A/N: Welcome to Part 2 of The Raven and the Blade! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. It all belongs to JKR.


Part 2: The Return

The shivering, bleeding form of an innocent child stared up him, the wide brown eyes betraying the memories of horrors witnessed too young. Neville felt his heart clench as he knelt beside the boy, no older than he was when he started here, and gritted his teeth. No child should have to spend part of their first year at Hogwarts living in terror, locked in the dungeon for the smallest slight, wondering if they would be left to die.

Neville had been sent down here by Amycus to torture these younger students, all of whom had received detention. Gone where the days of writing lines, cleaning vials, or even, once, answering fan mail. These were the darkest days of Hogwarts school, where children faced the punishment of being deprived of sustenance, tortured, and then tortured even more, often at the hands of different people.

Whimpering, the child glanced at the Stunned form beside Neville, but the man waved it away. "Don't mind him," he whispered, attempting a kind smile, "are you all right?"

Shakily, the child nodded, and Neville shoved the body of the Slytherin student aside—he didn't remember his name, only that he was too eager to come down here to torture others—and fit his crude key into the lock of the boy's manacles. The shackles were to ensure that no child would escape the punishing spell, or occasional physical beating that accompanied detention.

The key had come from a surprising place: Argus Filch. Despite his delight at the idea of torturing students during Umbridge's reign, Neville had been surprised to find that Filch could not stomach the violence shown by the Carrows. The key had been shoved into Neville's hand earlier that day by a nervous Filch, who mumbled, "Use it to get those little 'uns out of the dungeons," and hurried limped away, lest he be spotted performing a sympathetic action.

Neville made quick work of the boy's chains, and the child scrambled forward, surprisingly, into Neville's arms. "Shhh," he murmured, holding the boy as he shook with silent sobs, his tears wetting the man's shoulder. "It's all right, you're safe."

"Go wait by the door, okay?" Neville gave the boy a gentle shove, and went to work on the other students, all eagerly awaiting emancipation.

It nearly broke his heart to see the simple joy that radiated from their expression as they freed them. No human deserved to be locked in chains, and even a few hours had left some listless, drowned by the dark around them.

Ushering them ahead of him, Neville was halfway up the stairs when he froze. The heat suddenly radiating from his pocket could on be one thing: the DA Galleon that all members of Dumbledore's Army still kept.

"Quickly, quickly," he murmured, shepherding his small flock down the corridors, all nerves on alert for approaching footsteps and his wand held at the ready.

He had chosen the right time: There was rarely anyone awake in the wee hours of the morning. It was the reason that Neville had elected to go alone: one student out in the halls would not arouse suspicion, but two would elicit an investigation.

With the Galleon burning a hole in his pocket, Neville abandoned his original plan to take each student back to their respective tower. Instead, they would all go to the Room of Requirement, which he knew would provide the security these young children desperately needed.

Obedient and more than eager to follow the whims of their savior, the students trailed after him like a long line of threstral foals, eyes darting nervously, taking in the empty corridors, trembling with fear and adrenaline.

Pushing open the doors of the Room of Requirement, Neville noticed all visibly relax at the sight of the warm light that poured over them. Neville did not have to prompt them to enter the golden room; they raced forward as if it promised all the sweets in Honeydukes', and Neville followed them in, closing the door behind him.

"Now, which house do you belong to?"

Predictably, none of the battered students were from Slytherin, and Neville found that they were more than willing to follow an older house member to their respective corners, to be given a hammock and allowed to drift into an exhausted sleep.

Once they had all been settled, Neville located Ernie MacMillan, noticing that Seamus was conspicuously absent. Raising his Galleon in silent answer to Ernie's unspoken question, Neville frowned at the warm coin, glowing in his palm.

"Where's Seamus?"

Ernie shrugged. "Dunno. I was hoping you would know, actually. All the DA members left at Hogwarts are here, but Seamus is missing. Did he say what this meeting was about?"

Neville shook his head, mystified. "I have no idea."

In answer, the wooden doors leading to the darkened corridors creaked open, and Neville found himself turning to scrutinize the two figures that stood framed there.

The first was clearly Seamus, who strode forward, his dark hair windswept and looking for all the world as if he had just come back from a lovely afternoon jaunt, no matter that it was early in the morning.

The other…Neville found his breath catching in his throat. He knew that figure. But how…?

Luna Lovegood stepped into the warm Room of Requirement, a serene smile gracing her lips. She appeared to be as calm and unsurprised as ever, as if she had just stepped of the room, and hadn't been missing from Hogwarts for the last several months, her location unknown.

"Hello, all!" Seamus called cheerfully, bouncing into the room. "I've brought you a surprise!"

As Luna stepped further into the room, the door closing behind her, Neville saw that the war had not left her unscathed. Small scratches decorated her cheeks and forehead, and the purple-yellow of a fading black eye glistened from beneath her left eye. The dress she wore had seen better days, as it was tattered about the edges, and her blonde hair had been pulled from her braid, frizzing around her head in a tangled knot.

However, her silver eyes still radiated the same truth and kindness, and Neville found himself drawn forward, needing to confirm that she was the same old Luna, that the war had not taken her gentle and loving spirit from her.

The relief he felt when her silver eyes met his took his breath away, and his heart raced as she smiled up at him. "Hello, Neville. It's nice to see you again. Did you have a good holiday?"

