A/N:
Sorry for the delay in posting this. I work in the National Health Service in the UK and so things in the time of Covid-19 have been crazy.
But - yikes! This is it - the end! Just an epilogue after this which answers the question of 'what happened to Lavender Brown?'
I wanted to say a huge thank you everyone that's followed this, to everyone that's ever left a comment letting me know you've been reading. A particular thank you to lemondrizzlecake and kjlamb 1020, who have been such consistent reviewers - thank you so much - I love you both for it! Posting this has been quite hard at times as the feedback has felt sparse, and I was really not sure if anyone was reading this on occasions. Hence, every comment means a lot. Likewise, if you've got this far, I would really love to hear what you think!
I will be posting the epilogue this weekend.
Much of the dialogue of the first half of this chapter is taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Ch. 51 Where Books Are Burned...
'The odd thing is, Harry,' [Dumbledore] said softly, 'that it may not have meant you at all. Sybil's prophecy could have applied to two wizard boys, born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, both sets of parents having narrowly escaped Voldemort three times. One, of course was you. The other was Neville Longbottom.'
- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
Neville's thoughts raced disorientingly. He couldn't see. He felt sick. He thought he might faint. Harry was dead. Dead.
"Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!" Voldemort cried out.
The words sickened Neville. He felt the glue-like force that had been sticking his lips together loosen.
"He beat you!" Ron yelled from somewhere behind Neville; Voldemort's silencing charm must have broken for all of them. As a result, the defenders of the castle burst out into a cacophony of screaming and shouting, before Voldemort waved his wand and Neville felt the force of another silencing spell bind his lips together.
Neville sensed the weight of despair and defeat settle over the crowd, but he refused to be bowed. Harry had been special, yes, but why? Because of some ancient, unknown magic that had saved him from the killing curse. The magic of a mother's love, apparently – that's what Neville had heard. And love was something those that had fought for the Light had in spades.
They couldn't let this belief in one saviour defeat them, because Voldemort was just a man – immensely dark and terrifyingly talented – but Tom Riddle was still just a man, wasn't he? A man that had built a cult of fear so powerful that he'd convinced people that he couldn't be beaten. But Harry had given them all hope. And although that's what Neville had clung onto through the Carrows' reign of the school, it wasn't Harry that had helped him get through it in the end – it was his other friends and allies, some – many – of whom were still here, still alive. It was the hope that things could be better, and that the dark could be defeated. Hope and friendship had been Neville's most powerful weapon, and it remained so.
"He was killed whilst trying to sneak out the castle grounds," Voldemort continued gleefully. "Killed while trying to save himself!"
Lies . Neville knew they were lies. Something primal inside him raged at the injustice of the words.
And the lion in Neville roared .
He found himself charging through the crowd, his broken ankle forgotten, and with his wand pointed at Voldemort. There was a bang and a flash of light and Neville felt his wand leave his hand and his body propelled backwards before he landed with a painful thump on his back.
"And who is this?" Voldemort asked, his voice dangerously soft. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"
An awful cackle came from the crowd of Death Eaters and Neville felt bile rise in his throat as he saw his parents' torturer laughing mirthfully, her face framed in wild black hair.
"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"
"Ah yes, I remember," Voldemort replied.
Neville struggled to his feet and stood, wandless and alone, in the space between the Light and the Dark. The lion in him growled.
"So what if I am?" Neville was grateful that his voice carried loud and steadily through the evening air.
"You show spirit, and bravery and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."
Neville almost laughed at the absurdity of the notion that he would ever step over to Voldemort's side.
"I'll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore's Army!" he yelled. He felt buoyed to hear an answering cry from the crowd behind him; Voldemort's silencing charms seemed to have failed again.
"Very well," Voldemort said, his voice ominously soft. "If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head be it."
Neville stood, his heart pounding in his ears, as Voldemort summoned the Sorting Hat, of all things, out from where it had been buried in the castle ruins. It landed neatly in the dark wizard's hands.
"There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School," Voldemort proclaimed. "There will be no more houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin will suffice for everyone, won't they, Neville Longbottom?"
He pointed his wand at Neville and Neville felt his muscles stiffen. He could no longer move. Then Voldemort was making the hat fly through the air towards Neville until it landed on his head and pushed down with uncomfortable force so it covered his eyes. The world went black but Neville was powerless to do anything. He heard movement from the crowd behind him, but then sensed the non-verbal spells of the Death Eaters paralyse the group.
"Neville here is going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to oppose me," Voldemort declared.
And then the world was on fire.
