His Own Shoes
Chapter One: Coming Home
So much loss, thought Neville as he absentmindedly stroked his Devil's Snare. It often curled around his right wrist as it did now, mitigating the twinges he still occasionally felt from his broom accident his first year.
"… and then we could even enlist the house-elves, couldn't we, Neville?"
Neville shook himself quickly out of his reverie. "What?" he asked, trying to identify who had spoken to him.
Ginny pawed at his robes impatiently. "If we're going to keep non-purebloods safe," she explained slowly, "we're going to have to hold down a safe place. And could ask the house-elves for help. For food and stuff."
"And possibly also for patrols," interjected Ernie Macmillan. His arm was draped around Pavarti Patil; they had started dating over the summer. His new Head Boy badge gleamed noticeably from his chest. "We won't be able to keep an eye on everything without drawing suspicion that we're up to something."
Neville nodded in agreement. His gaze flickered over to Justin Finch-Fletchley as he considered the danger they were all riding towards.
As a pureblood, Neville had some stature – and therefore protection. Many of his friends, however, did not.
They were on their way to their seventh year at Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were off doing who-knows-what, leaving the rest of Dumbledore's Army to fend for itself. They had all gathered in a large compartment together. Tension was palpable throughout the entire train, the Prefects among them reported. But it was not the normal, excited sort of tension that normally permeated the Hogwarts Express. Instead, for the first time, there was fear.
The day was grey, rainy, and colder than the beginning of September warranted. Students had shuffled onto the train in heavy wool cloaks, which were usually packed near the bottom of trunks and not shaken out until mid-November. Neville had been able to find Luna in the sea of black quickly; her sky-blue cloak temporarily broke the heavy sadness that pressed down upon them.
No one knew exactly what to expect at Hogwarts after Dumbledore's death. Their school letters had come as usual, but mentioned no news of a new Headmaster. The fall of the Ministry (and the disappearance of the Golden Trio) had sent the D.A. into a flurry of activity. Those who could apparate often showed up on Neville's doorstep with younger members in tow, ready to work.
They pored over maps and books (especially Hogwarts, A History), looking for long-forgotten secrets that they could exploit. Fred and George Weasley were enlisted to create a new version of the Maurader's Map for their use. Neville's drawing room, much to Augusta Longbottom's chagrin, was wallpapered with the faces of Voldemort's known followers. The pictures leered menacingly whenever someone walked in. The members of Dumbledore's Army took turns quizzing each other on their enemies' faces. They hexed each other into oblivion, preparing themselves for defensive and offensive encounters. If something went wrong, Tonks was around enough to show them how to fix injuries. She avoided the Ministry more often than not now, like many others in the Order.
Neville's kitchen, once cheery, adopted an atmosphere much like Snape's dungeon. Slughorn had privately tutored Neville in potion-making during his sixth year. No longer under Snape's cruel supervision, Neville had developed moderate skill in brewing potions. For additional help, Ernie was particularly adept at explaining to Neville why a potion had to be made a certain way; it was a breath of fresh air after Hermione, who had only barked instructions feverishly during class.
With his newfound skills, Neville often stayed up through the night, brewing healing potions he prayed would not be depleted before more could be made. After his seventeenth birthday at the end of July, he had full command of the Longbottom fortune, making it easy to buy expensive necessities like Essence of Murtlap. They had no way of knowing if they could bring these items in once at Hogwarts.
On the evening before they boarded the Hogwarts Express, Justin brought everyone new trunks. "They're a Muggle contraption, you see," he said as he showed the gathered members how to disengage the false bottom. "If they inspect our luggage – when they inspect our luggage – no magical fallacies will be detected."
"So we can bring anything in?" Luna traced her fingers along her new trunk wonderingly.
"Anything," Justin asserted. He caught Neville's eye and smiled.
Neville felt himself blush.
He hoped no one would blush now. Death Eaters, led by the blonde Yaxley, were all but ransacking the train. Ginny leaned over and pulled gently on his sleeve. "I don't think they're looking for contraband," she murmured. "I think they're looking for Harry."
Neville nodded once. Steeling himself, he stood up. Yaxley looked over with a start.
"Hey, losers," Neville said stoutly. His legs shook beneath him, betraying his fear. "He's not here."
The only comfort to Neville when they arrived at Hogsmeade was the sight of thestrals pulling the carriages. Hagrid was nowhere to be seen to greet the first years; instead, a man and woman stood together at the head of the queue of students getting off the train, long lists of parchment in their hands.
