This is a complete AU. Imagine a world where Muggles don't exist and you have this.
They'll be changes to characters' blood types, but some things will mirror canon.
I did research medieval slang, but it isn't perfect, and since this is an AU I didn't follow it exactly to the letter.

(thank you GallonoftheStuff and RedButterfly for being my betas)

Neville Longbottom

14th Century, Briton

The air was stuffy and dirty. The houses were built close together, with leaking roofs and stained bricks, moss growing in the cracks like a fungus. The streets were overcrowded.

Shabbily built market stalls selling fake Dragon eggs and broken wands lined the streets in the city square, gathering large crowds. A few young wizards in a back alley levitated a gaunt looking Squib in the air while passing Aurors turned a blind eye.

Further down the street people went to Fate's Temple to sacrifice small animals at the altar in hopes that it would atone for their sins, so afterwards they could go to the pub with a clear conscience.

The Leaky Cauldron was popular for its somewhat clean rooms and beer, low ceiling and a large fire that warmed up the room, with the odd singer in the background trying to calm down an impending brawl. But a few slips of Calming Draught in their drinks did a better job on most days.

"Nev, are you even listening?"

Neville's head jerked up, returning his attention back to his betrothed. Hannah fixed him with an exasperated look while her hand wiped down the bar counter with a wine-stained rag. She was a true Fairhead, with a wide forehead, pale skin, soft blue eyes and fair, wavy honey-blonde hair, all gathered up in a scarf tied around her head.

"Uh, sorry…" He gave her a sheepish smile.

Frustration flashed in her eyes. "Are you even taking this seriously?"

"Of course I am," Neville tried to placate her, his smile vanishing. "I just…you know what I'm like."

Hannah bit down on her bottom lip, her brow creasing in worry, as he hesitantly covered her hand with his. "You can't do this Nev - you'll die." Her voice wavered.

He swallowed a lump down his throat. He didn't want to have the same argument with her; it never ended well. "This is something I have to do, Hannah."

Hannah looked at him gravely, removing her hand from under his. "You know old man Tom, you know what he said to me two night ago?"

Neville shifted in his seat, looking at her attentively. "What did he say?"

"He wants us to take over the Leaky Cauldron," she said anxiously. His eyes widened, his lips parting as he tried not to gape. Owning a real Inn? That made you almost part of the elite! You didn't just hand it over to just anyone.

Neville felt a swell of happiness, his lips twitching into a smile. "Is he serious?"

The anxiousness left Hannah's face. "Well it isn't like he has any family left….and he always liked you." She held his hand tightly. "Nev, think about it, we could start a family…just forget Bellatrix-"

He flinched at the name, drawing his hand back, his stomach twisting painfully. "I should get going..."

Neville slipped off the bar stool, trying not to look at Hannah's desperate expression.

"Keep your guard up, Longbottom!" Mad-Eye barked, taking a large chug of wine as he sat on his chair. His magical eye swirled around the courtyard, his robes mismatched and patched.

The training yard was small, surrounded by tall houses, with plants growing along the sides and partly broken training dummies stuffed in each corner.

Neville ducked out of the way of Tonks' attack, her blunted blade hitting the dirt. He raised his sword. Tonks was six years older than him;she had more experience fighting and had survived three mass death matches before retiring early to marry and have a baby; she could probably kill him with one strike.

Their swords clashed. Neville tried to land a few kicks and punches but Tonks was fast and lithe, so it was hard to knock her down. And as much as he tried, he wasn't fast enough - his frame was too large, and years of malnutrition kept him from being considered a strongman or having a knight-like body.

"Strike her now!" Mad-Eye made a frustrated sound.

Neville still managed to knock Tonks Off her feet, his sword pointed at her neck, her chest rising up and down as she breathed heavily. She smirked wryly, looking up at him. "Not bad."

Neville smiled and her smirk widened. Her leg swerved out, kicking him hard in the stomach.

"Fuck," he hissed in pain. He was knocked back, winded, as Tonks jumped to her feet, snatching sword back up to strike him. He winced when the blade hit his padded ribs, but he remained standing.

Tonks swiped behind his leg, knocking him to his knees, her sword prodding his neck. "But when you knock me down, make sure I stay down."

Then she used her elbow to knock him out.

