Disclaimer: I do not own anything, except my own storyline and OC's, Just FYI.

Chapter 35: Noble Companion

He threw a couple test spells out, which fizzled ineffectively against the wall across from him. The third was slightly more effective, and a faint hiss was heard but nothing effective really came out. Tuning back to his notes, he studied them once more.

It was his first attempt to create a spell, assigned to him by Flitwick and Dumbledore, for part of his Transfiguration mastery, which if all went according to plan, he'd earn at the end of his fifth year. The time-consuming part was studying, as his practical magic was second only to Dumbledore at the moment, and he knew he needed to get better.

Harry's chosen creation was an offshoot of Fiendfyre, to create a less dark version so that he could have a better handle on it. Should it work, he imagined it would be relatively similar to the Patronus, a magical fire created from anger whose appearance would change based on the caster. At least, that was his intent. For now he'd settle for something a little less spectacular.

So, whipping his wand in the air, and driving it down in a sharp arc he cried out:

'Patronicium ignis!'

Out of his wand erupted a massive conjured serpent of fire, who's size rivaled that of the Basilisk. It tore through the wall, seemingly on a rampage as it continued to charge though two whole classrooms before he ended it. Thankfully, a strong reparo that left him somewhat breathless fixed the issues. It appeared especially draining, but he was excited. Now, he could work on perfecting it, then modifying, and eventually creating his own spell branch as on offshoot of the cursed fire.

Thankfully, while these were less effective overall and didn't hold the natural potency and semi-conscience of the Ancient Flames, these would work better in a duel, as they were much easier to control. Unfortunately, now that he;d finished this, he was left to reflect on his budding relationship.

It wasn't that he disliked Daphne, but neither was she who he imagined. Her fierce temper and strong comebacks seemed somewhat more subdued, and she'd horrifically invited him to Madam Puddifoots, then seemed disappointed when he resignedly agreed. It was confusing, he couldn't understand what she was thinking anymore, and he much preferred when all he had to do was give a quick glance over.

Unfortunately, due to his overall dislike of most of the students there wasn't really anyone he could go to for advice, so he had given in to just agreeing with whatever and leaving it at that. It likely wasn't healthy, but he couldn't think of anything else to do. He had considered that she might be testing him as well as his boundaries, but he'd left that trail of thought alone, as there wasn't much he could do to confirm it. Damn those dastardly Dursleys, they'd left him with very poor social skills.

Ah well, there wasn't anything he could do to change that so instead he focused once more on his spell, practicing carefully. Unfortunately, for now there was little he could do but prepare for the second task, as his patience for the Golden Egg had long since run out. He did not enjoy the ringing of his ears.


Neville Longbottom was a bit of a coward.

He couldn't find the courage to do much, stuttering every time he spoke and afraid of his own shadow. His Gran had told him many times he was a failure, and would never live up to his fathers legacy.

'He was a War Hero,' she would say, then proceed to belittle him for everything he did differently. He had been given his fathers wand, even though Neville had learned the Ash and Unicorn Hair would never attach themselves to him, but his Gran would hear none of it. He was certainly proud of his Dad but Neville was not his father. It was tiring, especially when she refused to allow him to see his parents more than once a year. With their loss of sanity and her lack of support, he was little more than an orphan.

As such, when he heard the large explosion of fire after a particularly long letter from the only person who could raise his ire so, he surprised himself when he wandered over. After all, what could he do, a magicless squib completely unable to do anything? Compared to Harry Potter, his supposed equal, Neville was but a gnat not annoying enough to be squashed.

The halls of Hogwarts were eerily quiet, and fatefully empty. He'd rarely wandered the many corridors but his anger was nearly tipping over the edge of a cauldron of repressed stress, and to cool off he'd chosen this path. The many tapestries watched him, each one either a beautiful piece of art or a horrific blotch on the world. The Grey stone echoed his steps as he carefully reached for the metal door handle which held the source of sound.

Inside, he looked on with wide eyes as Harry Potter, THE Harry Potter, twirled his wand around in what seemed to almost be a dance, waving around a serpent of fire. It almost looked like what he had imagined Fiendfyre, but instead appeared to be smaller than the many images of people being horrifically burned he'd seen, and rather than a bright orange it was a vivid green.

But somehow Harry captured his attention more than the spell, for the way he moved was fluid, fast, almost like he was orchestrating a large contingent of classical musicians, each wave precise as the magical fire flowed around him. It was beautiful, for every time Neville had seen Harry there was confidence and poise, but behind that, something he suspected only he could see due to the eerie similarities of their situations, a burden to be better. Expectations raised upon him by those around.

