A/N
I'll use a number of new Latin and Polish spells in this chapter. My Latin lessons are way back and I never had lessons in Polish, so this will be coming directly from a dictionary.
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Trial of Grievance – Part One
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Longbottom Manor – 14th of August
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Augusta
As if in slow motion Augusta struck a 6-inch-matchstick and used it to ignite the incense holder in the family shrine. She could have used magic to accomplish the same but it didn't seem right to do so, especially not today, on a day of such importance to her family. Today she would see that justice was given to her family. The wrongs of the past would be amended, and the culprit would be condemned.
"At the end of the day he will be dead, Argyle," Augusta whispered, feeling confident that his ghost was around, watching her, smiling tenderly.
Augusta sat down on the small bench in front of the shrine and allowed her eyes to examine its every detail. She had been sitting here quite often in the past, starting with the day her son and daughter-in-law had been delivered to St. Mungo's. After every visit, on each birth or names day and on many other days as well when grief struck her down, she had been here: praying, begging her ancestors to watch over them. Then the day came she learned the reason behind Neville's magical struggle. She met Hermione for the first time that very same day. She then learned two things, very different but both concerning Neville.
Neville deserved to be loved and cherished. Irrespective of his magical talent and power, his self-confidence or anything else for that matter. He was her grandson and a sweet boy, and he deserved to be loved. He was not to be belittled, thrown out of the window as an incentive for an accidental magic reaction to appear, and certainly not to be compared with his father every single day of his life. She had done him wrong in the past, and that day had been a rude awakening, with Hermione scolding her. Hermione, who did a much better job at loving Neville unconditionally… Like Alice before her, Hermione would be a fine addition to the House of Longbottom.
The second bit of information she learned that day was how Albus had messed with Neville's magic. For decades Albus had been her friend – or at least she thought he was. A friend, however, wouldn't have messed with the magical alignment of the Scion of her family. A friend wouldn't have caused aforementioned Scion to be nearly on par with a Squib for years, stunting his development and prompting his self-confidence to flounder. A friend wouldn't have done this, but Albus did exactly that.
Since that day she had a second reason to visit her family shrine: to urge her ancestors to help her in making Albus pay for everything he had done in the past. Her prayers had only risen in urgency and frequency after she learned about Albus' involvement in Frank's and Alice' worsening condition. She still couldn't believe he had placed that slip of paper into the hands of infamous Bellatrix LeStrange for this tragedy to happen. But while it was unfathomable, he admitted it under the pressure of the Congregation. And she had proof that he had been the one to interfere with their healing afterwards, for years. Albus had meddled with the treatment, slipped them potions to make their mental illness long-lasting, and obliviated and mind-charmed the healer to cover his tracks.
He would receive justice, in the biblical sense of the word: an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.
Augusta sighed. "But I don't know, Argyle, if I'll be the one…"
She drifted off in deep thoughts. It had been the most difficult conversation she ever had in all her life. Never before had she seen Minerva in such a state, not even after Elphinstone's death, or after she lost her girl. Freya, Augusta remembered. She wanted to call her Freya Sophia after her grandmother and Elphinstone's late sister. Augusta's chest shuddered as she took some deep breaths. Freya Sophia McGonagall – she would have been the babe's godmother. With Argyle dead, Minerva had asked Croaker to be godfather. With tears running down her cheeks Augusta snickered, remembering the look on the dour old git's face at the time. He had been shocked into silence, a very rare occurrence indeed. And then a smile had dawned on his face, an even rarer look to behold for him.
But nothing of this had happened in the end. Minerva had fallen down the stairs of Hogwarts and lost her baby. She needed months not to look like a zombie anymore, and years to have a spark in her eyes again. And all that time Albus had been around her, behaving like a good old friend, nursing her back to life.
It had all been for show, Augusta fumed. She didn't notice how magic rolled away from her in strong waves, making the whole manor tremble, and how her flaming eyes and upstanding hair gave her a mad, frightening look. You'll pay for this as well, Albus. You'll go into your grave today, howling and screaming. And we all will join Harry in doing a jig on your grave.
But who would be the one to do it? Minerva hadn't answered that question. For now she would go through with the trial. She was prepared, willing and eager, to battle the old coot.
And if Minerva stepped forward, she would allow her revenge. Minerva deserved it.
What will your decision be, Minnie?
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Ministry of Magic – Level nine
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Neville
The lift stopped its ascension with a musical "pling" and the door opened, allowing the passengers to enter the ninth level of the Ministry. The "Hall of Grievance" was part of level ten like the other courtrooms, situated in the eastern wing. However, you had to use the stairs to get there. The little group made their way under a veil of Aurors. The corridors were full of people, most of them staring and/or glaring in their direction. It was easy to tell which were Dumbledore's supporters, who wanted the former headmaster to die in a painful way, and the ones only here to watch the show of the century.
Frank Longbottom was walking at the front, ready to intercept anybody who able or at least willing to break through the line of Aurors. Handpicked by Amelia, the Aurors were under Kingsley's command. Frank didn't expect any trouble as he trusted completely the dark-skinned, bald man with the frightening smile. Augusta walked in the middle, with Agatha Pinegrew and Griselda Marchbanks on her flanks. Griselda's glare was enough to keep everybody at bay. She always had that ability to make you feel like a little boy whatever your real age was, and today she was making good use of it.
