Chapter Two: Trouble Again

Neville sighed, hoisting his bookbag onto his shoulder as he stepped out of the Infirmary door. He winced at the feeling against his still-sore shoulder, but it faded quickly enough. He sighed again, then set off for Gryffindor Tower, hoping not to meet anyone. Particularly not the Carrows, or their 'Discipline Squad'.

Madam Pomfrey had kept him in the Infirmary for four days. It would have been boring, save for the fact that he ached, and that he'd had plenty of visitors to keep him company.

McGonagall had come by with his Transfiguration homework, and a lecture about not antagonizing the Carrows. She'd called him a 'foolish boy' and scolded him, but he'd noticed she was worried about him, and he'd seen her having a long, quiet talk with Madam Pomfrey, at the other end of the ward, where he couldn't hear them.

Flitwick had also brought him homework. The rest of it had been delivered by his fellow students, most notably his fellow members of 'Dumbledore's Army'. They had, between discussion of assignments, kept him informed of what was going on. That the Carrows had laid off for a little bit, though they were still nasty. But they'd apparently received a lecture of some sort, from Snape or Voldemort. The rest of it had been brief notes on who was in trouble, and over what. However, his own punishment had been the worst event in the past week. He flinched, remembering the searing pain, the blows of spell after spell that he was helpless to prevent. He'd thought he was going to die. Now...

He still ached. But the pounding in his head that had persisted for two days was gone. So were the burning sensations in his back and gut, and the sharp stabbing pain of over-strained muscles. And more noticeably, the deep agony of the double Cruciatus they'd inflicted. Compared to what he'd felt when he'd passed out, and when he'd first awakened, the mild ache he felt now was nothing, and Pomfrey had assured him it would vanish in the next day or so.

He looked down at his arms. When he'd awakened that first day, they'd been bandaged, and he'd peeked under the wrappings to see the raw, livid lines of slash marks, though they were all sealed. Now even the lines were gone. He was really remarkably lucky. He remembered thinking that he'd be scarred forever.

He shook his head, then hitched his bag up and started for the Tower again, keeping a careful watch out for anyone dangerous. Twice he ducked into doorways to avoid Slytherins, but in the end, he made it safely to the portrait hole.

McGonagall was waiting there, her stern expression set with lines of worry. "Mr. Longbottom."

Neville stopped. "Professor." He swallowed. "Did you need to speak with me?"

"Not particularly, at this time. However, I did have some interest in making sure you arrived at your dorm without further trouble. I trust you have managed to avoid any more injuries between here and the Hospital Wing?"

"Yes ma'am." Neville ducked his head respectfully.

"And Madam Pomfrey has seen fit to clear you, and declared you fully recovered?" She still sounded worried, as if she suspected someone of throwing him out before he was well. Of course, with the Carrows, he understood.

"Yes ma'am. I'm a little stiff, and a bit sore maybe, but she says it'll be gone within a day." He swallowed and managed to look up, into her eyes. He saw worry there, clear concern. "Promise Professor. I'm fine." He looked down at his arm. "Reckon I might...might have got lucky this time."

"Lucky indeed. If Madam Pomfrey hadn't made such an effort, you could well have died." Her voice was sharp, to match the worry in her eyes. "I trust you are aware of that?"

Neville nodded. "Yes ma'am." He swallowed again. "But the Carrows..."

"I am well aware of what manner of people the Carrows are, Mr. Longbottom." He saw sympathy in her eyes, but also determination. "And I am well aware of why you might feel the wish to rebel. However, they are in charge. Their actions at this point can only be over-ruled by the Headmaster. And as the Headmaster shows very little inclination to reign them in..." Anger and disgust, and something like hatred crossed her expression. "Well, I am afraid there is very little I can do." She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, holding him gently. "I realize it is very difficult, Mr. Longbottom, but please...do try and curb those impulsive tendencies of yours. I've no wish to write your grandmother, and tell her that her grandson has preceded her."

Neville nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. He did love his grandmother, and she loved him too. She was a bit strict, and she'd let Uncle Algie at him for years, but still...they were family, and she took good care of him. "Yes ma'am."