At her soft voice, Neville reached forward to gather her slim form in his arms, feeling himself relax for the first time in months. He gave a watery chuckle at her inquiry as to his holiday, but couldn't help the smile that blossomed. Wherever she had been, it had failed to change her. He didn't realize how grateful he was that she was had not been altered entirely by the war raging around them. He needed someone to be his constant, and unknowingly, he had somehow chosen Luna. Perhaps it was merely her serene manner, but he derived some calm from her presence that he could not find anywhere else.

"As much as I like you, Neville," came a voice muffled in his chest, "I would like to greet my other friends now."

"Oh, of course." Neville hastily released her, pausing only for a moment to brush the hair from her eyes before moving away. Her skin was soft against his fingertips, and Neville watched her move into the eagerly waiting crowd of students, pleased to see that wherever she had been, she had not been starved.

Grabbing a beaming Seamus by the collar, Neville dragged his friend into a corner. "How did you find her?"

Seamus grinned, Luna's appearance bringing out better spirits than Neville had seen in months. It was amazing what a little hope would do for morale. "A call when out on the radio last night," he said cheerfully. "It was the oldest Weasley, Bill, saying that he had the moon and would really like to put her back where she belonged. Utter nonsense to anyone listening, but it made perfect sense to me."

"But how did you get here?" Neville demanded. "Did she come to you?"

"No," Seamus shook his head, watching as Luna was accepted back into the remnants of her house, Cho Chang's dark hair contrasting with Luna's pale locks. "I snuck out and found a thestral, nearly got caught by dementors first, and then I flew to Shell Cottage. The safe house," he added at Neville's curious glance. As Neville turned back to watch Luna, Seamus continued.

"Bill's wife wanted her to stay, insisting that she wasn't done healing, but Luna told her that she would return to Hogwarts. She was right insistent. That's the fiercest I've ever seen her."

"Luna has a mind of her own," Neville murmured absently, watching with an affectionate smile as the woman they were discussing spun in a happy, dizzy circle, her face alight with joy.

Seamus chuckled. "She does, mate, I will agree with you on that one. She's got a spirit that is hidden by that calm mask of hers."

"Excuse me, will you?" Neville muttered, clearly not paying attention to word Seamus had been saying. He strode through the mass of students, the tallest one there and easy to spot. Seamus watched with amusement as the dark head of his friend bent towards the pale one of the prodigal, and the two seemed to be absorbed in each other, despite Luna's rapid conversation with another Ravenclaw girl moments before.


"You were where?" Neville felt his blood run cold at Luna's story, and he gazed down at her, disbelieving. "All this time, we thought you were in Azkaban! If I had known you were at Malfoy Manor, I would have come to get you!"

"That wouldn't have been wise," Luna observed, her silver eyes shading to gray as she remembered her incarceration. "Bellatrix is a powerful witch, and she was there almost all the time. Anyone trying to rescue me probably would have died."

Shaking his head in frustration, Neville squeezed her hand. "How long were you there?"

"I don't know, really," Luna mused, her voice taking on the dreamy quality that he knew so well. "I was busy taking care of Mr. Ollivander, you know, and he was so old and frail that at first I thought he was infected with—"

Cutting off what was sure to be Luna's speculation on what strange creature had infected the renowned wand-maker, Neville distracted her with another question.

"Did they hurt you, Luna?"

"No," Luna said firmly, her blond hair swinging against her cheeks with the motion. "No, only the beating they gave me after I dared to protest their treatment of Mr. Ollivander. It isn't right that they treat an old man so."

"They beat you?" Neville growled, his hands curling into fists, wishing he could seek retribution on the men that had done that to her. "Where are you hurt?"

Luna gently touched her cheekbone, and Neville's hand followed her motion, brushing against her soft cheek again before lightly touching the fading bruise. Luna flinched at the faint pressure, and Neville quickly removed his hand, loath to cause her any more pain.

"That is the only place I still feel pain," Luna murmured. "There were some bruises, but they've faded now."

Neville let out a rushed breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, relief swamping him and making him nearly giddy.

"I'm glad you're all right," he whispered, lacing her fingers through his and gently squeezing.

Luna treated him to her serene smile, as if all was right in her world. "I'm glad to be back," she responded, her silver eyes shining as brightly as the celestial body she was named for.

As she attempted to smother a yawn, Neville reluctantly released her hand, realizing that it was now close to dawn, and they needed to sleep. The approaching day would only bring more tribulations.

But Neville didn't want to think about the crumbling school beyond these walls, or the poison the Carrows seemed determined to drip into their minds day by day. At this moment, Neville only wanted to enjoy these moments spent with his rescued friend, the woman he thought he might never see again.

"Good night, Neville." Her sweet voice jolted him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see her standing over him, ready to retire to her hammock.

Standing as well, Neville drew her in for another hug. She came willingly into his embrace, nestling against his chest with a trust that was so complete that Neville found his throat constrict. The faith that she placed in him with that gesture should have burdened him, as it did when he found the others looking to him for advice. Instead, Luna's faith was a gentle balm, a silent reminder of the fact that the entire world was not completely consumed by evil. There was still good to be found, even in the darkest corners of the world, where evil seemed to reign. Each person should cling to a light, a hope that carries them through the storms of life, and Neville had found his in Luna Lovegood.

"Good night, Luna," he whispered into her downy hair, finally releasing her. She smiled up at him, seemingly unaware of the epiphany he had just experienced.

Hope was an extraordinary thing, Neville Longbottom concluded as he turned towards the Gryffindor hangings, ready for sleep. The world could use a lot more of it.