At the rear walked Alice Longbottom and her son Neville, Hermicat riding on his shoulders. Alice glanced towards her son from time to time. Something was troubling him but he had been unwilling to tell her the reason. At least it wasn't Hermione...
Neville closed his eyes for a second while walking with his family. Hermione's fluffy fur was pressed against his neck and he heard her soft, soothing purr. They had spent almost every waking hour of the last days together. Most of the time, Crookshanks had been there as well, and even Balou visited them once. Neville had mostly been in his bear Animagus form, communicating with Hermione through their mindlink. It had been a very weird feeling, he had to admit. After hours in his bear fur, using the bear's senses and feeling like a real bear would, he slowly started to loose himself to his animalistic side. He hoped that it had been helpful for Hermione as well. She knew and accepted that she had to harmonize her mind with her heart, her human and her animalistic side. This logical acceptance however did nothing to stop her subconscious fears.
Neville noticed the glances his mother shot him. She had no idea what he was thinking about. Months ago, when Hermione's cat-transformation hadn't been an issue, she had browsed the libraries of Hogwarts, the Ministry and a few others like the new-founded Lily-Evans-Library, to put her hands on every single book that at least marginally mentioned the Trial of Grievance. Neville would bet his own greenhouse that right now there was nobody around who knew more details about the trial, former duels and the magic of the chamber, than Hermione did.
Because of this he knew exactly what was his grandma was in for. Hermione had done the calculations, Arithmancy being heavily involved in the feat. Neville had only understood a tiny part of it, all the factors being part of the calculation, how much this or that decision and this or that accusation could change the whole thing. Hermione had certainly influenced his grandma in her decision on which charges to present to the trial. Now he could only hope they hadn't overlooked anything important.
Even with all of these preparations, Augusta had – following Hermione's calculation – only a 62% chance of winning. This left a 38% chance for her to die, a 38% chance that he would lose his stunning, majestic, and beloved Grandma Augusta.
And he knew about the part he might have to play today. His father wasn't ready for this and he wouldn't allow anybody else to barge in should the situation arise. No, should what he feared happen, he would be ready and do his part as well.
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Albus
The same level, a different lift landed. Like Augusta Longbottom, Albus had a number of Aurors around him. Only these weren't meant to protect him from press and spectators but to keep him from running. After his last two stunts, everybody obviously expected him to try it again. Albus, however, had no such intention. It would be an act of cowardice. Nonetheless, he still felt bad about the duel.
On the one hand, Albus felt a bit guilty to have to kill an old friend and supporter. Despite everything, Augusta was an honourable woman and had always been a staunch fighter for the light. Without the snakes whispering lies into her ears, she would still be at his side battling darkness instead of raising her wand against him.
A little hint of fear was there as well, he had to admit. Like Hermione Granger, he had calculated the possible outcomes of the duel. Their diagrams even looked alike as he had guessed quite correctly which charges the Longbottom dowager would use against him, and how this would influence the magical balance of the trial. There however ended the similarities between the pair of calculation sheets. There were grave differences between Hermione's and his evaluation of the different factors. Especially in his assessment of his defence lines. Albus was certain that his speech for the defence, corroborated with explanations of how his deeds had furthered the Greater Good, would make a big difference and tip the scales in his favour. All in all he guessed to have a chance of more than 70% to win this fight. This still left nearly a 30% risk of losing, and with his streak of bad luck over the last eighteen months he couldn't completely disregard it.
As they approached the chamber of the trial, the number of people around them heavily increased. Someone had informed the press of the path they were using, and Albus found himself dazzled by a flurry of camera flashes. Half a dozen reporters went on and on with all kinds of invasive questions:
Do you really expect to win this fight?
Will there even be a fight or do you intend to simply give up?
How can you live with your guilt?
A few jinxes and rotten tomatoes were stopped by the shield the Aurors had wisely put around him. It wasn't the first time he experienced this kind of behaviour, but Albus was still shocked it happened to him. The snakes' influence was deep indeed if the public had already forgotten everything he had done in the past.
"Stay away," a deep voice from the man walking at his side growled. While Dedalus Diggle and Sturgis Prodmore, two of the few remaining members of the Order still loyal to him, kept their heads down and followed him like frightened children, Rufus Scrimgeour kept his head high and glared around, a sneer on his face and an expression that told everybody: you're far beneath me, scum.
Albus didn't deceive himself about the reasons behind the three men showing their support. Dedalus Diggle was the only mostly honest one. Everybody knew about his loyalty to the former headmaster. Add to this added his gratitude for not naming his part in the Valentine's Day disaster, and you can explain his continued support. Prodmore however only kept to him because he had lost everything else. Making a deal with the DMLE had only saved his neck so far, as he didn't get a sentence to Azkaban but a heavy fine. Additionally he lost his job and there were rumours about his wife filing for divorce. Now his only hope was Albus' freedom consequent to his victory today. After that he would – perhaps, hopefully? – be able to get him a new job. Without Dedalus lending him some money to pay for the fine, he would be in the debtor's prison already or at least lose everything he wasn't already carrying on his back.