McGonagall's softened. "You're a good child, Mr. Longbottom. At some point, I dearly hope I can allow you to follow your instincts. In the meantime, however, we must be patient." She patted his shoulder gently, then waved her hand, and the portrait opened. "In you go. I believe you have several homework assignments to make up, so you'd best get started."

Neville nodded again, and ducked inside, swallowing as he did so. He waited until the portrait closed, then reached into a pocket, fingering a small charmed coin that he'd had since his fifth year. A small smile reached his face, tempered by a touch of sadness. "Sorry, Professor." Then he stepped forward into the common room. Ginny, Seamus, and a number of others were waiting for him, all with books to present a pretense of studying. All of them looked up. Neville grinned. "Hey." Then he moved forward and settled himself next to Ginny, and pulled out his parchment with a smile. "Sorry I'm late, McGonagall was giving me a right lecture."

"Well, what you expect? You really got hammered there." Seamus grinned.

"He's right." Ginny smiled at him. "You know, if you want to lay low a while, no one's going to blame you."

"No. But we're going to have to be more careful." Neville smiled. "In the meantime...has anyone got any ideas?"

"Yeah. Reckon we might be able to make things a bit more uncomfortable." Lee Jordan grinned. "I've been thinking of all the stuff the Weasley twins did. That git Snape probably knows all the old tricks, but I bet our new teachers don't. And even Snape can't stop everything. And Filch might know, but he's pretty easy to avoid. So...all we gotta do is make sure we don't get caught this time."

Neville grinned, and picked up his quill. "All right then." The others crowded around. There was work to be done, after all.

The next two weeks went fairly well, or as well as it was possible for it to go. Neville managed to more or less keep out of the way of the Carrows, and the Discipline Squad. It annoyed him, having to be so careful, but he was used to it. Lee took a minor beating for standing up to one of the Slytherins, and Luna came to the two meetings they managed to have looking worse for the wear, as the students still liked to pick on her. Neville would have willingly hexed the lot of them, if he could have. But Seamus managed to hex two of the people who had injured Lee, and Ginny and two other girls, one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff, came to Luna's defense.

They even managed, by sheer good luck and nerve, to prank Snape. It wasn't much, a handful or two of dirt and mud coming out of nowhere in the hall by the Headmaster's office. Snape even avoided most of it, but the image of Snape dodging around the corridors was an amusing one, and they weren't caught. And, they did manage to get a bit into Snape's hair. "Might make him actually clean it for once."

Their last class Friday was Muggle Studies. Neville hated it. He didn't really know much about the Muggle world, but he knew people like Seamus, and Hermione, and Harry, who had come from it. And in just under two months of classes, he'd already seen the theme of it. There was nothing to it, except a lecture on how useless Muggles were, and how incompetent. It was all Alecto Carrow talked about, how absolutely filthy and horrid and useless Muggles were. She was full of lectures on how Muggles should be handled, her preferred methods being torture, slavery and death. It made Neville sick to his stomach, and furious. He'd missed one class, being in the Hospital Wing, and the following class he'd kept his head down, and managed to swallow his smart remarks when Alecto asked him what the value of Muggle technology was, instead answering with a mumbled 'I don't know'.

They filed into their seats, all of them gloomy. Neville settled as far to the back as he could get, and hoped to avoid any questions. He had a bad feeling about the class, one of the two he got in trouble in most often.

Alecto swept in, her usual insane sneer on her face, her wand flicking between her fingers in the mad, nervous energy she always seemed to possess. "Well, well another class." She snickered. "And not an eager student to be seen." Which was true. They were mainly Gryffindors. "Well, that can be understood, can't it? All this talk of Muggles is enough to turn anyone's stomach. So...we'll have a change of topic for the day, shall we?" A sneer crossed her face, a sort of sick amusement filling her eyes. "Today...why don't we discuss...Mudbloods. And half-breeds."

Neville felt his stomach clench, and his fists. His eyes flashed to where Seamus was sitting, only a few feet away. The other boy's back was ramrod straight, his face pale. He flicked his hand to the Galleon in his pocket, imagining the message he wanted on it. Calm. He felt it heat as it accepted his change, then sent the message on. He saw Seamus reach into his pocket, then relax ever so slightly.