"You won't be able to use magic," Hannah reminded him, watching him prepare dinner in his gran's old house. Hannah came up beside him - he was sitting on a stool, skinning a rabbit.

"I know." His hand shook, holding the blade tighter. According to the Gods, magic wasn't the way to test a man and woman's true strength. Or perhaps that was Hippogriff shite and the nobles just liked seeing a bloody brawl like the next wizard.

Hannah's gaze didn't waiver. "Okay, let's say you do win, you kill her, then what?" She looked at him searchingly. Neville swallowed a lump down his throat. "The Blacks are a powerful family, her sister is marrying the heir to the throne, they'll come after you and me," she tried to talk sense to him.

Neville closed his eyes, his stomach churning. He looked up at Hannah. He'd been thinking about this for a long time now, ever since Bellatrix had announced she'd be retiring once she married Lestrange, as was the law for female fighters - that this year's match would be her last.

His last chance to get justice for his parents.

His mouth felt dry. He took a deep breath, placing the half-skinned rabbit on the woven cloth on the floor. "I won't let them come after you…"

She looked at him in confusion, as if she was trying to understand, but she couldn't. "Just because it's legal to kill someone in combat, doesn't mean they won't strike back, they'll find a-"

"If you're not connected to me, they won't come after you. With Gran gone, you're the only thing I have left." Hannah cut him off when she touched his arm. He forced himself to look her in the eye, reminding himself that she deserved a better life, she deserved someone better. "Ernie Macmillan still has a soft spot for you…he's a good man."

Hannah jumped to her feet, staring at him in shock, her hand covering her mouth as if to stop herself from shouting.

The words felt clogged up in his throat. "I love you, Hannah….but I can't. Do you know what she does to Squibs? Do You know what she did to Hermione Granger, the Witch they had to send to the Healers?" He stood to his feet, trying to draw closer to her. "The King, Riddle, High Priest Fudge, they don't care and everyone else is too scared..." A large lump formed in his throat. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she shook her head desperately. "I-If I die, you'll be taken care of, and if I live, the Macmillans will keep you safe; the Blacks wouldn't dare upset them."

"If you loved me, you wouldn't do this!" Hannah finally spoke, her voice raw. "I don't want to be taken care of, I just want you." She cupped his face, holding tightly - like she was trying to make him see sense. "Your parents wouldn't have wanted revenge, they would have wanted you to be happy," she said, her voice hitching from sobs. "Please, please, don't do this." She rested her forehead against his, her tears wetting his face.

He let out a shallow breath, his chest aching, his eyes feeling wet, and kissed her forehead. "I can't, I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I love you."

She pushed him away, clutching her stomach like she was in pain, before storming out of the small house.

Neville had dreamt about them every night for the past three years.

Some people said Frank Longbottom had been a fool; some said he had balls the size of a giant's.

Some people said he shouldn't have married that Squib Alice Smith, that since he was an Auror, he could have done better.

The King said Squibs were freaks, he said 'How can a child not be born with magic? It's unnatural, that's what it is.' And a lot of people were scared of what they didn't understand.

When he was ten, he remembered all the girls wanted to be like Bellatrix Black; they said she was the fiercest noble warrior in all the kingdom, but when his father had arrested Bellatrix for torturing and killing three Squibs, suddenly everyone wasn't so sure Bellatrix was as perfect as she appeared.

But money could buy anything, even a nice unfair trial where Bellatrix was pronounced innocent by the King himself and Frank Longbottom was dismissed from the Aurors. A year later young Narcissa Black and Prince Anselm Grindelwald's engagement was announced.

Neville stirred in his sleep. His father's disgrace should have been enough compensation, but it wasn't, not for Bellatrix - she didn't forgive easily. He learned that night what kind of monster she was, what type of world he lived in.

He imagined his parents' faces, never happy, always screaming. That night he had been concealed under the floorboards in the cellar, notice-me-not charms surrounding him protectively like a blanket.

He heard the cold laughter that followed his parents' screaming and begging.

"Crucio."

Bellatrix said the spell with relish and passion, like she was in Zion, bathing in Fate's glory.

"Crucio."

Neville woke up with a start, soaked with sweat. A few rats skittered underneath his bed, the moonlight shining from the window.

The Aurors never even bothered to investigate it they already knew, but no one cared.