But now the Ravenclaw boy who appeared to be untouchable seemed vulnerable, yet still more dangerous. As if every care he held was whipped away with every twirl of his wand, eyes closed as he appeared to lose himself in the spell. Every step appeared pre-planned, every swift flick of a wrist smoother than water. But there was also an aura of darkness that was practically growing, a fierce strength borne from trial and tribulation.

'He's tired,' Neville realised, and as he thought more about it, why wouldn't he? Shunned by his peers for the second time, pressures to be the best built upon his shoulders, and the responsibility of his power carried atop every part of him. The fact he would have to face so many dangers, Voldemorts followers were still out there, and every person who wanted a piece of his power trying to control him. It would be more shocking if he wasn't.

Neville had faced more than his share of power-hungry foes as future Lord Longbottom, even if his Gran had scared off many, but it would be nowhere near the attempts Harry would face, and there was no Gran to block them. He had no one on his side, and now that his actual power level had been revealed to the world in the latest Daily Prophet, it would only grow more. Honestly, Neville expected that Harry would be buried in letters the next morning.

So he watched as Harry danced around, switching fighting forms effortlessly as any care appeared to be gone, the weight of his heritage, the ostracization of his peers, the betrothal to Daphne Greengrass the Ice Queen, everything. His black robes with emerald and sapphire trim twirled around him in a circle, as everything washed away and Neville watched every stress, every crease he hadn't noticed before disappear.

It was at this he realized he was watching something intensely personal. It wasn't conscious, but it slowly grew over him that what he was seeing may be something no one was meant to. Harry was practically a God amongst men compared to him in normal circumstances, and in this moment he was far more human than he felt comfortable seeing his idol. Yet at the same time there was something inhuman about it, almost… serpentine. It kept drawing his attention, and he couldn't tear his eyes away long enough to fully comprehend he should leave.

The Emerald Snake flowed around as well, circling his caster in a protective manner, as if to ward off those who would disturb him. Fangs displayed themselves, and for the briefest moment Neville thought he might have glimpsed a forked tongue flicking through it's lipless mouth. Even the scales were burning, though they dissolved into pure fire by the end. It appeared to be growing, steadily gaining mass as i it's power was rolling off.

Now, Neville was not an ordinary wizard. It was one reason his Gran had been disappointed in him, for when he had gotten his magical inheritance test he had classed somewhat smaller than Dumbledore in raw potential, more than that of an average wizard, and his most distinct magical ability was magical empathy. It was a rather vague one that hadn't been studied much, but with it he could sense the emotions necessary to cast a spell, along with knowing a vague knowledge of what it did when he first encountered it.

It also told him the power needed to cast one, and that which was rolling off the green serpent was beyond his own strength. Perhaps when he was fully trained he could wield it, but for now he was too weak. Even more so than Millicent Bulstrode, and that was saying something. So when he felt the power rolling off the spell, he began to grow concerned for Harry. It would be draining him to keep it up for so long, and he was torn.

On one hand, it was dangerous to keep such a spell up so continuously, but on the other he looked so uncaring for once that it almost seemed a crime to disturb that peace. But, in the end, logic prevailed over emotion and he stepped in, stuttering out a greeting.

'H-Hello, H-Harry.' With that, the orchestra was over and quick as a flash, a black wand carved with an intricate detail at the pommel he couldn't quite make out pointed straight in between his eyes, glowing green staring directly into dark hazel, the emerald snake gone.

Finally, his acquaintance realized who it was and lowered his wand, though there was a tenseness there and Neville noticed that the stress was back, almost unnoticeable if he hadn't just seen the 'dancing.'

'Hello Neville Longbottom, What are you doing here?'

'I was just exploring the corridors when I heard an explosion, do you know what happened?' Harry rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

'Ah, yeah, I might have been trying out a new spell. It's a bit destructive.' Neville looked past the teen and realised where he had simply thought it an extra large classroom, a wall had been burned through, light remnants left on the side and ash on the floor.

'What're you doing here? I would have thought you'd be trying to talk with the others to convince them?' Neville realised his stutter disappeared, but attributed it to the easygoing nature of his companion, and the comfort that almost appeared to radiate off him.

'Bah, what's the point? They will not listen to me, so why try and convince them? At least you are not yelling at me for it.'

'But I believe you, they don't.' Harry's eyes widened here, and Neville was confused.

'You do?'

'Well, yeah, and I'm sure plenty in the school do, I would hope at least, but you're really scary mate, and very unforgiving. Most people can't stand to be in the same room as you, the magic that rolls off is quite suffocating.' Now Harry appeared to be extremely befuddled.

'They think I am scary?'

'Well, yeah. I mean I'm really scared of you, I could feel the energy that spell needed and you managed it almost effortlessly. It's just I also know who you are, so do your friends, but they have a lot more pressure when they're well known to be close to you. Do you know how many times they've been interrogated by girls interested in you romantically? Even I've been!' Now Harry just cringed.