The last of the trio, Rufus Scrimgeour, was in no way loyal to him or could be called a friend. He was only here out of political reasons. Albus knew that Rufus trusted him to win today, against all odds and the expectations of many others. He wanted to use the moment to state charges against Minister Fudge, who currently was a staunch supporter of Harry Potter and Augusta Longbottom in this legal and magical battle. Still, it was good to have him at his side. Perhaps it would convince a few others of the folly of their decisions. And he certainly was a splendid pit bull, snapping at everybody's calves should they get too close.
"Make way for Albus Dumbledore, the conqueror of Gellert Grindelwald."
Albus smiled, for the first time today. It was a bit much, but still nice to hear. His victory over Gellert was the one thing nobody could take away. And one day he would be known as Tom's conqueror as well.
One day.
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Ministry of Magic – Level ten
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Harry
The chamber was really crowded. It was built like a Roman arena, circular with several rows of benches around, raised above the middle ground to allow the spectators an unobstructed look. There was a separated area for the judges and two entrances, the heavy portcullis only enhancing the bloody arena look. All places were already taken, aside from two benches for those close friends accompanying the duellists. A third entrance allowed healers or other people to enter the arena as well but was heavily guarded by a dozen French Aurors.
French Aurors were chosen to ascertain their neutrality, Brychan Camwy explained beforehand.
They were wearing heavy dragon hide and basilisk hide armours, looking quite impressive and not like someone you wanted to get on the bad side of.
"There's grandma," Daphne called out, pointing towards the bench reserved for Augusta's friends. Daphne had been waiting at Harry's side, clinging to his arm like as if needed him to stay upright. Harry was certain that he would have serious bruises later but he didn't complain. He felt like her for sure.
"Where's Neville?" Harry wondered. Agatha had taken a seat now with Griselda Marchbanks at her side as well as Frank and Alice Longbottom. Hermicat was riding on Agatha's shoulder, a very unusual sight in itself, but no sign of Neville.
"Perhaps he's been allowed to stay with his grandma," Daphne assumed with a hint of worry. After a moment she whispered: "I really hope everything goes well. It would really hurt him to lose her."
"Everything will be fine," Harry said, pressing her hand soothingly. "Everything will be fine."
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Hermione
Hermicat was startled from her deep thoughts as fanfares started to blare. For a moment she was a little shocked at the kinds of medieval instruments playing. Then the seven judges entered their separate area, and took their seats. They were the same seven judges that had been at the court a few weeks ago, confirming Augusta's entitlement to get this trial. Minister Fudge was sitting next to them with his colleagues from France, Denmark and Spain as well as some observers from the ICW. With Albus a former political heavyweight on the international stage for so long, it was no wonder this duel drew so much interest all around.
Hermicat's little body started to shake a bit. She loved the old lady and didn't want to see her getting hurt or killed. Through her link she felt Neville's even deeper fears, adding to her own. Agatha, sensing her distress, raised her hand and started to stroke her fur. Instinctively Hermicat leant into her old, slightly gnarled hand. The past few days had improved the harmony between her human and her animal side, but she still wasn't there yet.
"Everything will be fine," Agatha whispered, not knowing that Harry was using the exact same words right to calm her granddaughter.
The chief judge raised his hammer and heavy thuds, amplified by magic clearly, permeated the wide chamber. Very slowly the hundreds of spectators calmed down. It still needed several minutes until it was silent enough to proceed.
"Today," the chief judge's grave voice announced, "we have come together to see justice done, for grave misdeeds being judged and punished. The Trial of Grievance goes back to the days of the four founders. Rarely used, it is still completely legal. A little warning before we start: none of you are allowed to interfere in any way. The duellists will be protected against noises from the ranks. Flashlights or any other visual distractions will be heavily fined. Even unsuccessful attempts to distract the contestants will be punished by a stay in Azkaban of between three and twelve months. Leave now if you have doubts about your ability to stay calm during this trial."
He waited for a moment but nobody left. However it got way calmer and Hermione noticed a number of journalists and spectators storing their magical cameras away.
"And now: let us begin."
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Agatha
While Agatha did her best to quell Hermione's fears, she wasn't very calm herself. She believed in Augusta and in the rightness of her accusations. However, Albus Dumbledore wasn't a man to mess with, even today, with his mind being off the rockers. There were simply too many uncertainties, too many things that could influence the whole trial. One of them was the matter of the second.
"The challenger," the chief judge announced and one of the portcullises was lifted, allowing a stern and concentrated looking Augusta Longbottom to enter the arena. Neville was following her, pale but as determined looking as his grandma.
Each participant was allowed a second. He wouldn't be part of the actual duel – that was solved in a completely different and magical manner – but could still play an important part. Agatha had offered to be her second, earning her a growl. Yes, sweet, friendly Neville had actually growled at her. It had been that deep, frightening bear growl that fast convinced her that he would be the better choice in the matter.