Alecto continued. "Mudbloods...magic thieves. Unnatural creatures. And half-breeds...well, they are wizards, aren't they? They do have magic, of a sort. But really...how much magic can they have? After all, no matter how talented such a witch or wizard might appear, they are still tainted. Still have filthy blood. You can't trust them. Their blood will always tell. It's always obvious." Her gaze flicked over the classroom. "You." She pointed at Seamus. "Stand up."

Seamus rose from his seat. At Alecto's gesture, he moved to the front of the classroom. She smirked. "You...you're a half-breed, aren't you, boy?"

Seamus straightened his back. "Yeah, I am. Me dad's a Muggle, and right proud of it. So am I." A wild, challenging smile hovered across his mouth.

Alecto's wand flicked at him, a little too close. Neville tensed as it pointed at the youth, and saw half a dozen others tensing as well. Then she flicked it away, a lazy, cruel smile on her face. "As I said...blood will always tell." She flicked the wand again, then began to circle Seamus slowly. "So tell me, boy, what does your filthy Muggle father do for a living, that you're so proud of, hmm? Some high-level official, perhaps? A wealthy banker? Come now. I'm sure we're all dying to hear. Tell us why your mother demeaned herself by mixing her blood with such brutish filth."

Neville's mouth twisted. He hated when Alecto lectured, but the way she sounded, parroting things other Death Eaters had probably told her...It was twice as bad when she was mimicking that snooty, stuck up tone.

Seamus was pale, rising fury in his eyes. "Best mailman in his district, right enough."

"A mailman? A servant then. And yet, you seem so very proud of this...servant. Well, I did say blood will tell. And at least, your bastard father seems to know what he's good for." Seamus went white. Alecto smiled. "So tell me, boy, are you like your father? Do you know what you...son of a fallen witch, a blood traitor, and a filthy little serving man, are good for? Do you boy?"

Seamus swallowed. "Reckon I'm good for anything I please. Been a good Quidditch player, I have. And not a bad hand at Charms either."

"Ah...but you are wrong. The son of a blood traitor and a Muggle is good for only one thing, service to his betters. You were born, so that your betters, the Purebloods, would have someone for their convenience. Like that filth you call your father, you were born for nothing more than menial labor, servant to those whose blood entitles them to greater privilege." Alecto sneered the words. Then her eyes flicked around the classroom. She gestured. "You. Longbottom brat."

Neville swallowed hard, but rose to his feet. She gestured again. "Get up here, boy." Neville swallowed again, trying to force away the lump in his throat, and obeyed,moving up to the front of the classroom.

Alecto sneered as he joined them. "You...you are a Pureblood. Little brat, of course, but, no matter. You were with the Potter boy, weren't you?"

Neville tried to force back his rising anger. "Yes."

"Hmmm...well, one does sometimes fall in with a bad influence or two. And the Headmaster says we can't entirely blame you, if you've been brainwashed by fools and reflected, undeserved glory." There was something in the inflection that made him think she was repeating what Snape had said. "We'll teach you better, little brat." She gestured to Seamus. "Now then, tell us what this little filth is good for."

He saw Seamus' eyes, the white face. He knew what Alecto was waiting for, what Seamus was waiting for. He heard McGonagall's lecture on not antagonizing the Carrows in his mind. But...he couldn't say it. Couldn't demean the other boy, who'd been his friend, helped him through his Potions homework, and his Charms. He took a deep breath, looked Alecto in the eyes. "Reckon he's good for whatever he likes. Honestly, I always thought he was pretty decent in Transfiguration, myself."

Alecto's hand snapped out, striking him hard across the cheek. "Ruddy little mouth on you. Tell me, brat..." Her eyes gleamed cold madness. "Did you enjoy our last little discipline session so much? Want another taste?"

Neville felt the blood draining from his face. Alecto snorted, mingled satisfaction and disappointment in her gaze. "Right then. Try again." She gestured to Seamus. "Brat's a servant, proud of his servant father. So then...he must want to be a servant just like him. In that case...give him an order, boy. Put him in his place, since he's so proud of it."

Neville felt his stomach tighten. He was only just recovered. But still... "Right then. Seamus..." he looked at his friend, and let a twinkle of a grin cross his face. "Reckon you should tell Professor Carrow here what you really think of her. And use those terms you told us your dad uses for rainy days."