Hannah was right, his parents would have wanted him to move on, to try and get over these nightmares and start a family. But he couldn't do it, he couldn't close his eyes without remembering their screaming.

Gran had told him revenge wasn't justice.

But he couldn't keep living like this - it had to end.

Neville sat on a stool in the training yard, cleaning his worn, blunt sword.

"Could you kill her though?"

He almost jumped out of his skin, jerking his head around and finding Mad-Eye towering above him, both eyes fixated on him.

Neville swallowed a dry lump down his throat. The question felt like a tonne of bricks. "I have to, or she'll kill me." He Got to his feet.

Mad-Eye snorted, shaking his head. "It's suicide, Longbottom. She's a wolf and you're the lamb."

"Someone has to stand up to her," said Neville evenly, standing his ground as his mentor's good eye narrowed at him. "And whatever she throws at me, I can take it."

Whatever Bellatrix did to him, it would never equal how much she had made his parents suffer; he owed it to them to be strong. He had to be brave, just like his father. Mad-Eye looked at him intently. "You're either the bravest or the dumbest lad I ever met," he said, letting out a low scoff. "Follow me." Mad-Eye gestured him to come, walking out of the training yard.

They entered a rundown-looking house, full to the brim with weapons; bows and arrows, maces, staffs, shields, spears and swords. The weapons were cleaner than the house.

Neville froze when he saw Mad-Eye pulled a glistening sword from a purple velvet cloth. The sword looked untouched and as sharp as a Basilisk's fang; the handle was tinted silver with ruby-red gems and detailed engravings. But more importantly, were the words engraved on the blade:

Godric Gryffindor.

One of the four original wizards, a legend and practical deity in The Holy Book of Fate.

How in the thirteen hells of Temptation did Mad-Eye have this sword!

Neville didn't realise he was gaping. Mad-Eye smirked, handling the sword as if it were light as a feather. "I thought the same myself when I laid eyes on it. The Goblins are a tricky lot, possessive too…."

Neville stepped closer. "How did you steal it?" How are you not dead?

Mad-Eye gave him a shrewd look. "You think I'm a thief, Longbottom?"

Neville's eyes widened as he held his hands up quickly. "No! No, nothing like that!"

Mad-Eye's lips quirked upwards as he presented the sword out to him. "This is the best sword you'll find here in Pendragon. Take it."

Neville hesitated, holding his breath before releasing it apprehensively. He took hold of the handle, and the sword seemed to glow in his grip.

Mad-Eye looked at him sternly, but there was a hint of sadness in his hard gaze. "Remember lad, she likes to play with her food. So be careful."

The rules were simple:

The last one standing was the winner. No magic was allowed, but all manner of weapons were permitted. Four people were placed in the stadium - sometimes six if the summer solstice was taking place.

Bellatrix was fast, but he had strength on his side. The sword of Gryffindor was at his waist and his armour was polished. He almost laughed when he saw his reflection in the male changing room's mirror; he looked like a knight in shining armour.

The other two fighters were Scabior and Greyback. Scabior had a feral look about him, while Greyback looked like a brute with sharp teeth.

A soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. "You look handsome."

He turned around. Hannah was there, dressed in a long, modest, clean dress she normally wore for temple prayer. There was a long fresh daisy in her hand. "Hannah," he breathed her name, stepping closer. His chest ached as he ignored Scabior and Greyback's leering looks.

He hadn't seen her in months; he didn't think she'd ever want to see his face again. "Here." She stuck the daisy in the gap of his collar. "Mum used to say that it was good luck…it's a stupid superstition…"

He held her hand. It felt rough and worn, smelling like strong wine. He smiled softly. "Thank you."

Her bottom lip trembled, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply, her lips warm and demanding. He closed his eyes and basked in the moment, wanting it to last forever.

Until the pressure of her lips lessened. "You're an idiot, but I love you." She rested her forehead against his, her eyes still closed.

He gave her a half-smile, his stomach twisting painfully. "I know, but you deserve better." He gazed at her tenderly. "I love you."

Greyback yelled at him to hurry up as the gates opened. Neville's stomach plummeted, like a basin of ice cold water had been poured over him. He looked at Hannah, and there was a resignation in her eyes.

He hesitated, before kissing her one last time and pulling away.