"The challengee," announced the lifting of the second portcullis. Albus Dumbledore entered, as pompous as ever, bearing a red-gold robe and a carefully braided beard, his trusted wand in his hand, the one he got from Grindelwald himself, won in their famous duel fifty years ago. Surprisingly at his side walked none other than Rufus Scrimgeour. It was a political statement and Agatha didn't miss the wicked smile he sent towards Minister Fudge. They now had more than Augusta's fate in mind as they hoped Albus didn't win the trial today.
"Contestants, step forward."
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Neville
It certainly felt weird to be down here. Several hundred pairs of eye were watching him closely. At least that's how it felt like. On the other hand it felt completely right to be here, at his grandma's side. She gave him strength and trusted him as well.
She's waiting for something, Neville noticed, and it's not the trial alone. He had however no idea what it could be. He was certain Hermione could have told him. She had been tight-lipped about the matter and begged him not to pry, but she knew something, something incredible serious. But what?
"Lady Augusta Longbottom," the chief judge raised his voice again. "Six months ago your grandson stood in your place and brought forward a number of serious charges against Albus Dumbledore, former Headmaster of Hogwarts and former Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He did it in your name. The Wizengamot decided back then to allow you to be part of the trial after your recovery. Last month we, the judges of the Wizengamot, confirmed your claim and allowed this Trial of Grievance to happen.
"Did anything happen to change your mind?
"Are there ways to solve the dispute in a peaceful way?
"Would you be willing to accept any other kind of compensation from the challengee?"
Without hesitation Augusta balked: "three times no, your honour."
The chief judge allowed the chattering all around to calm down again.
"And are you willing and able to fight this duel today?"
"Yes, I am," Augusta nodded gravely. Neville had the feeling that for a moment his grandma wanted to glance somewhere. He followed her eyes. Professor McGonagall? She was sitting there, between Headmaster Flitwick and Madam Sprout, incredible pale and looking like she would pass out any moment. What…?
"Albus Dumbledore, do you have any last words before we go further?"
Any last words, Neville nearly snickered in a fit of gallows humour. Albus threw himself into a pose and started to ramble. It was the same old story about the Greater Good, not that Neville actually listened. He was far too occupied with his thoughts about Minerva and what her part in this could be. He glanced towards Hermione and would have preferred, not for the first time, to see her human face. Perhaps it would have unveiled something. Her mind however was completely shut off from him for now.
"Lady Longbottom," the chief judge stopped the rambling after a while. "Did anything he said change your mind about the trial?"
"It did nothing of the sort," Augusta growled back. Your hide belongs to me, her look towards Albus Dumbledore said.
The chief judge sighed and nodded. He hadn't expected anything less. Even Mafalda Hopkirk, one of his associate judges and formerly an ally of Albus Dumbledore, saw no possible way to stop this matter. She had lost all trust in her former friend after hearing what he had done in the past to further his precious "Greater Good".
"I understand. In that case…"
"I challenge Lady Longbottom's right to start this Trial of Grievance."
Everybody was stunned by the interruption. Even Albus Dumbledore looked surprised and blinked in the culprit's direction. This had obviously not been arranged upon. Or he's an even better actor than I thought, Neville mused. Rufus Scrimgeour however looked around quite haughtily and smirked.
"On what basis do you challenge her right, Mister Scrimgeour?" The chief judge asked. He looked quite uncomfortable as he realized – like many others – that there wasn't much he could do to stop the man, irrespective of his reasons. In the end it was certainly only a calculated political move. If Scrimgeour was able to stop this duel from happening altogether, it would be a serious political blow to Augusta Longbottom, Harry Potter and the Minister. In a duel against Augusta, he would even have better chances than Albus because the essential trial rules didn't count. Augusta's magic wouldn't be boosted against him and with Rufus Scrimgeour being an experienced Auror – he didn't get his former post by incompetence – he had some chances to win or at least draw her out and exhaust her in case of Scrimgeour losing.
"Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," Rufus drawled, ignoring the 'former' interjections, "did more for the magical community than any other living wizard. He should be praised for his deeds and not belittled for some little errors of the past."
"Little errors," Augusta hissed.
"In consideration of the big picture," Rufus drawled on, "those … incidents … were only small hiccups and…"
"I accept," his rambling was stopped coldly. "I accept your challenge in the name of House Longbottom, but please spare us this dribble, Scrimgeour. Simply draw your wand and keep your big nonsense-spouting gob shut." The last words were a deep growl from Neville and for a second Rufus wondered if this challenge had been a good idea.
"You don't have to do this," Augusta whispered.
"You know I have," Neville stopped her, showing her a soft smile. He glanced towards the stands. "I don't know what you have planned exactly and what Professor McGonagall has to do with this, but we have to go on. This is only… how did he call it… a hiccup."
Augusta stared at him, her thoughts racing. Allowing him to accept the challenge would put her duel at a risk. Instead she could address the chief judge and plead with him to rule this challenge to be unfounded. With the judges already allowing it to happen in the first place, she had good chances that they would turn Rufus' challenge down. However, Neville really deserved it. Hermione had been right about something: she had been dreadful to him in his childhood. His lack of self-confidence was partly her fault. Allowing this would be a sign of trust and proof that she really changed. She stepped forward and hugged him curtly, still unused to these public gestures of affection. She stepped back and nodded towards the chief judge, signalling him that she approved.
