. "Mum, Mum, Mum, noooo!" he screamed hysterically, tears once again streaming down his reddened face.

And then, it stopped. Crouch turned to look at the two once fearless Aurors. Frank was struggling in his bonds, trying to get to his wife, and Alice was panting as she tried to recover from the horrendous pain she'd just been in.

Bellatrix shrieked with laughter as she said, "That was only a taster, Longbottom. If you don't tell us what we want to know ..."

"Alice, Alice, I'm sorry!" cried Neville's father. "God, I'm so sorry!"

"Frank, it isn't your fault," Alice said through pain-filled tears. "Whatever happens to me, I love you. I will always love you."

"Ooooh, how touching. You looooove him," cackled Bellatrix as the other three Death Eaters laughed uproriously at Alice's comment. "And you love your itty bitty baby Bottom too, don't you? Don't worry," she whispered malevolently as she bent down to Alice's level. "After we're finished with you we'll have some fun with him, don't you worry about that."

Alice and Frank were both struggling in their bonds now, both looking terrified but full of rage. "YOU ... WILL ... NOT ... HURT ... OUR ... SON!" yelled Frank, fighting back his own tears. "Do what you want with us, Bellatrix, but you will not harm a hair on our son's head, and neither will your filthy master. HE's DEAD, THAT's WHERE HE IS! HE's DEAD!"

"Wrong answer, Longbottom," said Crouch, pointing his wand at Frank as Bellatrix pointed hers at Alice. In unison, both Death Eaters cried, "CRUCIO!"

Neville covered his ears in despair as his parents screamed and screamed and screamed. But the sound still pierced him, and he collapsed to the floor, his face in his hands, shrieking "Mum, Dad, Mum, Dad, no!" over and over again. "Make it stop, please, please, please, make it stop!"

And then, suddenly, he felt himself being lifted into the air. The next thing he knew, he was out of the Pensieve and was lying on the floor in the DADA office.

And as he stared into the face of the man who had just shown him the worst thing he would ever see in his life, he saw with horror that it was not Moody he was staring at. Instead, he was staring at ...

"YOU!"

The word left Neville's lips in a scream as rage like no other filled his every pore, threatening to break free.

For no, it was not Mad-Eye Moody he was staring at.

It was Barty Crouch, Jr.

"Yes, Longbottom. Indeed it is me," smirked Crouch as Neville pointed his wand right at the man's heart. "Expelliarmus!"

And Neville wasn't quick enough. His wand went flying out of his hand, and landed in the hand of the man who was supposed to have died in Azkaban many years ago.

"You ... YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD!"

"Is that so?" asked Crouch sinisterly, twirling Neville's wand around and around in his hand. "Your filthy parents said that about the Dark Lord too, but he's not dead either, is he?"

"HOW DARE YOU!" roared Neville, having never been filled with such adrenaline in his life. "HOW DARE YOU!"

"Oh, I indeed dare, I indeed dare," sneered Crouch. "Didn't I tell you, sonny, that you had to know? How did you enjoy that little lesson? Aren't I a good teacher?" he smirked.

"You'll end up back in Azkaban before you know it!" shouted Neville, tears still streaming down his face.

"Oh, no, no, no, I don't think so, Longbottom." Crouch snarled. "And if you don't join the right side you'll end up a screaming, frothing wreck just like your pathetic parents."

"They are not pathetic! You are!" Neville yelled. "And you're not going to get away with this! I'm going to tell the whole world what a monster you are!"

"I think not," replied Crouch, smiling nastily. "After all, you aren't going to remember any of this."

And Neville stood, defenseless, wandless, powerless to stop Barty Crouch from the deed he was about to perform.

He took out a hip flask from his pocket and drank its contents. Then, pointing his wand right at Neville's heart, he incanted, "OBLIVIATE!"

The next thing Neville knew, he felt a deep fog lift from his mind. He was still sitting in the office of Mad-Eye Moody, and the last thing he remembered was the ex-Auror telling him that his parents had fought like heroes. He was horrified to discover that tears were still streaming down his face.

"Don't worry, sonny," said Moody, his voice still that gentle growl. "You're in shock, that's all. Here, have some more tea."

Neville, trying to calm down, drank the offered beverage. Once he was done, he sniffled and faced Moody. "Th-thank you," he muttered ashamedly.

"Not a problem, not a problem," growled Moody. "Now, Longbottom, it is time you went back to your common room. But before you leave, I have something you might like."

Reaching up to a shelf, he pulled out a book. "Professor Sprout tells me you are excellent in her Herbology class," he said with a rare smile. "I am sure you will find this book very interesting."

Neville slowly took the book from Moody. "Thank you, sir," he said sincerely, pushing his chair back and getting up to leave.

"My pleasure," said Moody. "Now, go and join your friends. I will see you in our next lesson."

"Okay," said Neville as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, giving Moody a shaky smile of his own.

xxx

When the horrific events of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament occurred, and Neville saw Cedric Diggory's lifeless body lying on the grass, he knew that things would never be the same again. When he heard Harry screaming that You-Know-Who was back, his insides rolled and he felt incredibly nauseous. He knew that everything was going to change now, from this day forward.

And later that night, when Barty Crouch, Jr. was discovered as the man who had been posing as Mad-Eye Moody all year and was given the Dementor's Kiss, the memory charm was lifted. After all, the charm that had been placed on him wore off when the witch or wizard who cast it was damaged beyond repair.

He never told a soul what had happened in that office after the demonstration of the Unforgivable Curses. No one understood why he was so withdrawn that summer; they just thought it was because he had found out that Crouch had been teaching him all year, but it went much, much deeper than that.

And no one understood what had happened to change him so drastically that when he went back for his fifth year, he wasn't terrified, bumbling Neville Longbottom anymore. In his place was someone who gave his all to fight for what was right, who had a resolve more firm than anyone would ever think he could have.

As the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade station at the beginning of his fifth year, only one thought permeated his mind.

Mum, Dad, I am so, so proud of you. You sacrificed everything to fight for me, for a better world.

And I'll make you proud of me, too.