At least, that's what it felt like. His head burned with an intense heat and Neville realised, to his horror, that Tom Riddle had set the Sorting Hat alight as it sat on top of his head. Screams rent the air as Neville desperately tried to move; he tried to concentrate as much as possible on rousing the muscles of his arms and legs, but to no avail.
The screams of the crowd behind him were joined by a huge uproar, a cacophony of sound. It seemed as if hundreds of people were running into the grounds of the castle, and Neville heard a combative, determined, united cry. He felt the vibrations of lumbering giants' feet, the clipping sound of hooves on cobbles and the twangs of what must have been tens of arrows being released from bows.
Neville felt the cooling effect of the flames of the Hat die and suddenly, to his relief, he could move again. He reached up and swiped the Hat from his head and in so doing, saw something silver and gleaming under its rim. Instinctively, he reached inside and drew from the depths of the Hat something heavy and cold, something that he'd held only once before, but which felt uncannily familiar despite that. He dropped the Hat so he could grasp the object in both his hands and raised it high above his head.
The Sword of Gryffindor glinted in the morning sunlight. Its magic rippled through Neville's skin, into the tissue and bones of his hands, as if it was fusing with him, becoming an extension of his limb, a part of him.
Kill the snake. Harry's words echoed through his mind.
The snake was arching and slithering away from Voldemort's neck and with a force Neville hadn't known he'd possessed, he brought the Sword down, cutting easily through the neck of the serpent. The head came away in one clean swipe and spun through the air, before landing with a thump on the ground.
Neville saw Voldemort open his mouth in torment but barely heard his scream through the triumphant cries of those that had witnessed the attack, the galloping hooves of centaurs and the clashing of spells.
Voldemort, his slit eyes glaring furiously at Neville, reached for his wand and Neville felt a rising panic before noticing the shimmer of a shield charm separate him from the dark wizard.
"Harry!" Hagrid was yelling. "Harry - WHERE'S HARRY?"
Neville kept hold of the sword in one hand whilst reaching for his wand in the other. The Sword still felt like an extension of him, light and natural, and so he continued to fight, casting spells in one hand and swiping with the huge blade with the other. It seemed to know what to do before Neville even did, and he couldn't help wondering at the weapon's magic.
Theo had been about to give up hope. As he stood among the dismayed crowd on the steps of Hogwarts School, his mind started reeling – about how he could keep Parvati safe – and Daphne too – about how and when they could escape, assuming Voldemort would now claim power.
But then, as the Sorting Hat was set ablaze on top Longbottom's head, a hundred or so witches and wizards streamed towards the scene, all blasting curses towards the Death Eaters. Then giants appeared – seemingly on the side of the Light – and Centaurs arrived, their arrows soaring high into the air before descending towards the frantically dispersing crowd of Death Eaters. The reinforcements grew in the form of Thestrals, and a hippogriff of all things, that started to scratch out the eyes of a hostile giant.
But it was the disappearance of Harry Potter's body that restored Theo's hope. Because it allowed him to wonder whether the Boy-Who-Lived had lived again.
The fight somehow moved inside the Great Hall, and he nearly got floored by a curse of Rowle's, but someone protected Theo from the Death Eater by casting a shield charm just in time. Theo looked around, searching for his defender, and his heart lurched as he saw Luna fighting Bellatrix LeStrange, alongside Ginny Weasley and Granger. A killing curse skimmed the Weasley girl's ear.
"Not my daughter, you BITCH!"
It was like fire and fury had been born out of Molly Weasley's very womb. She ran towards the scene, her wand erupting with a succession of curses as she began to duel Bellatrix.
The crowd fell to the side of the room, Theo and Parvati with them, as they watched the two women duel alongside Voldemort, who was duelling McGonagall, Slughorn and Shacklebolt.
Theo watched as Bellatrix goaded the Weasley matriarch about the death of her son, and thought again of how people like Bellatrix underestimated the ferocious rage of protection that a mother's love could conjure. Finally, Molly Weasley fired a curse that made the twisted sneer on Bellatrix's face freeze and her body stiffen as she fell to the ground, dead.
Voldemort screamed at the loss of his most devoted follower. He blasted his three adversaries backwards and turned to Molly.
"Protego!" the cry came out of nowhere. As Theo's eyes raked the Hall for the source of the cry, his heart lurched as Harry Potter appeared, seemingly out of thin air.
"Harry!"
"He's alive!"