"Rufus Scrimgeour," the chief judge announced. "It is your right as Albus Dumbledore's second to challenge the rightfulness of this duel. Neville Longbottom, it is your right as Augusta Longbottom's second to accept the challenge. The challenge will start in three minutes. Albus Dumbledore, Augusta Longbottom, please step back to the edges of the arena so that additional shields can be erected."
For a moment Rufus Scrimgeour and Albus Dumbledore had a heated discussion. Albus didn't seem too happy about the development but both men seemed to trust Rufus to win the fight. In the end, Albus stepped back just like Augusta did, and additional walls were erected, protecting Albus and Augusta, as well as prohibiting any interference on their part.
The mob of spectators watched eagerly. Magic would fly, blood would be spilled. Irrespective of their political affiliation most actually wished for Neville to win, if only because they wanted to see the highlight of the day: Albus battling Augusta.
"Put him down, tiger," Harry whispered.
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The Challenge
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"This challenge is to the second blood," the chief judge explained with a harsh, no-nonsense voice. "It ends when one combatant surrenders or is unable to continue the fight. No lethal spells are allowed."
"Rufus Scrimgeour, are you ready?" The man nodded and grinned like a shark in Neville's direction.
"Neville Longbottom, are you ready?" Neville gave a curt nod, his face not betraying his nervousness.
"You may start when the light touches the earth," with a flick of his wand he created a bright ball of blue light in the air. It immediately started to descend, hundreds of eyes watching. Rufus continued to grin and narrowed his eyes; Neville let out a shuddering breath and gripped his wand closer, his senses reaching out to the ground below.
Let's pound him into the floor.
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Round One
*boom*
The ball of light touched the ground and exploded into hundreds of slivers with a loud booming sound. A split second later, Rufus Scrimgeour exploded into action as well.
"Lancea! Lancea! Reducto!"
Rufus shot off a triplet of spells, the last one targeted at the ground in front of Neville's feet. He certainly wasn't willing to confine his spell repertoire to stunning and disarming spells. He was out for blood. Neville however had no intention to make it this easy for him.
"That's one of your moves," Harry whispered and Daphne nodded with a small smile, not allowing her eyes to leave Neville for one moment. And really: Neville remained on defence for now, avoiding Rufus' spells through a number of very graceful looking dancing steps, prompting even his concerned mother to smile. Never before had Neville seen this opponent fight and so he tried to get a realistic impression of the former Auror's capabilities. It didn't look good. Rufus was a strong wizard, very fast and deadly accurate. He certainly knew far more spells than those he used so far. Neville would have to be careful, especially about curses towards his senses. In the meantime he started to draw magic from the ground around him and harmonized his aura with the arena. The longer the duel lasted, the better his chances were.
"Reducto!" Rufus followed up with a pair of cutting curses, forcing Neville to dodge again, only to use a nonverbal spell to turn the ground into something very slippery. Neville noticed it too late and tumbled to the ground.
"Regio Silentiae!" Immediately it got completely silent around Neville. He created an area of silence around me, he realized. With the mud slowing him down, he was barely able to avoid the next spells until his luck run out and he was – as he had feared – hit by a Conjunctivitis Spell.
Protego duro! Hastily he created a shield to defend against the next attacks, thankful that Harry had trained with him to cast the spell nonverbally. Neville knew that it wasn't as strong as usual and would only last a couple of seconds against this onslaught but he didn't need any more time.
"What is he doing?" Daphne wondered. The answer came through her mindlink as Hermione explained. "{He's weaving an earth wave.}" Daphne's eyes widened as did many others all around the arena. Finishing his exotic spell dance, Neville made a pushing motion with both hands and a wall of earth, sand and mud, ten feet high and at least twenty feet broad, ascended from the ground and started to roll towards a slightly frightened Rufus Scrimgeour like a sea wave would. Rufus started to run, attempting to escape the earthen wave-wall, but it simply followed him as if it had a mind on its own. Luckily for him, it got slower with time, lost its momentum and height after a while and sunk back into the ground, but it certainly distracted him long enough. Rufus watched the last of the wave crumble to the ground again – without ever touching him – as Neville used the time to get away from the zone of silence and banished the blinding curse.
"That wasn't very nice," Neville grumbled, "time for payback."
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Round Two
Only Hermione and her friends knew what the pale greyish shimmer on Neville's skin meant. He had a small buckler-like shield attached to his arm like Harry used often to parry some attacks, while trusting a thin layer of stone to dampen other hits. Apparently Neville was eager to go into the offensive, but again he used the tactic of a friend to do so.
"Ignis terrestris!" A line of pure fire raced towards Rufus. His opponent dodged to the side, not trusting his shield to stop this elemental attack. He wasn't fast enough and his robe caught fire.
"Aguamenti!" He hastily extinguished the fire, while rolling around on the ground to dodge the next attacks. Only now did he show how truly dangerous he was. Despite rolling around and having his robes doused with fire, he was able to get off a duo of spells, both nearly pin point in their accuracy.
