Here you go, chapter seven, the final one! I (finally) realized that I haven't really given props to JKR or the great Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for taking passages and quotes from their books. Well, I'm doing it now, props to JKR and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle! Please leave a review at the door.
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It may be remembered that after my start in private practice, and my subsequent marriage, the very intimate relations which had existed between Harry and myself became to some extent modified. He still came to me from time to time when he desired a companion in his investigations, but these occasions grew more and more seldom, until I find that in the year 2008 there were only three cases of which I retain any record. One of these cases was the curious case of The Missing Thumb.
I had just performed a check-up on Mr. Ambrosius Flume, who owns Honeydukes in Hogsmeade, when my trusted friend, Sir Harry Potter, came barging into my office one evening, wearing an expression
A knock forced Neville to lift his quill from his parchment and say, "Come in," as he sat in his study in the home that belonged to him and his beloved wife, Hannah. The door opened, and Hannah poked her head inside, looking just as beautiful as she had looked these last three years.
"Neville, Harry is here to see you," she said, smiling, a smile that Neville returned.
"Well, by all means, send him in," he said, and Hannah opened the door further, allowing the tall and gangly Harry to step inside, looking worse than ever. He truly had been using himself up more and more freely. He looked like he hadn't eaten for days, and knowing Harry, he probably hadn't.
"Good evening, Neville," Harry greeted happily, as if he couldn't have seen a more pleasant sight in his life. "It is nice to finally see a friendly face, aside from Fleur's. Might I trouble you for a cigar?"
He gestured for the cigar case on Neville's desk, and at Neville's nod, he opened it and took out a cigar, fishing a snipper out of his pocket.
"You look tired, Harry," Neville said, striking a match and lighting Harry's cigar.
"Work," Harry answered as he started pacing around the scarcely decorated study. Neville wasn't used to visitors, so his study was merely filled with bookcases, a desk, his chair, and a single couch. "I have been working hard, trying to find the mysterious Mr. Moriarty."
"More poison?" Neville asked, and Harry nodded.
"Oh yes. Every high-ranking member of Moriarty's crime syndicate carries with them a vial of poison, which they drink without hesitation whenever there is no chance to escape," he said, sounding frustrated. "It irks me, Neville. It irks me something fierce. His games, his murders, his thefts, all crimes that I can solve. I can solve the crime, I can catch the criminal, but I can never reach the man behind the scenes!"
"I assume you didn't just come here to complain?" Neville guessed, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"Of course not," Harry said, shaking his head. "This is merely exchanging pleasantries."
"Most people talk about the weather and such, Harry Potter complains about cases," Neville said with an amused shake of his head, going back to his writing. Sensing Harry's gaze upon him, he explained, "I am currently writing down the case of The Missing Thumb, our last case together."
"Last?" Harry asked, scoffing. "Surely not. It is always a pleasure for me to have you come along on the cases and take notes, although you may wish to tone down-"
"The romanticism, I know, but this is a novel of sorts, Harry, something for people to read and enjoy, not read and analyze," Neville interrupted.
"Yes, well, in any case, I don't want you to think that I find your presence to be a nuisance, Neville," Harry said. "I've just believed that you might be too busy, being married, and having your own private practice. I didn't want to be a bother."
"A bother?" Neville asked as he spun on his chair to look at Harry, who had taken a seat on the couch across the room. "My dear Harry, you would never be a bother to me. I find our cases together to be exciting, not to mention that I find your methods to always be interesting."
Harry sat in silence, merely puffing on his cigar as he observed Neville, who felt very exposed. From Harry, a Legilimens with a great eye for details, he knew that he could hold no secrets. Therefore, it always unnerved him a bit when he was the one being observed by Harry.
"When is she due?" Harry asked suddenly. Neville blinked.
"Pardon?"
"Hannah. When is the baby due to arrive?"
"Oh!" Neville said, a smile immediately appearing on his face. "April. If it's a boy, we're going to name him Harry."
Harry's eyes widened considerably at that.
"Really?"
"Really."
"I'm honored."
"I would have told you, but I wasn't sure where you were. The last time I went to see you, you weren't home," Neville said. "Neither were you home the last five times I was there."
