Eplilogue
For the second time that day, Neville Longbottom regained consciousness and had no idea where he was, or what happened to him. This time, though, he wasn't being kidnapped. He was lying quite comfortably in a bed. The room was dark and there were four shadowy figures near to him. They were arguing in hushed tones that were growing louder.
"This is the hospital wing!"
"But we're his friends!"
"He needs to rest."
"We just want to sit by him."
"Be quiet! You'll wake him up."
Neville sat up slowly in bed. His head was still throbbing a little.
"I'm awake," he said.
Harry, Ron, Hermione and Madam Pomfrey spun around as if they didn't know Neville was there.
"Neville!" Hermione cried, running to his side.
"Are you okay?" Harry said with a look of genuine concern. He and Ron went to the other side of his bed.
"I'm alright," Neville said.
"Lay down!" Pomfrey ordered, shoving Hermione out of her way. "You need rest."
"I'm fine," he said, resisting Pomfrey as she tried to push his head back to the pillow.
"He says he's okay," Harry said defiantly.
"Yeah, we're staying," Hermione added.
"No, you're not," Pomfrey snapped. "Visiting hours are over. Get out."
The three of them exchanged a glance, then sighed in defeat. As they walked past Neville, Harry leaned over and whispered;
"We'll come back later."
Neville smiled and wished them goodnight. He lay back on the pillows, feeling somewhat glad Pomfrey had made them leave. He felt like he could go to sleep for a good two, three days…
Just as Harry, Ron and Hermione were leaving the room, someone else was coming in. Pomfrey groaned exasperatedly.
"This is the hospital wing!"
"I'll be just a moment, Poppy," Dumbledore said.
She frowned and then walked into the adjacent room, muttering under her breath. Dumbledore approached Neville and pulled a chair up to his bedside. Neville looked at the Headmaster curiously. They had never formally met, but of course they each knew who the other was, both being very famous. They looked at each other for a moment, not speaking. Then Dumbledore smiled faintly.
"Bad news," Dumbledore said, making to pull something out of his pocket.
Neville froze—he didn't want any more bad news at this point. Dumbledore held out a piece of wood that was splintered into several pieces; almost unrecognizable. Almost.
"My wand," Neville said, reaching for it. He held the remains of it in his hands. "Can it be fixed?"
Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not. You'll have to replace it."
Neville frowned. "It was my father's," he mumbled.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "You used your father's wand… when you fought Voldemort?"
Neville flinched involuntarily at the name, and felt embarrassed by Dumbledore's words. He hadn't really fought Voldemort… just sort of stood there helplessly. Some Gryffindor he was.
"Yeah," he admitted. "I wanted to keep his wand."
The headmaster sighed. "Your father was killed by Voldemort. This wand's allegiance was to Voldemort, not you."
Neville really wished Dumbledore would stop speaking the name. But at least he had an explanation for why he had been so useless earlier that night.
"If I had my own wand," Neville began carefully, "would I have stood a chance?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "A small chance."
Neville nodded. The hospital room was quiet for another long moment. He could feel Dumbledore's icy blue eyes on him.
"So, he's back," Neville said finally. "You-Know-Who. Is he really back?"
"Call him Voldemort, Neville."
"I'm not ready to," he said quietly.
"Fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself," Dumbledore said wisely.
"I don't think my fear of him can be increased," Neville muttered.
Dumbledore smiled knowingly. "Baby steps, then. Say the name."
Neville took in a deep, tremulous breath. "V-Voldemort," he said for the first time in his life, shutting his eyes tightly. Nothing terrible happened. He opened his eyes cautiously. Nothing had happened at all. He didn't know what he expected to happen. Now, he wondered why everyone didn't say the name. Neville said it again, louder. It felt empowering.
Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling with pride. "That's it, Neville."
Neville grinned, before his expression turned somber. "But is Voldemort back?"
Dumbledore inhaled deeply, lines forming on his ancient forehead. "Well, he's not dead."
"He came back to life?" Neville blurted.
"No, no, I doubt he ever died."
"So… he's alive? He's back?" Neville pressed. He needed these answers.
"Not completely," Dumbledore answered carefully.