"Miernik!" Neville didn't recognize the spell and it was too fast to deflect. Something raced towards him, formed like a dagger, and he barely started to move as it hit his shoulder and punched a hole right through.
"Szabla!" The pain of the first hit made his eyes water and he had no chance to dodge the second one. It hit the edge of his buckler and went straight into his thigh. Unbeknownst to him, Rufus had used two Polish spells he had learned from former Durmstrang absolvents in his time as an Auror. Both spells were dark grey and barely acceptable in such a duel – not that he'd care. Without the buckler and the earth skin spell dampening the second attack – a very powerful cutting curse similar to the Messorius – he would have lost his leg, without the chance of healing. Even so the cut went deep and scraped the bone. With a gurgle Neville went to the ground. He was losing blood, much and fast.
Daphne's hand cramped painfully around Harry's. Both wished to be near Hermione right now, feeling her distress. "{Calm down, Mione,}" Harry mind-whispered, sensing that she was nearly willing to risk Azkaban and interrupt the duel – not that she had many ways to do so as a cat. "{He's not out yet. He'll win.}" There was so much conviction in his words that Hermione actually calmed down a bit.
"Scutum Terrestris!" There was much pain in his voice as Neville erected a U-shaped shield around him. He had no time to use a rune to strengthen it like he had done at the big battle, but the spell was still strong enough to make the wall sturdy enough to stop a couple of spells.
"Caenos voco!" Harry grinned as he heard the spell. Neville had explained that Caenos meant something like mud larks; Caenos voco would mean something like "I call the mud larks". And really: some hip high, more or less humanoid looking creatures climbed out of the ground. They looked wet, combining earth and water magic, and shambled a bit like ducks towards Rufus. The former Auror apparently decided to ignore them for now, assuming them to be harmless, and started to move around to get a clear line of sight on Neville again. It wasn't his best decision so far, because the little mud larks lived up to their name and started to whack Rufus with blobs of mud, mostly to his chest but a few of them hitting his face as well.
As Neville had hoped, Rufus stopped and changed his mind, trying to destroy them first. Perhaps he assumed that he had enough time to do so and that the "little boy" was more or less out of the fight already. Each Reducto, weakly cast to preserve his energy, destroyed another mud lark and it was only a question of time until the former Auror was ready to continue the fight. Neville however used that time well. Even Harry and Daphne didn't know why Neville grabbed a bit of earth and used an Aguamenti to wet it, forming a lump of mud with his hands. Hermione had been experimenting with earth and water to create some battlefield healing charms – fast and dirty ones. Now he used the lump of mud like a bandage, putting it on the deep cut in his leg, following with a second "mud bandage" to his shoulder. When Rufus at last put the last mud lark down, Neville was ready for to fight again.
It was time to end this.
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Round Three
"Confringo!"
Neville barely escaped the blasting curse with a back flick he had learned from Daphne. Hermione only hoped that the rash movement wouldn't reopen the wound in his leg. He actually started to limp after that, and used a Protego spell to stop the following duo of Reductos. With every hit he was forced back another step and a second Confringo proved that this kind of protection wasn't especially useful against these attacks.
Elemental variant, his mind raced. He thought about his training and what kind of element would be useful against Confringo and Reducto spells. Kinetic energy, they're pure kinectic energy. Earth would stop them but crack under the pressure. Water should dampen and stop it.
"Protego aquae!" Hermicat showed something that could only be a cat's grin, as the next shield created by Neville was ten feet in diameter, one foot thick and looked like floating water. Its usefulness was obvious, as it easily stopped the next spells without any signs of being in danger of getting destroyed or overtaxing Neville. It even looked funny as when a Confringo hit the wall, the explosion spraying water in all directions only to flow back into the shield within seconds. We have to thank Bry later for his elemental shield training, Hermione thought, feeling that her three friends had similar thoughts right now.
Time for another offensive, Neville smirked.
"Pluvia Ignis!"
It wasn't nearly as strong as if cast by Harry. Even Brychan's spell would have been noticeable stronger. Still: the rain of fire Neville created was impressive enough and made Rufus jump. He protected himself with a Protego, switching to a domelike shield seconds later. Both spells had their drawbacks. The Protego wasn't meant to protect against dangers from above, as it was mostly a vertical shield. And while the dome was able to divert those fiery missiles, it had difficulties to neutralize the elemental attack and it was fast taxing on Rufus' energies.
A second serious drawback of the dome became obvious only moments later: it was stationary. With Rufus unable to keep on with his full attack, Neville was free to keep the fire rain going and even mix a few earth fist spells into the mix.
"Pugnus saxeus!"
The first fist caused the dome to sound like a bell. The second fist made dozens of tiny cracks appear in the shield. Rufus, noticing this, tried to strengthen the protection. The third however ignored his puny attempt and completely shattered the dome. Rufus started to run around in a funny haste, trying to dodge the next fiery missiles only to have a fourth fist spell glance at his feet. Ungracefully he slammed into the ground. Again he reacted like a trained Auror and duellist. A hastily erected shield protected him against the next couple of spells from Neville; an Aguamenti made him look like a drowned rat but protected him somewhat at least against the fire. He used the won time well, firing a couple of dark spells against Neville, reaching deeply into his bag of magical tricks.