"Fleur and I went to France," Harry said. "Her father needed my help. I am bound by a magical oath not to talk about it for a while, so don't ask me what it was."
Neville nodded immediately. He knew how important it was for some politicians to keep things quiet.
"You'll be godfather?" Neville asked, making Harry blink in surprise.
"I..." He looked too surprised to speak properly. "My dear Neville, I would be honored. You will, if I ever have a child?"
"I would be equally honored, my friend."
The two smiled at each other, then sat in silence. Neville tried to say something, but couldn't think of anything. So, he steered the conversation back to where it started.
"So, any new messages from Moriarty?"
"Nothing," Harry said, shaking his head. "Not a word since the letter three years ago, which means that I haven't gotten a single step closer to uncovering... his... identity..."
Harry trailed off as he seemed to realize something. He rubbed his neck and started moving his mouth, but no words came out. Neville thought he could see his friend mouthing "I am" to himself.
Then, Harry shot to his feet, staring intently at Neville.
"Neville, you said you find our adventures interesting, yes?"
"Of course," Neville said with a nod.
"Well then, how would you like to come with me to see something very interesting?"
–
With a crack like a gunshot, Neville and Harry appeared on the square outside number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry looked very intently at the building, looking like he was thinking hard.
"Of course, that would give him everything he'd need... And he'd be able to get information from the Death Eaters..."
It clicked for Neville.
"You've figured out who he is?"
"Yes, I believe I have," Harry said with a nod, moving over to the building. His long legs carried him fast across the street, and Neville almost had to break into a jog to keep up. "It was so simply. How didn't I see it before?"
When they reached the door, Harry whipped out his wand and tapped it once. The door swung open, and the two stepped into the dimly lit hallway, heading straight for the stairs leading down to the kitchen, Harry slamming open the door.
Immediately, Neville and Harry found themselves staring at the tips of a good ten wands, at least, as every Order member that had been in the meeting they interrupted had reacted quickly to the disturbance.
"Good evening," Harry said pleasantly.
Dumbledore was the first to lower his wand. His face, which had been serious, broke into a brilliant smile.
"Harry! Neville! How good to see you two! But please, in the future, do try to knock?"
"No time for knocking, Professor," Harry said as the others lowered their wands. "We just came here to sit in on one of your meetings. You know, see what it is you're doing. You said the invitation was open, after all?"
"Of course, of course," Dumbledore said, waving his wand and making two chair appear out of thin air, setting down at the table.
"Oh," Harry said as he grabbed his chair and pulled it into the corner of the kitchen, placing him behind Dumbledore to the right, "if you don't mind, I'll sit here. Neville," he said and gestured for the corner to Dumbledore's left. Neville nodded and grabbed his chair, moving it to the corned and sitting down.
"Why sit there, boys?" Dumbledore asked, blinking in amused surprise, only for Harry to shrug.
"I merely wish to observe, not interact," Harry said simply and reached into his pocket, taking out his black clay pipe and lighting it with his wand. "Please, do continue."
"Well," a tall, red-haired man with his hair tied up into a ponytail said, clearing his throat, "as I was saying, Ragnok..."
The meeting was, to Neville, very boring. They talked and talked about nothing but pointless things, in Neville's opinion. They talked about what kind of damage Voldemort had done, what kind of forces he had, what could be done, and what would be done. Neville found himself on the verge of nodding off several times, but whenever he looked to his companion, he found him staring intently at the Order members. He obviously wasn't listening to what they were saying, but instead studying each and every person gathered around the table.
"You look tired," Sirius said once the meeting was over, moving over to Harry, who hummed. "Been working too hard lately, have you?"
"A bit," Harry said with a nod, rising from his chair and stretching as Neville moved over.
"Well, come on, I'll take you to Rosmerta, buy you a pint," Sirius said, patting Harry on the shoulder. Just then, however, Dumbledore came walking over.
"So, what did you boys think? It was not our most interesting meeting ever, but still..."
"Oh, it's nothing for me," Harry said with a shake of his head. "But thank you, Professor, for letting us sit in."