Seamus' eyes widened. "What, you mean when he calls it the misbegotten offspring of a mud giant and a soaked toad?" Jaws dropped all around the classroom. "Or when he's cursing at the drivers, like, and calls them the witless idiots with less brains than a sack of potatoes?"

"Little brat!" Alecto's hand snapped out, slapping Seamus across the face. "How dare you?" Her nails left red furrows in his cheek.

"Hey!" Neville moved. "You said he had to follow my orders. Well, I gave him an order, and he obeyed it, right enough."

"You...Longbottom." She whirled on him, her wand out. Fury danced in her eyes, then frighteningly, it faded, replaced by cold glee. "Guess you're right, boy. You did give him an order. Since you've proved you can...give another. The more demeaning the better."

"Seamus...return to your seat." Neville smirked. "You're next to Parvati, right?"

"You think a half-breed deserves to sit there?" Alecto's face was twisted. "Put him on the floor, like the inferior he is."

Neville swallowed. "No."

The mad gleam in her eyes intensified. "Defiant again, little boy? You know what it means." She smirked at him. "Detention, Mr. Longbottom. Class dismissed. Except for you." She snickered.

Neville felt cold dread settle in his stomach. He watched as the others rose to file out of the room. He saw Seamus start to step forward, but he shook his head. Seamus didn't have his protection. If he got in the way, he'd really be hurt. Seamus looked as if he wanted to protest, but Lee took his arm, and the two of them left.

There was a moment of silence between Neville and Alecto. He swallowed hard, then lifted his chin defiantly. "Well, get on with it then. Or were you planning on dragging me to the dungeons first?"

Alecto cackled. "Oh, no, boy. I'd like to, but I've got other orders concerning you." She smirked, waving her wand at him. "Headmaster wants to see you. Says you're a bad case, too much influence by little bloody Potter. Says he's got special plans for you, if you can't toe the line. So you and me...we're going up to the Headmaster's office. But you just try and run, boy, just try to get away, and I can do what I like."

He knew she would, too. He took a breath, then turned to the door and stepped out into the corridor, trying to keep his hands from trembling, and hoping he didn't look as shaky as he felt.

He didn't want to face Snape. At thirteen, the man had been his boggart. The man hated him, and always had, and the boggart incident had only been fuel on the flame, never mind the string of accidents in Potions. Facing the Carrows, and hearing about Voldemort, he supposed they were worse. But the man had an acid tongue, and a truly vicious streak.

He heard Alecto snickering behind him, and knew he wasn't managing to hide his fear. Either that, or she was enjoying imagining what Snape was going to do to him. She'd probably seen the things he was capable of, in their little Death Eater meetings.

They reached the Headmaster's office, went up the spiral staircase. Alecto knocked sharply on the door. "Got something for you, Headmaster Snape."

The door swung open, to reveal Snape settled at the Headmaster's desk. Neville fought a wave of sickness and rage crashing through him. It was just wrong, to see him there, where Dumbledore belonged. His hands clenched, but he knew even trying to do something would be foolish. There was no way he'd succeed.

Alecto shoved him forward at wand-point. "Brought you Longbottom. He defied me in class, mouthed off. Tried to incite the class to disobedience. You said you wanted to handle him personally, next time he got out of line."

Snape rose, lazily, menacingly. "So I did. Very well. You may go, Alecto."

She stiffened a bit. "Brat disrespected me. And I'm part of the Discipline Team. I've got a right..."

"You have all the rights the Dark Lord and I decide to grant you, Alecto." Snape's voice was smooth, and cold. "And as such, I am perfectly within my rights to tell you that I will handle it, alone."

"Boy's a problem, Snape. You ought to..."

"Headmaster Snape." He interrupted her sharply, his black eyes snapping. "And do not presume to tell me what I ought to do, Alecto. I am aware that Mr. Longbottom, like most of his housemates, has a problem with following orders. I am aware that he has been woefully infected by Potter's sense of foolish, arrogant defiance. However, I am also aware that you cannot seem to handle the matter without nearly killing the boy. Which, need I remind you, is a direct violation of the Dark Lord's orders."

Alecto grimaced. "Think you can do better then?"