It seemed he had, indeed, lived again. But the yells of joy and relief didn't last long, as Voldemort and Harry Potter started circling each other in the middle of the Hall. Theo instinctively reached for Parvati's hand; they'd managed to stay together for the entirety of the battle and he wasn't going to let that change now.
"I don't want anyone else to help," Potter declared loudly. The crowd quieted to a deathly silence. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."
Theo and the rest of the fighters stood watching as one of the darkest wizards of all time and a seventeen-year-old boy with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead continued to circle each other. A bolt of horrified realisation jolted through Theo as Potter talked about Horcruxes, as he explained to the corrupted soul of Tom Riddle about the power of love. About how it was the latter which meant the man who Voldemort thought was one of his most faithful servants had actually turned and worked against him, and finally, about the allegiance of the Elder Wand.
The morning sun rose above the ledges of the windows of the Great Hall, its rays momentarily blinding Theo, as the cries of spells, clear and final, rang through the air:
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Expelliarmus!"
A torrent of blinding light burst from both Potter's and Voldemort's wands; green collided with white in the centre of their circle in a dazzling explosion.
Theo watched, disbelieving but elated, as Voldemort's wand was wrenched from his hand and soared in a high arc through the air, rejecting the wizard it didn't recognise as its master. Potter caught it neatly in his hand as Voldemort fell backwards to the floor.
Theo felt it – he felt it where the Dark Mark had been burned into his flesh. The chronic, insipid burning that he'd felt ever since he'd taken the Mark faded. With blissful relief, he felt the dark magic that tethered him to the mark dissipate and dissolve.
He knew then. He knew, without having to look at the blank face and shrunken body of the dark wizard that lay on the Hall floor, that Tom Riddle was finally dead.
"It's over?" Parvati turned to Theo, clenching his hand tightly, not wanting to believe it, lest she be bitterly disappointed if she were wrong, even as the hundreds gathered in the Great Hall cheered around them. She knew Padma was okay – they'd kept in communication throughout the battle – but she still couldn't allow herself to believe it was finally over.
Theo relinquished his hand from Parvati's and used it to roll up the sleeve of his left arm, revealing his Dark Mark. It was still there, but had faded somehow. Whereas before it had emitted an uncanny kind of magic to any who looked at it, now it looked innocuous, unremarkable even. It was enough to convince Parvati, and relief flooded her. They'd be okay – Theo and her – they would be okay now.
"It's over, Parvati. All of it," Theo reassured. "And – no more hiding."
He grinned – a real, genuine smile that Parvati had never seen before. And there, in the midst of the Great Hall, amongst his fellow students and teachers, and the captured Death Eaters who were too injured to Disapparate away, he kissed her.
Neville laid the Sword of Gryffindor down on one of the long tables that had been pushed to the side of the Hall. As if knowing there was no use for it now, it glimmered brightly for a moment before disappearing. Neville intuitively knew it had gone to where it would be safe.
He turned to see Seamus approaching him, bloodied and bruised, swiping a hand through his hair agitatedly, with Dean just behind him.
"Have you seen Lavender?" Seamus asked.
"No, mate," Neville replied regretfully. "Sorry. Last I heard she was fighting Greyback just before the ceasefire."
Seamus' frown deepened as he caught sight of something over Neville's shoulder. "What the fuck?!" he exclaimed, drawing his wand from his pocket.
Neville turned and saw what had outraged his friend so much: Parvati was engaged in an extremely deep kiss with Theodore Nott. Neville had only just registered his surprise when Seamus stepped towards them, pointing his wand at Nott's torso.
"Hey!" the Irish boy exclaimed indignantly.
The couple abruptly pulled back from their kiss and looked at Seamus in alarm. Nott eyed the boy's wand warily.
"Seamus, it's fine," a quiet voice said and Neville turned to see Padma approach. Another wave of surprise rolled over him as he saw that Padma's hand was clasped in Daphne Greengrass'. Both girls had dirt and ash smeared on their faces and hair, and Daphne had a bloodied bandage tied around her arm.
"Oh, sis!" Parvati rushed to Padma and pulled her to her in a tight hug.
"What. The hell. Is going on?" Seamus spat out, his wand darting between Nott and Daphne with every word.
"Seamus – it's fine," Parvati repeated her twin's words. "They've been helping us the whole year. And they've just been fighting – on our side!"
Parvati's word's triggered memories for Neville of his time in the dungeons: the reprieve that Nott had given him by temporarily extinguishing his Boggart, and how Parvati had been in the cell next door. He remembered how Parvati had inexplicably gotten the password for Snape's office, and had supplied them with information about what was going on outside.
"He was your source?" Neville asked.