"It's the Carrows," Michael Corner said. "Amycus, that big git over there, and his sister Alecto."
"What are they checking?" inquired Luna, craning her neck.
"Blood status, probably," a gangly fourth-year said over her shoulder. Justin paled. "Or making sure you're not Harry bloody Potter," she added as an afterthought.
"D'you think they'll let me back in?" Justin mumbled to Neville. His forehead was creased with worry.
"We're going to get you in." Neville purposefully avoided answering Justin's question. His mind raced with different scenarios; of all the planning Dumbledore's Army had done, this was a situation they had not considered.
The queue inched closer and closer to the Carrows.
"Polyjuice," said Ernie suddenly. "It's undetectable. Tell them you're me, then I'll go through ten minutes later and say I had to double back for Head Boy duties." He bent to rummage through his trunk. "Aha." He held up a small flask. Ripping a couple strands of hair from his head, Ernie handed the flask to Justin.
"Brilliant," Justin breathed. He took a swig of the potion. Neville, Ernie, Michael, and Ginny stood around him as he transformed, looking around to make sure no one else was watching.
Ernie headed to the back of the line.
They moved closer to the Carrows. With every step, Justin's breathing got more labored. When they were ten people back, Neville grabbed Justin's upper arm. "You're going to be fine," he said, looking Justin straight in the eyes. "We're going to get you through this."
"But what about after we're inside?" asked Justin. His breaths were getting shorter and shorter.
"This is our home," Neville said, clenching Justin's arm tighter. "Hogwarts is our home. It belongs to us. It will keep us – it'll keep you – safe."
The queue in front of them shuffled ahead. Justin took a deep breath and steadied himself. "I'm Ernie Macmillan," he said under his breath, in perfect imitation of his best friend. "I'm Ernie Macmillan, and I am Head Boy."
That evening after supper, Neville, Ginny, Luna, and Ernie gathered in Professor McGonagall's office. McGonagall, Neville noted, looked like she had aged ten years over the summer.
"That was… enlightening," Neville offered, breaking the silence. The Welcoming Feast had been much shorter than usual. Severus Snape, their new Headmaster, had seen the hatred in so many students' eyes. Instead of making speeches, he had merely sat in his chair, offering no welcome, watching as McGonagall took care of the Sorting.
There were fewer First Years this year. Probably, Neville thought with a sinking stomach, because Muggle-borns hadn't received any sort of letter in the mail. The Sorting Hat also made no grandiose speeches, choosing only to recite the virtues of each House. Neville thought it lingered overlong on Slytherin.
"Aye," said Ernie tiredly. Getting Justin safely to the Hufflepuff dormitories had been easy enough, after Michael had thought to conjure Justin his own Head Boy badge. Hannah Abbott, due to health issues after her mother died, had her own dormitory, which she quickly offered to share with Justin. Ernie explained the situation hastily to McGonagall. She nodded.
"I cannot guarantee anyone's safety," McGonagall said, a slight tremor in her voice. "I cannot offer you more than my support, silent as it may be."
"We understand," said Ginny. The disappointment was still obvious on everyone's faces.
"The arrival of the Carrows was not unexpected, but I fear their methods will prove detrimental…"
McGonagall was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. The color drained from her face.
Amycus Carrow shouldered his way in through the solid oak door. His wand was already out. "And what the hell is going on here?" As he looked around the room, a smirk grew on his twisted face. "Potter's pets, I see," he growled as he walked up to Ginny. He grabbed a long strand of red hair off of her shoulder. "Discussing the whereabouts of our mutual friend, are we?" he hissed into her ear.
"This is a N.E.W.T. preparation class," McGonagall spat through her teeth. She clutched the back of her chair for support, her knuckles white. "These students need remediation to pass, as we were just discussing –"
"Remediation, my arse," said Carrow, letting go of Ginny's hair and turning to the professor. Ginny shrank up against the wall next to Luna. "You're plotting something." He stared at each student in turn, daring them to break. His efforts were met with icy stares. "You can't protect them forever, Minerva," Carrow grunted. He left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Neville rushed to support Ginny, who was barely steady on her feet. McGonagall slumped back down into her chairs.
"I should escort you back to your common rooms, it would seem," she said, eyes downturned. "Hogwarts is no longer safe for its students."