Neville tried to figure out his words, but he didn't understand. "How can you be 'not completely' alive?"
The headmaster smiled patiently, and began his explanation. "At this point, Voldemort is nothing without followers; servants; Death Eaters. That's always been somewhat true with him, really. He may be one of the most powerful wizards of all time, but he's still only one man. And now he's even less than a whole human being and he's vulnerable, for perhaps the first time in his life. If his followers were to desert him, he wouldn't be able to survive."
Neville nodded slowly, though he really couldn't comprehend much of what Dumbledore had said. How could one be 'less than a whole human being'? His mind was foggy, and he felt a headache coming on.
"I don't get it," he said simply, rubbing his temples.
Dumbledore smiled. "Maybe another time we can go into the details. I'd better go, or Poppy will be sending me a howler… She's been known to do that…"
Neville thanked him, and had drifted off before the headmaster left the room.
"He's asleep."
"Should we wake him?"
"I don't think so."
"Well, then we came here for nothing."
"Ouch, Harry, you stepped on my foot!"
"I can't help it; it's a big target."
Neville heard the whispering, which was gradually escalating to a higher volume as Harry and Hermione argued. Neville opened his eyes a crack—there appeared to be no one there.
"Guys!" said Ron's voice. "Guys! Neville's awake."
The hushed bickering ceased. Suddenly the three of them were visible, and Harry stowed the cloak away in the pocket of his robes. Hermione engulfed Neville in a hug immediately.
"I'm so sorry, Neville—it's all my fault—you could've died—I'm so sorry!" she rambled senselessly.
Harry rolled his eyes. "How is it your fault?"
Hermione stiffened and rounded on him. "Because I listened to you, and didn't get Dumbledore!" she snapped, swatting his arm.
"Hey!" Harry said defensively. "Neville's okay, so it doesn't matter."
Hermione sighed in clear exasperation, but didn't pursue the topic. The three of them sat down on the end of Neville's bed. They were all staring at him with mixed expressions of curiosity, apprehension, and awe. Neville never had liked being stared at, but now he didn't mind so much.
"We brought you something," Hermione said suddenly.
Right on cue, Harry emptied his pockets and Chocolate Frogs and other various candies spilled all over the bed.
"Thanks," Neville said, eagerly reaching for a handful. Harry and Ron also helped themselves to generous portions.
Hermione crossed her arms. "Those are for Neville."
Harry and Ron shrugged, both their mouths stuffed with candy. Hermione sighed and took a piece for herself.
"Hypocrite," Harry muttered.
Neville laughed and watched as two of his friends began bickering again. Friends, Neville thought. He remembered what Harry had said to Pomfrey earlier that evening: "We're his friends!" Neville smiled contently and reclined back on his pillow. Harry and Hermione were now throwing candy at each other, their disagreement apparently beyond calm discussion. Ron was picking up the pieces from the floor and slipping them into his pocket, prepared to take advantage of the situation.
Neville remembered that at the beginning of the year he didn't think he would ever fit in. Now, he had three friends who cared about him. Cared about him enough to face Voldemort. Cared enough to sneak out of bed late at night to visit him. Cared enough to smuggle him a good few pounds of candy.
And cared enough to eat most of said candy.
But what are friends for?
A/N: Cheeeese… but whatevs! So, THE END! Review, por favor. I want your final-conclusion-thoughts. And you may have noticed that this is in desperate need of a sequel (or two… or six), and I want to continue this, but… I'm not eager to start in the direction of the Horcrux Hunt because I'm already doing that in another story I've been posting (another AU— "Vengeance is Beautiful"… self-promotion FTW!).
On the other hand, the Horcrux thing is the only satisfying way to wrap this up… So my point is, don't expect "The Chosen One: Year Two" (working title…) for quite some time, if ever (*apologetic face* - there's no emoticon for that, to my knowledge). But I'd still love any suggestions/ideas/requests for the future of these characters! I've already got several 'ships lined up, and I'm dying to bring Luna into the mix, too. One last problem… the plot. I don't want to shadow the same plots in the books, but I'm only so creative… alas. The 'ships are so much easier…