Parvati smiled hesitantly, nodding. "Yes."
A small crowd had gathered around them, and there was a silence as the members of Dumbledore's Army took in the news. Seamus' arm loosened but he didn't lower his wand, and the crowd stood still and apprehensive as an air of hostility emitted from him.
It was Luna who broke the tension, by stepping forward and placing her hand gently on Seamus' arm. "I think we've all been fighting long enough now Seamus, don't you think? Maybe it's time to set your wand down."
Seamus' eyes flicked to Luna, then back to Nott. He nodded. "Fine," he bit out.
Parvati stepped towards Seamus hesitantly. "Shall we go and look for Lavender?" she suggested.
Seamus, his face still hard but eyes soft, nodded and followed Parvati and Nott out the room.
About an hour after Voldemort finally fell, Neville found himself walking out of the crumbling entrance of the castle with Luna and Ginny. They paused at the top of the steps and silently surveyed the destruction before them. They seemed to be the only living beings around, everyone having either found somewhere to rest, or else continuing to help the recovery effort.
The courtyard was eerily quiet, with wisps of smoke and used magic hanging in the air. In the growing light, the devastation that had been wrought by the battle was coming into sharper focus. The body of a giant lay across the cobbles, his legs buried under a collapsed wall, clutching in his hand the body of a Death Eater that no one had yet recovered.
Neville's knees suddenly weakened and he slumped down on the top step. Exhaustion seemed to be finally catching up with him. Wordlessly, Ginny sat down beside him, with Luna on her other side. The three exchanged small smiles, and Neville felt a complex mix of emotions: happiness that it was all finally over, relief that his two friends had survived it all with him, but a simmering foreboding as well, that came from the knowledge that not everyone had been as lucky.
He turned back to the courtyard and watched with detachment as a body burned in the dying flames of the battle's fires. Neville remembered the words Padma had spoken all those months ago, on the second day of the school year, in this very courtyard: 'Where books are burned, in the end, people will also be burned'.
"Where's Harry, Ron and Hermione?" Neville asked Ginny. He'd have thought Harry wouldn't leave Ginny's side after finally being reunited with her after all these months.
"He snuck off with Ron and Hermione. I think they had one last thing they had to do," Luna replied.
"Of course they did," Ginny retorted wryly.
"I'm sure he'll explain things to you," Neville said.
Ginny nodded. "He said he'd tell me everything. But I have stories to tell him too. Those three aren't the only ones who've been fighting this last year."
Neville found himself putting an arm around Ginny, and she in turn laid her head on his shoulder, as she reached out to Luna and the two girls interlinked their fingers together and clasped hands. The wordless gestures seemed enough for the three friends in that moment. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, looking out at the courtyard which housed seven years of memories for the three of them.
Neville could see the remnants of the far wall, where Harry, Ron and Hermione had huddled around the blue fires that Hermione made during chilly break-times; sometimes the three had let Neville into their tight circle. He remembered the spot where Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had tripped him up in his second year, causing his books to go flying and the plant he'd be carrying to smash to the ground, sparking a fight between the Slytherin boys and Seamus and Dean who'd been standing nearby and had witnessed it all. Neville eyed the shattered and scattered remains of the Phoenix statue, where the Hufflepuffs had stood giving pro-Cedric speeches during the Triwizard Tournament, their 'Potter stinks' badges flashing on their chests. Despite the fact she'd also worn one, Neville had still thought Hannah's hair was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen.
As his mind turned over these sweet and bitter memories, he felt someone come and sit by his side and take his hand wordlessly in hers. He knew without turning around, knew by the feel of her skin against his that it was Hannah. Over the next few moments, the four of them were joined by Padma and Daphne, and Susan, Ernie and Anthony, who came and sat quietly on the steps in front of them.
After another fifteen minutes or so, Seamus, Parvati and Nott came out and sat down with them. Seamus's shoulders sank defeatedly and Neville noticed Nott squeeze Parvati's hand.
"Any luck?" Padma asked
Parvati shook her head. "We can't find her anywhere."
"But there's still places we haven't looked – they won't let us near half the castle, not until they've made it more stable," Seamus said, and Luna gave him an encouraging smile.
A few moments later, Terry came striding down the steps and turned to look back up at the group. His dirt-covered face looked bitter and wretched. He surveyed his fellow Army members, his lips trembling in the way they did when someone was trying to hold back tears. The group looked at him, waiting patiently.