"Well, I certainly intend to try." Snape's mouth curved in a cold sneer. "At the very least, I cannot do worse. All that effort, and the boy still defies you a mere two weeks later. Rather...embarrassing, wouldn't you say?" He shook his head. "I suggest you get back to your duties, and leave Longbottom and his foolishness to me."

Alecto scowled. "Right then. Wish you the joy of the brat." Then she turned and vanished through the door, leaving the two of them alone.

There was silence for a long moment, then Snape moved forward, stalking toward Neville, his movement menacing, reminiscent of the slow predatory glide that had terrified Neville so often in Potions, and the one year of Defense Against the Dark Arts the man had taught. "Mr. Longbottom."

Neville stiffened at the low, dangerous tone of Snape's voice. He'd heard that tone before. Snape was in a nasty mood. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to respond or not. Fortunately Snape spoke again before he could decide.

"Eighteen days ago, I was informed that you had been transferred to the Hospital Wing, with severe injuries. Apparently, not severe enough to deter your unfortunate desire to emulate Potter and his arrogant stupidity." Snape made a low sound of derision. "Neville Longbottom. Hogwarts' new...hero. As recklessly stupid and foolish as the last." He stepped in front of him. "You should be aware, antagonizing a teacher is grounds, of course, for detention, or even...expulsion."

Neville swallowed hard. Snape was really trying to intimidate him. "Well, go on then. Throw me out."

"As much as I would find personal enjoyment in the action, I fear not." A cold sneer lit Snape's face, a vindictive look that made Alecto Carrow seem tame by comparison. "No doubt, that would simply leave you to create more havoc, outside of school. Indeed, since you seem intent on so recklessly imitating Potter..." He spit the last word like acid. "I have no doubt that, like Potter, you will endeavor to embroil as many of your classmates as possible in your stupidity, even if I throw you off campus."

"Fine. Punish me then." Neville swallowed against the dryness in his mouth, and the faint quiver in his voice. "Use the Cruciatus, or whatever you prefer." He swallowed again, forcing up a measure of defiance. "Go on then. Bet you know loads of curses. Or maybe you'd just like to off me now, like Dumbledore."

Snape went absolutely white, hands clenching into fists. He even took one quick step forward, as if to strike him. Neville tried not to flinch, but Snape stopped, visibly restraining himself. He took a deep breath. When he spoke next his voice was low, soft, deadly. The control in it was frightening, especially with the fury in his eyes.

"While, it is true that I am...quite adequately versed in spell casting, I sincerely doubt I would find much joy in practicing on a child barely competent enough to hold his wand without dropping it. Nor do I dare entertain the hope that you would actually learn anything from the experience, considering your recent experience with the Carrows, and your presence before me at this time. Otherwise, you may be sure, I would take full advantage of the situation." There was something about the way he said that, the low, silky threatening tone, that made Neville's hair stand on end.

Satisfaction snapped in the black eyes, but Snape kept speaking as if he hadn't noticed. "Nor can I simply rid myself of your presence, tempting though the idea is. The Dark Lord has, regrettably, ordered that Purebloods such as yourself remain relatively unharmed. And as I've already stated, since letting you off campus would only give you the opportunity to create more havoc, I've no choice but to keep you where I can keep an eye on you, to prevent as much adolescent idiocy as I can manage."

Silence fell between them. Neville shifted his weight, waiting for Snape to deliver his doom. Snape didn't speak, simply watched him. The tension in the room mounted, and finally Neville couldn't handle it anymore. "So...what are you going to do with me, then?"

"Since conventional means of discipline clearly have no effect, whatsoever...I suppose I'll have to resort to other methods." Snape studied him a moment, then gestured curtly. "You will come with me."

He thought about refusing, then he saw the dangerous expression in Snape's eyes, the still roiling fury there. He gulped, then followed the black-clad form out of the Headmaster's office.

Snape led him down, then down, to the level of the dungeons and the potions classrooms. He half expected Snape to lead him to Potions, to make him scrub cauldrons or prepare disgusting ingredients. Unpleasant, but he could live with it. Then Snape turned down a different hallway, into a part of the dungeons he'd never been in before. He swallowed hard, wondering if the man was going to simply chain him down here and leave him.