The sun was hot on his skin, his breathing laboured. Blood was leaking from his crown. He tried to remain focused.

Scabior was dead, and Bellatrix was in the middle of pulling her sword out of Greyback's chest.

Bellatrix looked at him like a wolf would its prey, gleaming crimson-stained sword in hand. She was dressed in coal-black, expensive armour, her tangled black hair tied up into a bun and her helmet tossed aside as if she thought she was invincible.

Thousands of people watched, some cheering, a small few screaming, the Weasley and Lovegood families being the most vocal in their pleas. Hannah was somewhere in the crowd too..."He's just a boy!" Molly Weasley screeched above the voices.

King Grindelwald watched on from his private box, gaze impassive. The crowned Prince and his betrothed Narcissa were on the King's right hand side. The royal advisor Tom Riddle, sat on the King's left, grey eyes glinting with dark amusement.

Neville kept his gaze locked on Bellatrix, holding his sword tighter, rage bubbling in his gut.

Bellatrix ran forward and their blades clashed. They were close, heads inches apart as they stared each other down. Recognition shone in her eyes, and a smile twisted onto her face. "Longbottom, isn't it?" she crooned, slashing her sword with viper-like speed. Neville kept his guard up. "I think I met your parents, didn't I?" Her voice as sweet as honey.

He gritted his teeth, striking back. She blocked his attacks, pivoting on the spot like this was some sort of dance, then struck his thigh with her sword, making a large gash. He ignored the pain, trying to hit her left leg.

She elbowed him in the face, breaking his nose.

"Ah! Now I remember!" Bellatrix chuckled, manoeuvring at a frightening speed. He flinched when her sword came crashing down near his head. "Aw, was the widdle boy upset when mummy and daddy went bye-bye?"

His eyes widened in anger. "Shut up!" His stomach twisted painfully. The hatred festered and grew inside of him.

She whipped out a knife and stabbed his left thigh. He screamed in pain while she laughed.

His wound burned, his body became unbalanced, but he forced himself to stay standing. He tried to stab her in the stomach but she pulled back, twisted smug smile still carved on her face.

She kicked him to the ground, circling him excitedly. Her smile widened and she giggled. "Your parents are my fondest memory, Longbottom. I put it on a shelf next to my Pensieve, you know," Bellatrix taunted, slowly dragging her sword down his leg, making another large cut.

He cried out in pain.

She likes to play with her food.

Her pupils dilated as she looked at him with wild eyes.

Rage in its purest form washed over him. "Fuck off, you sick, inbred cunt."

The smile dropped from her face. It looked like he'd hit a nerve. She raised her sword.

He gathered all his strength to push himself up, grabbing her right leg and knocking her to the ground.

There was a collective gasp.

Her head hit the floor and he straddled her waist, the point of his sword hovering over her throat. Her breath hitched, as she stared up at him in shock, her sword and dagger just out of reach.

The blade touched her skin and he saw fear enter her eyes.

Could you kill her though?

"No!" a shrill voice screamed.

Neville looked up. Narcissa Black was standing on her feet, while her betrothed tried to pull her back. Neville kept his blade against Bellatrix's throat, while Bellatrix gritted her teeth, anger in her eyes as if enraged by Narcissa's outburst.

The stadium was silent.

"Stop this!" Narcissa implored to the King.

For the first time, something occurred to Neville. Narcissa Black was fifteen years old and her sister was about to die. Suddenly, Bellatrix became very human and not the monster who haunted his dreams.

Because right now, to Narcissa, he was the monster.

Could you kill her though?

Grindelwald ignored his future daughter-in-law, as Riddle whispered something in his ear. The King smiled coldly then stared straight at Neville, his gaze commanding.

"Kill her."

Neville's hands shook. Blood from his wound was dripping down his leg; the deep cut burned worse than ever.

"KILL HER!" the crowd roared.

Narcissa was crying, her eyes full of hate.

"KILL HER! KILL HER!"

Neville lifted his sword and Bellatrix's eyes widened.

"KILL HER! KILL HER! KILL HER!"

Bellatrix's arm twitched to her dagger.

Neville stabbed the sword down into the ground, an inch from her head.

She swiped up the dagger and stabbed him in the neck.

"NEV!"

The last thing he heard was an anguished scream, followed by a blinding light.

The daisy was stained with blood.