Neville actually had to stop his rain of fire to concentrate onto his shield. Using his deep understanding of both water and earth magic, he created a trio of little stone slaps that flowed around in the bigger water wall. While the water was well suited to stop blasting, blowing and cutting curses, others piercing spells like Lanceas were more easily stopped by massive objects. It certainly was an impressive view. Too bad neither Daphne nor I can learn this, Harry mused. Daphne was very bad with Earth spells, and he was even worse with Water magic. We'll have to find something else on our own.
"Swiatlo!"
Neville noticed the danger a second too late. After a dozen of heavy hitters against his shield he simply hadn't expected a spell to deliberately miss. It sizzled through the air above and caused a massive explosion of light, immediately blinding him for good. Instead of futile attempts to get his eyesight back, Neville immediately started to concentrate on his other senses, especially his ability to feel his surroundings via the earth.
He's over there, trying to get into my back, Neville thought, his blinded eyes narrowed in concentration. He's trying to be stealthy. Not that it was of any importance to him.
Rufus Scrimgeour however wasn't the only one with knowledge of foreign spells. Since Neville learned about Earth Magic for the first time, he had been eager to learn more about it. He had presented an interest in learning only shown by Hermione and Daphne so far; he even went as far as drilling other races about it. Hermione had started to do the same with the mermen and he had been lucky with the Goblins. Any other wizard would have been unsuccessful with such an inquiry, insulting the Goblins with daring to even ask them. Neville however had Harry on his side. Ironsides had been willing to teach him a thing or two after long and serious talks.
And now Neville was ready to make history. Duels in this chamber were rare enough already. Never before, however, had Goblin spell been used.
"Gund U Bot!"
Only a handful of attendees even realized that he spoke Gobblededook. Those few taxed their brains to translate it. Even fewer were able to do that before the result became obvious. Starting in the middle of the chamber, rolling towards the edges like a ripple in the water, the earthen ground turned into some oily morass. Spoken by Ironsides, this spell alone would have been life-threatening. Neville however was only interested in covering the floor of the whole chamber and stopping Rufus from running around. Within seconds both contestants started to sink into the ground. Neville, kneeling on the ground, his open palms on the earth for connection, was halfway hidden now. Rufus, now more interested in doing something against this weird danger than to continue his attacks, sank into the morass up to his knees. Running around certainly wasn't an option anymore.
"Miernik!
"Szabla!
"Confringo! Confringo!
Rufus' casting became more and more urgent, and there was a hint of panic in his voice. None of his spells were able to break the wall of earth and mud that was rising from the ground, replacing the water shield. It was as if Neville was hiding behind a small hill, laughing about any attempt to break through or banish it.
"Repulso!"
Unable to cast a spell similar to Neville's rain fire, Rufus resorted to banishing lumps of mud over the hill, attempting to hit his nasty opponent with self-created catapult missiles. His aim wasn't too bad but it was difficult to hit a target you didn't see. Neville ignored it for now, even when Rufus started to transform his missiles into something harder to make them more dangerous.
"It looks like he's praying," Daphne whispered. And really: Neville was certainly not doing any normal kind of spell casting. Legs mostly sunk into the ground, hands and forearms not doing much better, he was kneeling there mumbling something. A rumbling sound permeated the whole chamber, like stones grinding against each other moments before a cave-in.
Rufus' casting became even more urgent and one of his missiles hit Neville. Something like a sharpened piece of wood pierced his side. It wasn't enough to stop him and luckily Rufus had no idea that he had hit him. The next number of missiles went far off again. And now the idea of Neville's chant became obvious: mud was gathering in front of him, the hill rising more and more. It was already fifteen feet high at least and still growing. The mud to his sides and back flowed towards the growing hill, until it towered far above both contestants. Rufus Scrimgeour's eyes widened and he attempted to run away. There was however still enough mud around to make such an attempt silly. He simply was too slow.
And then the mud hill started to move.
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Augusta
The applause slowly subsided. Neville accepted it quite gracefully, Augusta admitted. She had been relieved when Rufus Scrimgeour surrendered. Not that he had many choices left, with a solid wall of mud circling him against the arena wall, looming above his head and eager to drown him. Neville smiled proudly and exchanged a curt bow with his grandma. He's really grown up, Augusta mused. Frank will be proud of him and Alice is certainly trying to calm down again.
There had been a few errors on Neville's side, mostly due to his youth and lack of experience with foreign spells. His strongest magic was neither flashy nor fast – something that would put him at a serious disadvantage against a fighter like Harry who was more of a flash striker. However, the sheer amount of magic he had used was truly staggering. Funnily enough, Albus Dumbledore thought just the same. He had, however, a very unique conclusion.
It was good that I messed with his magic back then, he mused. The misalignment of his magic forced him to use the available rest as best as possible. Now, with his whole magic at the tips of his fingers, he's far stronger than he otherwise would have been. In the end I helped him grow stronger. Surely he will realize it one day.