"Yes, thank you, Professor," Neville said, nodding.
–
"Aah," Sirius sighed in relief as he came out of the Three Broomsticks with Neville and Harry. "Oh, that tasted great."
"Agreed," Harry said, wrapping his coat tighter around himself against the chill.
"So, you think this Moriarty is someone in the Order?" Sirius asked, and Harry shook his head.
"I don't think he is someone in the Order, Sirius. I know he is someone in the Order."
Sirius looked thoughtful as he walked, and Neville spoke up.
"It's Snape, isn't it?"
"Snape!" Sirius said, stopping suddenly and spinning around to look at Harry, who looked a bit smug. "Of course it was Snape! Who else could possibly know you, the Order's plans, and Voldemort's plans?"
"Yes, there is Snape," Harry said, nodding. "Then there's someone else..."
"Who?" Neville asked.
In response, Harry drew his gun from out of his coat and pressed it against Sirius' chest.
"Sirius Black has been dead for a long time, hasn't he?" Harry asked, making Neville and Sirius' eyes widen.
"Harry, what-" Neville started, but Harry held up his hand and tapped the barrel of his gun against Sirius' chest, and Neville could hear a distinct clinking sound.
"You had him in your grasp ever since he touched that locket, didn't you, Riddle?" Harry asked, making Neville's eyes widen even further. Sirius' surprised look was replaced by a sinister smile, his eyes flashing red.
"At last. I thought you would never figure it out, even with the obvious clue I left in the last letter.
"A Riddle I couldn't solve, yes, that's how I figured it out. But how? It took months for Ginny Weasley to succumb to the influence of your diary. How could you take over my godfather?"
"Oh, it was very easy," Riddle said with a chuckle. "Azkaban had left his mind rather fragile, and it was easy to get a grip on him when he first touched the locket."
"How cruel of you," Harry said emotionlessly, and Riddle shrugged.
"Well, if you know about the locket, you know it's a Horcrux," Riddle, or Moriarty, said, still smirking sinisterly. "I cannot die. Only something that completely destroys it can kill a Horcrux."
"Yes, I know," Harry said with a nod. "Like goblin-silver bullets dipped in Basilisk venom."
Riddle's eyes only had a nanosecond to react, before a boom rang out, echoing through Hogsmeade. Black blood like tar blossomed from Sirius' chest as he stumbled backward, letting out a terrifying scream of pain and dropping to his knees.
People were coming out from the buildings all around them to see how Sirius' skin started to peel, showing that young, seventeen-year old Riddle from the memory Harry had acquired from Morfin Gaunt and showed Neville, who felt sick to his stomach as he watched the body collapse to the ground, dead.
"And so, another Horcrux is destroyed, the one I thought didn't exist..." Harry muttered as he lowered his revolver, holstering it again. He closed his eyes for a few moments, then opened them and looked at Neville. "My dear Neville, I wish to be alone right now. Would you be opposed to going home?"
"Are..." Neville swallowed, glancing down at the body. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I'll be fine. I just... I just have a lot to take in. And I wouldn't want you to be held up by the Aurors, questioned about things you didn't even know about, so go on."
Neville gulped and nodded, before Apparating away.
–
It is with a heavy heart that I take up my quill to write these the last words in which I shall ever record the singular gifts by which my friend Mr. Harry Potter was distinguished. In an incoherent and, as I deeply feel, an entirely inadequate fashion, I have endeavored to give some account of my strange experiences in his company from the "Man with Two Faces," up to the time of his interference in the matter of the "Headless Case," an interference which had the unquestionable effect of preventing a serious international complication. It was my intention to have stopped there, and to have said nothing of that event which has created a void in my life which the lapse of two years has done little to fill.
My hand has been forced, however, by the recent letters in which many fools defend the memory of their former master, and I have no choice but to lay the facts before the public exactly as they occurred. I alone know the absolute truth of the matter, and I am satisfied that the time has come when no good purpose is to be served by its suppression. As far as I know, there have been only three accounts in the public press: that in the Journal de Genève on May 6th, 2008, the Reuter's dispatch in the English papers on May 7th, and finally the recent letters to which I have alluded. Of these the first and second were extremely condensed, while the last is, as I shall now show, an absolute perversion of the facts. It lies with me to tell for the first time what really took place between Lord Voldemort and Mr. Harry Potter.