Snape stopped before a door, then gestured to the wall. "Stand there. Do Not Move." The words seemed ground out between clenched teeth. The man threw open the door, allowing him a glimpse of what looked like a small lab, then slammed it behind him. Neville considered making a break for it. But this far into the dungeons, he'd likely encounter Slytherins, or the Carrows, before he got anywhere safe. Snape was clearly in a terrible mood, but at least he hadn't tried to curse him into unconsciousness yet.

There was a muffled sound inside the room, and Neville shivered, wondering what the hell Snape was planning for him. He heard a few more noises, then Snape opened the door again. He looked slightly calmer, though still clearly angry. "Inside."

Neville stepped into the room, then stopped, staring in shock. It was clearly a potions lab, but it looked like the worst disaster he'd ever had, and then some. Various plants, dirt and other things were all over the floor. The bookshelves, and storage shelves were emptied, their contents distributed about the room. Some of the containers had broken, leaving glass shards littered everywhere, and little piles of things, or puddles of liquid. He'd blown up cauldrons without having this much mess and damage created.

"Wand, Mr. Longbottom. And do not make me Disarm you for it, or I shall make your punishment far worse." Snape's voice was still that soft, controlled violence. Neville hesitated, then removed his wand from his pocket, watching warily as he handed it over. He half expected Snape to snap it in a fit of temper, but the man simply tucked it out of sight in his robes. Then Snape withdrew his own wand, and made a few quick gestures.

A bucket appeared, as well as a mop, a broom, a dustpan, and several rags. Neville blinked. "Sir?"

"For your detention, Mr. Longbottom, you will clean this entire room, and restore it to pristine condition...without magic." He made another gesture, and a list appeared. Neville glanced at it, his jaw dropping when he saw the list of things he was expected to do. Clean the light fixtures. Dust and tidy the shelves. Wipe down the table and the counters, and scrub them. Sweep, mop and dry the floor. He looked around the room. The floor alone would probably take the better part of an hour.

Snape continued. "You will remain here until everything is finished to my satisfaction. Anything you do not complete adequately you will do over, until I declare it meets my standards."

Neville flushed. "Sir...I've homework."

Snape raised an eyebrow, a cold sneer on his features. "Indeed. Then I suggest you work quickly. If such a thing is possible. You will not leave this room until you are finished with your task. Or until you have class, on Monday. Should you not be finished then, you will be required to return to complete the job."

"You're going to starve me then?" Neville swallowed.

Snape considered him, that cool, mocking look still on his face. The color, what little of it he ever had, was beginning to reappear on the thin face. "Tempting as the idea is, no doubt it would result in your fainting on my floor. Your meals will be delivered. However, you should be advised that you will be responsible for cleaning up after yourself."

Neville flushed at the tone, the implied insult to his manners. He glanced about again. "Sir, there's glass."

"Indeed. Then you shall simply have to exercise a bit of caution." Snape leaned against the doorway. "I suggest you get started. I assure you, I've no wish to spend any longer in your company than I must."

Neville felt his face flush in anger and embarrassment. Snape always could make him feel like a useless idiot. "Why'd you mess this place up then, sir?" He'd seen a glimpse of the room when Snape had entered and it hadn't looked like a disaster area then. He was pretty sure the muffled noises he'd heard had been Snape, trashing the place.

Snape moved forward, quick, silent, and menacing, until he was barely an inch away. "Perhaps, because you need a lesson in humility, Mr. Longbottom. And I believe a little bit of manual labor is a great encourager of such lessons. And...while you are thus engaged, perhaps you would care to ruminate on the frustration and annoyance that being forced to clean up after foolish, idiotic, unnecessary messes can engender." The last words were hissed in his ear. Then Snape jerked away and moved back to the wall, leaning against it once more.

Neville looked at the room, then at the cleaning supplies Snape had conjured. He thought about defying the man but...there was something about the fury that still shadowed his eyes that suggested he would do well not to antagonize the older man. He already knew Snape was capable of a great many things, and he didn't dare push the Headmaster past his limits. Even if Voldemort had ordered him to be left alive. He took a breath, looked back at the list of tasks, then grabbed the bucket and got to work.

Author's Note: So...another confrontation. As for how it's going to go...wait and see. I'll try not to be evil and make you wait too long.