'I'm so sorry, I didn't know.'

'I get that, I mean, I only had my Gran for real company when I was younger but I still got a couple acquaintances later on, though I suspect you didn't have anyone our age to talk with. Is that why you suck talking to people so much? Why you're always so formal?'

'I mean….' Harry sighed sitting down in a seat and motioning for Neville to do the same.

'I grew up with the Dursleys, my Aunt and Uncle on my mother's side and their kid. It was unpleasant, to say the least, and Dumbledore told me it didn't let me develop the right social skills, and I did not quite understand what he meant until this year. I just don't know how to talk to people.'

'I thought so. Look, I am no genius at talking with people, it's why I still have this wand.' He raised his Ash and Unicorn Hair, 'Instead of my own, But I do know that you won't get better shunning others. While I have no doubt in the end it won't make that significant an effect on your destiny, you may find that having friends by your side will make all the difference.'

'Or kill them…' Harry mumbled, but Neville wouldn't have any of it.

'Look Harry, watching you has helped my confidence soar, so I'm going to give you some advice in turn. Don't think like that. Your future is your own, it is what you make of it. Hell, for all I know you might turn evil, but at the same time you've got to own up to that. At least by having others by your side, if they do die, they'll die by your side, for what they believed in. You've gone through a lot, more than I can imagine, But the time has come for you to face it. I know you have visions.' He looked pointedly at the boy who had stood up straight now. 'So it is time you face your future, good or bad, and live. Start with your friends. Try and convince them of the truth.' With that, Neville left.

The speech had inspired him to do something of his own. Carefully fishing 10 galleons from his pocket, he slipped into McGonagall's office, grabbed some floo powder and slipped into Diagon Alley. It was an open secret the Deputy Headmistress left her office unlocked most of the time, and many students left to get some Ice Cream from Fortecues. This time though, Neville had a much more important goal than satiating his sweet tooth.

Stepping into the shop, a faint tinkle heard from inside, he carefully moved towards the desk and called for the owner. Peering around, he saw it was made of faded wood, with distinct gold paint on the window and a damp atmosphere that seemed perfect for the purpose of the shop.

'Ahh, Mr Longottom, I wondered when I would be seeing you. Let us begin, shall we?' The voice came from the back and Neville failed to catch even a glimpse of the owner. Waiting patiently, he looked down at his black wand. It wasn't that he didn't want to use it, but his fathers simply wouldn't work anymore. It was far too loyal to even consider passing on to the original owner's son.

Stepping out from a long stack of boxes, Mr Ollivander himself placed down three. Reaching out, Neville took each one, feeling a strong connection to the first. The Wandmaker left once more, and the Gryffindor continued to watch as he now left to another section, pulling out seven boxes. This time, it was the 3rd and 6th.

Ollivander left once more into the endless stacks, as Neville wandered over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a book on herbology. Fascinated, it carried knowledge on several species he hadn't heard of, and as he continued he missed the arrival across the desk of the shop owner.

'Good book?' Startled, Neville nearly dropped it before turning to the speaker. 'No no, don't put it back. If you're curious, you can buy that 20 galleons, no more, it may be old but it is what I paid for it myself. However, let us find your match first, shall we?' Smiling, Neville grasped each one in turn, before landing on the last and he instantly felt the bond made. It was warm and cold, making a distinct difference between the two. Waving it, Neville felt ease over his magic he hadn't felt before. He was nowhere near ever reaching Harry's level, but Perhaps he could be his new friend's equal in other ways. Paying for both the wand and the book, Neville Longbottom left to Hogwarts to practice, missing the final words the Wandmaker spoke.

'Your Loyalty will know no bounds, Mr Longbottom. The bond of brotherhood will be your crucible of Life.'

Neville was finally where he wanted to be. His watching of Harry practicing had allowed his strength to grow, and now he was far stronger than he thought he would ever manage. Next time Flint insulted him he would find a very different result than before. He was finally getting better.

He cast the spell once more, and a Patronus appeared, a Bear, and he was proud. Harry's had changed lately, constantly fluxing between a Stag, a Dragon, a Bird, and a Snake, but it was still better than his. Yet before not even a wisp had appeared, so he considered it improvement. Neville was just glad he knew Harry was so powerful, or he would have even less self-confidence than before. Perhaps he couldn't match him in skill and power, but knowledge was an entirely different hedge.

Most students had read through the theory of sixth year by the end of their fourth, But Neville was already into his NEWTS. The issue was simply that nobody could apply it as the curriculum of Hogwarts was designed around practical magic rather than theoretical, so they could build foundations so the later spells would even be possible.

As a result, his Gran had attempted tutoring him when he was ten as his knowledge was astounding for his age, though likely nowhere near where Hermione or Harry would be he had no doubt, but the stubborn woman just would not let him practice with any wand but his fathers. Now, he was reaching levels that he was surprisingly thankful his Gran made him do that. It let him build a foundation of knowledge. For now, he kept attempting.