Neville Longbottom
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"Well, I'd say you shouldn't work so hard for a while, but that would be like telling a bird not to fly," Neville said as he finished his examination of Harry, who chuckled and put his voluminous shirt back on.
"Yes, well-"
The door to Neville's old bedroom was suddenly opened, and Fleur strode out of it, looking beautiful as ever. Were Neville not a married man...
"Oh, good afternoon, Neville, I zought I 'eard you come in earlier," she said pleasantly, striding over to Harry and giving him a kiss. "I will be going shopping, 'Arry."
"Hm, yes..." Harry said. Once she had left the room, Harry changed the subject. "Any word from Hermione?"
"I got a letter the other day," Neville said, sitting down in his usual armchair, Harry doing the same. "Seems she and Krum have gone to Africa, and together they will be studying Nundu, if they can find one."
"Twelve years, she's been gone now," Harry said, humming. "An awful long time for a trip around the world, don't you think? It's not that big."
"Still with all your tools and gifts, you are still unable to recognize a woman in love," Neville said with an amused laugh.
"I would, but she never sends me any letters," Harry said grumpily.
"Maybe she thinks you won't read them? That's why she sends them to me."
"She didn't show up to your wedding."
"Nor will she show up to yours," Neville said with a shrug. "But she sent me a card, and I am sure she will send you one, too. More cases?"
He was gesturing for a pile of letters on Harry's desk. Harry just nodded and lit his pipe. Neville moved over to the desk and picked them up. They were all opened, so Harry had probably solved them already.
"Mr. Lewis wants to find out if his wife is cheating on him..." he muttered, rifling through the letters. "Mrs. Adams wants to find her diamond ring... No wonder you're bored."
Harry hummed in agreement.
"Now, come on, we have to get you some new clothes for your wedding," Neville said, setting the letters back down on the desk as Harry nodded.
"Still can't really believe I'm going to be married..." he muttered, and Neville chuckled, patting him on the back.
"I had the same feeling. But if you don't feel ready for it, why insist on doing it now, and not after you defeat Voldemort?"
Harry shrugged. "It just felt better doing it before."
–
"Why here?" I asked my friend over the wind as we stood, staring down into the English Channel from on top of the Cliffs of Dover. Harry merely shrugged.
"Perhaps he thought it a good place for a final confrontation?" he suggested. "I don't know, Neville, but the message was quite clear."
"And why do you need me here? I'm not strong enough to take on Voldemort," I shamefully admitted. For so long, I had stood by his side, and now, here, at the end of it all, I would be of no use.
Harry laughed.
"For if he brings his little Death Eaters, of course," he said, sounding almost happy, but I thought I could hear what sounded like resignation in his voice. Then, he blinked. "He's coming. Hide, Neville!"
I immediately turned and ran to hide behind a rock, just as the sound of Apparition was heard.
"This is the strangest place you picked for a final confrontation, don't you think?" Harry asked, his hands behind his back. He looked to the side to see Lord Voldemort standing there, his face devoid of emotion.
"Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived..." Voldemort hissed, his blood-red eyes narrowed. "You look old."
"Stress can do that to you," Harry admitted with a nod and a yawn.
Voldemort's wand was up in a flash, as was Harry's blocking Voldemort's spell and sending it back to the sender, who dodged to the side. The two engaged in what they both knew would be their final battle, throwing spell after spell at each other, both of them blocking or dodging the other's spells and curses.
It was obvious that they were both each other's equal, as I had never before seen a duel such as this. Both of them looked remarkably calm, yet they both threw spells that sent shivers down my spine, even though I was a great distance away. They appeared to be talking to each other during their duel, but due to the crashes and bangs around them coming from stray spells, I was unable to hear what they were saying. Whatever it was, however, it seemed to enrage Lord Voldemort, who attacked with even more speed, speed matched easily by Harry.