"Michael didn't make it," he finally burst out. "I knew - I knew he was too weak form what the Carrows did to him - I knew he shouldn't have fought -"
His face collapsed and he was sobbing. Neville felt something break inside him. Anthony stood up and put his arms around Terry, mumbling words Neville couldn't hear, as he helped his friend sit down on the steps beside them. The group were quiet for some moments, the only sounds were the distant rumblings from inside the castle as people continued the recovery effort, and Terry's quiet sobs.
As the sun rose higher over the school, Terry's crying quietened and an odd kind of peace settled over the courtyard again. Then Luna raised her wand and a flock of kingfishers, in numerous shades of blue, burst from its end, flying high into the morning sky. As the group watched them, Neville remembered Michael's Patronus, and raised his wand to the sky too, conjuring a non-verba l Avis C harm. Numerous ruby and crimson kingfishers flew from his wand, up in dancing circles towards the sun. Then Terry and the rest of the group did the same – they all raised their wands, sending a huge flock of the birds, in a myriad colours, up into the sky, in silent tribute to their fallen friend.
Neville wasn't sure how long the group sat there – Luna had fallen asleep on Ginny's shoulder and some of the group had started to talk quietly amongst themselves – when purposeful footsteps clattered down the steps beside them. Neville saw the swish of dark purple robes matted with dirt and blood go past him, before the feet stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned to face them.
He looked up with heavy eyelids and saw McGonagall looking up at them with a characteristically stern expression. She inhaled deeply, like she often did before starting a lecture in class, but then paused. The group waited in anticipation.
"You are all sitting," she said haughtily. "In a rather inconvenient place."
There was a momentary silence before a quiet chuckling rippled through the group of friends. By now, they had faced far more frightening things than McGonagall's chagrin. The teacher's eyes softened, and the side of her mouth turned up, as if she was sharing the joke.
"This is the main thoroughfare in and out of the school, and we will be using it greatly in the coming hours."
"Okay professor, we'll move," Padma responded politely. Tiredness must have been evident in Padma's voice because McGonagall's face softened and she smiled sadly.
"Have you all been checked by Madam Pomfrey and her Healer Helpers?" the teacher enquired.
There was a chorus of mumbled 'yes''.
"Well, if not, please see them to check any ailments. You must all be exhausted. There's a room set up for those to rest in, although you may prefer to go to – " McGonagall stopped, as if interrupting herself. "There is a passage to the seventh floor that has been secured – it should be safe to go there, if you must."
Neville's heart fluttered – she must be talking about the Room of Requirement, and he realised there wasn't anywhere else he'd rather be, nor anyone else he'd rather be with than the people with him now.
As the group struggled to their feet and turned to traipse into the school, McGonagall spoke again.
"Just – one more thing," the group turned and looked back at her. To his surprise, Neville thought he saw the glistening of tears in her eyes. "I did not want any of you to fight. I wanted to try and protect the students – my students – to the last. But I knew there would be no stopping you if I tried. Your actions all year had earned you the right to make that decision yourselves.
"And – in all my life, I have never witnessed such bravery from those so young as I have this evening. Not to mention such impressive magical skill. We will not forget it – this school will not forget it. I know the last year has been incredibly hard, harder than any of you should have had to endure. And I know what you all did for this school, and for it's more vulnerable students. The courage when faced with danger, the quick thinking when under such immense pressure, the kindness you showed when it was so hard to look after yourselves let alone others," McGonagall's eyes flitted to Nott, "not to mention the subtle cunning used to help your friends – none of it will not be forgotten."
The group stood still; everyone else seemed as unsure as Neville was about how to respond to such an emotional speech from Professor McGonagall. Her eyes, still glistening with unspilled tears, glided over the group, and settled on him. He smiled at her, trying to convey his understanding, and she nodded at him briefly.
The group mumbled 'thank yous' and 'goodbyes' as they turned and finally made their way into the castle, trudging through the ruins and up to the painting of Barnabus the Barmy on the seventh floor. It seemed that they all wanted to return to this room together, the place that had kept them safe. The door appeared and they passed through it, noting that the room remained unchanged since before the battle. But as Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Nott passed through the door, clasping their hands of Padma and Parvati respectively, there was the loud sound of rustling fabric.
Neville's eyes, along with the rest of the Army's, looked up at the ceiling to see a fourth banner unveil itself, adorned with Salazar's coat of arms and the green and silver colours of Slytherin House. Neville smiled, as he and Hannah found a hammock to curl themselves up into, in the place that had very much become the Fifth Common Room of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Notes: Huge thanks to Rachael and IKEAwhatyoudidthere for your help.
And so? What do you think? I'd love to know!