Harry studied the marriage contract. He'd attempted to talk with the others, but it'd not gone well. It turned out that of his old friends, Luna believed him but was still a little distant, Draco and Ron were jealous but he could see that beyond the feelings they were still loyal, leading him to believe that if he talked to them afterwards or they got a sudden jolt to realise how dangerous it was, they might believe him. Hermione wanted to know how he'd done it, so he just ignored her and her clear lack of knowledge about him, Trip and Tom seemed to almost believe him, yet there appeared a lingering doubt in their minds that he couldn't trust for now.

Daphne had hurt the most. Cedric still stayed by his side, believing him, but she was to be his wife. They were to be wed and after their first date he'd taken a quick peek into her mind to be sure and found something absolutely shocking. She was spying.

Her and the rest of his friends had come together, and where Ron, Draco and Cedric had left afterwards, the others had stayed to converse about him. Apparently there was a prophecy they believed to be about him and she was to study and find out where he stood. It hurt. He had reached out to another soul and she had betrayed him. Even if her words were true, he hadn't the heart to find out, he would never be able to trust her like he should. So here he was, stuck in a random classroom, now changing every day to avoid detection, figuring a way out. Before, it had been simple, but the new one she'd made him sign appeared to be quite unforgiving to attempts to breach it.

It was as he studied that a loud baning sound went off nearby, but he ignored it in favour of continuing his intent search. Only when he heard heavy breathing did he realise someone had come in. Looking up, he saw the Beaxbaton's champion, Fleur Delacour. She was haughty and arrogant, almost cruel to him before. Now, she appeared to be breathless and vulnerable.

'Hello, Miss Delacour. Why're you here?' She turned suddenly, wand in hand, a glare on her face as he stared passively.

'What are you doing 'ere, 'Arry Potter?' Her anger would have scared a lesser man, but he was not lesser.

'I am studying this little contract for a way to escape it, but I do believe I asked you first.' She sighed, sitting on a seat across from him.

'Escaping boys attempting to be suitors, not that any of them ever had a true chance.' He noted a curiosity in her voice.

'What happened to your accent?'

'There are potions one can take to rid themselves of it. They are not perfect and only work for a month, but it allows me to speak in the tongue and accent of whomever I am speaking to. To me, you are talking in French, 'Arry.'

'Curious. Well, I supposed I shall leave you in peace, and I have my own business.' She grabbed his wrist right before he left.

'Please, I would appreciate company that is not judging or drooling. You are one of the very few close to my age aside from my sister who does not do either.' He raised an eyebrow.

'Miss Delacour, your words were quite cruel to me on the day of the champion selection. I don't see why I owe you anything.'

'No, but I owe you an apology. I am sorry for my presumption, 'Arry.' Now she was just confusing. This was not the confident, brave woman he'd seen on the night of Selection. Here, she was a normal girl he could talk to, and, he mused, he was a normal boy she could talk to as a Veela. Thankfully, his ancestry was easily hidden by power and a strong 'mind-chest.'

'Very well, I suppose I could do with some help to escape this contract. I got out of it once but my intended forced me to sign it again, hoping we would have a future. WIth some recent discoveries, I do not see a way we will succeed.' She stared at him piteously.

'I am very sorry, 'Arry.' His eyes widened.

'Oh no, nothing like that! She simply doesn't believe I did not enter the tournament.' He left out the fact she was trying to figure out if he was evil.

'Ahh, well, allow me to see.' She took the parchment and scanned it dubiously, an eyebrow raising with each clause. 'This is quite the solid contract, 'Arry. But did you not look at this one?' She showed him a small bit of fine print carefully hidden between several sentences that repeated past statements.

'I… wow. Thanks. I'll head to Gringotts now to enact it. I hope you have a wonderful day, Fleur, and I hope we can talk again some time.' SHe smiled softly.

'I hope so as well, 'Arry.'


'Will it work?'

'Yes, Lord Potter, it will work, but it will cost you dearly. Are you sure?' Harry nodded fiercely. 'Very well. As Gringotts Goblin Kragrakk, I hereby dissolve this marriage contract, with the cost of 5 million galleons paid to Gringotts Bank as repayment, and 100 thousand galleons paid to House Greengrass.' A flash of light went off and the paper dissolved, a large weight falling off his shoulders. He was finally free, no longer forced to marry someone he did not love. If he and Daphne fell in love later, that would be fine, but it would not be out of some obligation of his ancestors. All it cost was little more than a fifth of his gold.

He would need to thank Miss Delacour later.


R&R plz! It's a bit weak, but I've been feeling a but iffy about Harry/Daphne lately, so be prepared as there may be a pairing change later.