A Killing Curse whizzed by my ear, and I found myself ducking low behind my cover as the two did battle. When I chanced a glance at the two duelists, I saw a smirk on my friend's face as a large chunk of the cliff was blown off. I knew he had a plan, as I had seen that smirk many times, but I would have given everything I had to know what that plan was, so that I may have stopped it.
The spells of the two duelists locked with each other, creating a glowing, dripping chain of magic that linked them together, and when Harry broke it, in the silence, even from so far away, I heard what he said, and I rose from my spot and ran toward him.
"And so, we reach our ends, Tom!"
As I ran toward Harry, Harry ran toward Voldemort. Only now did I realize what Harry had done. All of this had been his plan. The duel had maneuvered Voldemort to the side of the cliff, the cases he solved, the people he had arrested, it was all to irritate the Dark Lord to the point of showing himself, and now, Harry did what he believed was the best thing for him to do...
He tackled the Dark Lord Voldemort over the cliff, and sent them both plummeting to their deaths.
By the time I reached the edge of the cliff, I looked over the edge and saw something that sickens me to this day. The water was colored red with blood. Voldemort's broken body lay splattered against a particularly jagged rock, but Harry's body was nowhere to be seen.
When the Aurors removed the body later that day, rejoicing, I was the only one who stayed and investigated the scene. I saw no sign of Harry, but in the Channel... There was a great chance that his body had been washed away, but if he survived, surely, he would have shown up at his flat, lit his pipe, and told me something along the lines of, "Don't I always survive, my dear Neville?"
Three years, it has been since that day, and still, I haven't seen my friend, which leads me to the conclusion that he truly is dead... It saddens me, but that's the way it is. Harry must have been dead, for Voldemort was dead as well...
Fleur has been grieving as well, more than any of us. However, Harry left something behind, a legacy, in young Harry Potter the Second, who is now approaching his third birthday. It is my greatest hope that I, as godfather, will be able to guide and help my godson as his father helped and guided me, for I dare not even imagine how my life would have looked had I not met Harry Potter on that train ride all those years ago...
This is the last book written by Neville Longbottom, in loving memory of Harry James Potter, 1980 – 2010. He lived a full and happy life, doing what he did best.
Neville put his quill down and smiled down at the parchment on his desk. He quickly put on his tweed jacket and his coat and hat and moved out of the room. As he stepped out of his door, he looked down the street of the Leaky Cauldron, which Hannah had taken over, an in which they now lived, where Neville also had his private practice. His eyes landed on 221B Diagon Alley, his mind drifting back to all the things he had gone through with the man who made him who he was.
With a crack, he disappeared, and reappeared in the dark and snowy graveyard of Godric's Hollow, leaving obvious tracks of having apparated there, something Harry would have noticed in a flash.
Speaking of which... Neville moved through the graveyard until he reached the tombstone he was looking for. There, between the tombstone of James and Lily Potter, and the tombstone of Sirius Black.
Harry James Potter
July 31st 1980 – August 15th 2010
The Great Detective
"Schade, daß die Natur nur einen Mensch aus dir schuf,
Denn zum würdigen Mann war und zum Schelmen der Stoff."
"Do not pity the dead, Neville," came the soothing voice of Albus Dumbledore from behind him. "Death, the world's greatest mystery... I'm sure Harry is happy to have solved it, and I'm sure he would have wished for you to be as well."
"Maybe so, but so many who die deserve to live, and vice versa..." Neville muttered as he knelt before the tombstone, conjuring a bouquet of lilies and putting them on Harry's grave... "If anyone deserved life, it was him..."
Dumbledore hummed in agreement, kneeling next to Neville, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"This was his plan all along," Neville said as he rose and started walking away. He didn't feel like being around Dumbledore for too long. "I think he planned this long before you did."
And with those parting words, Neville left a gaping Dumbledore standing in the cemetery of Godric's Hollow...
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So, what do you think? Like it? Love it? Hate it? REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!
I may be posting a sequel to this, or I may be doing a prequel, showing the first three years at Hogwarts, I don't know yet, but what I do know is that I'm pretty damn sure that the Harry Holmes saga isn't complete yet!