Rufus had already left the arena and Neville followed him after a last hug. A dozen Unspeakables had used that time to return the arena to its normal condition and now started to scatter all kind of objects all around, mostly simple stones and logs but a number of statues as well. They were meant as auxiliaries in the duel, both contestants being especially strong in Transfiguration. The audience, while impressed by the first fight, expected something very different from the second one. In a Rock Concert Neville against Rufus would have been the opening act and certainly more than able to raise the expectations and mood. Now it was time for the main course.
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Augusta only listened to the chief judge with half an ear as he explained the rules of the trial. She already knew them by heart and had no use of a repetition. In the end it was quite simply: apart from the Unforgivables everything was allowed. They were out for the kill so even the spells that had been forbidden in the challenge beforehand were allowed now. No, her mind was occupied with a different matter altogether, a matter that had to be decided right now, that couldn't wait any longer.
"Your honour…" Augusta's voice wasn't very loud and a tad hesitating. As he didn't react but continued to ramble on, Augusta harrumphed and raised her voice: "Your honour?"
"Yes, Lady Longbottom?" The chief judge addressed her with a slight frown. He obviously didn't like to get interrupted.
"Before we continue," she glanced towards Minerva who looked even paler now and slightly shook her head. "We have another matter to address."
"And what would that be?" He asked, having no idea what she could be talking about. The challenge uttered had been the last obstacle. With both contestants ready to fight, they could start the real duel of the day.
"Is there anybody out there," Augusta addressed the audience, "under the impression that their right to fight this man is greater than mine?" Slowly she turned around until her eyes rested on Minerva who looked like crying. "Is there anybody among you who is willing or demanding to fight in my stead?"
"Lady Longbottom," the chief judge interjected. "This is quite unusual."
"Is it not part of the Trial of Grievance to pose this question?" It certainly was and Augusta knew it. Alike at a marriage ceremony, this question had to be posed. It simply wasn't expected that anybody would dare to object to Augusta Longbottom's right to fight Albus Dumbledore. Not now, after months of preliminaries.
"It is your decision to ask this question," the chief judge admitted. "It is tradition but not a requirement. However, you know that you would lose your own right to fight him should anybody else step in? Even if this someone loses the fight, you omit your own right forever."
"I know, I understand and I accept this," Augusta nodded slowly.
"In this case," the chief judge sighed, "let me repeat Lady Longbottom's question: is there anybody among us who objects her right to fight this duel?"
Augusta's eyes were still resting on Minerva, trying to force her through sheer willpower to step in. She didn't know herself when and how she had decided that this was the right way, but in this moment she was convinced that it should be Minerva's fight, not hers. She had Frank back, Alice and Neville. Seeing Albus suffer, dishing out justice and seeking revenge would be sweet, but she would gain nothing from it. Minerva however would never win back the husband and daughter she lost. Fighting Albus, irrespective of losing or winning, would perhaps allow her to put this behind her.
With slightly shaky legs Minerva at last obeyed Augusta's wish and stood up. Albus eyes widened and more than one spectator was shocked. All over the chamber chatter erupted and it needed some strikes of the chief judge's hammer to quench the noise again.
"I object," Minerva said. It was barely a whisper but nonetheless it was heard.
"Declare yourself," the chief judge growled. He was feeling a headache coming. The whole matter was bad enough, now another complication arose. At least this seemed heartfelt and not some political bullshit as Scrimgeour had started. He didn't like the former Auror and was happy to see him crushed. Rufus' accomplices in the intended political coup would be furious. Losing against a sixteen-year-old, irrespective of how talented he was, wasn't a good start to go against Minister Fudge.
"I am Minerva McGonagall," Minerva declared, her voice slowly gaining in steadiness, her eyes starting to flash with new-found energy. "I am Professor at Hogwarts, Head of House Gryffindor, and the Head of House McGonagall." Not that there remained many in her house aside from a few nieces and nephews, mostly in America. "I object Augusta's right to fight this duel. I demand to fight in her place. My grief is deeper, my wrath sincerer, and my affair more just." Her voice softened. "Augusta, friend, you know my sorrow. Allow me to fight in your stead."
"Did you…" Daphne wondered.
"No idea," Harry shook his head, flabbergasted by the development.
"{Hermione knew something,}" Neville told them, himself feeling floored. The reason had to be really serious if his grandma not only allowed Minerva to take over, but actually pushed her into doing this. Hermione stayed silent but there was no way to mistake her emotions: she was near crying and boiling with hate.
"Minerva, friend," Augusta bowed slightly. "Come down and fight in my stead. House Longbottom feels with House McGonagall in their loss." She breathed deeply. "Your loss is my loss. Your grief is my grief." Her voice rose and there was steel and lava in her voice. "Come down and avenge my goddaughter."
Albus paled and felt like fainting. She knew. She couldn't … Merlin. Albus remembered: my books. Someone read my books and told her. This isn't good.
"Crush this blasted bastard and stomp him into the ground. House Longbottom will join House McGonagall in their victory jig on his grave."
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A/N
Yes, I reused some spells Ironsides cast in my other story "Crossing the Border", chapter 9.
I have to admit that right now I would have preferred to set Albus against Augusta in this duel. However, the poll had been very clear, with 60% seeing Minerva and only 20% each seeing Augusta or Filius as the opponent of Albus.