Author's note: Enjoy!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the canon, world, and characters portrayed below and you can tell I'm not J.K. Rowling because #transrights

Hogwarts: Ravenclaw, Assignment #7, DIY and Home Repairs 2, Write about something risky or dangerous

Content Warnings: Canon-compliant bigotry, bullying, and torture (Carrows at Hogwarts)

The Harm We Can Name

It took every ounce of willpower in Neville's body not to go bouncing off like a rabbit the second they heard Alecto Carrow's telltale footprints, the ones that echoes from her steel-toed boots. But if he ran, the Carrows would give chase. And Luna still hadn't bounced back completely from her sprained ankle, Ginny had gotten a fair share of the cruciatus curse from her detention only two days ago, and Seamus wouldn't go anywhere without the girls. So no; it was better if Neville lagged behind and bought them some extra time to weasel their ways back to Gryffindor Tower. Last they'd seen Peeves, he was on the third floor hanging all the portraits in the hall upside down. He might be tempted to help them out if they explained just how badly they were breaking school rules, buy them another handful of extra seconds. He'd been rather friendly with the DA this year. Maybe he'd help, yeah… that's what Neville tried to focus on as he heard the Carrows turn the corner.

"Longbottom!" Amycus Carrow said, instantly recognizing him—either by his build, his favourite and distinctively stripey sweater, or because it was always Neville who was out and about and causing this kind of trouble. They were coming from the South of the castle, which meant they hadn't even seen the new tags that had been spray-painted on the wall (with an extra potent and durable paint that Ernie MacMillan had concocted during Potions). They still looked plenty pissed as it was, though.

"Don't move a muscle, Longbottom," Alecto said. "And that's 150 points from Gryffindor."

"We actually only had 74 points last time I checked, and I don't know if the hourglasses count a deficit of points," Neville said.

"Feeling smart tonight, Longbottom?" Amycus asked. "Why are you out of bed four hours after curfew?"

"It's the best time to see the moon," Neville said plainly. "Yourselves?"

"Shut your mouth. What did you and your little friends do this time?"

"Does it look like I have any friends with me?" Neville asked, looking over both his shoulders to scan the area. "Unlike yours, mine aren't imaginary, you see."

He'd never been one to talk back before, but it came rather easily to him when it went to the excellent cause of giving his friends time to escape safely. Ginny would be so pissed that he'd hung back, but so be it. Neville only hoped that they'd get a message out to Hannah that he might need healing in the morning, depending on what the pair of Death Eaters decided to do to him. The Carrows never let their own victims see Madam Pomfrey; the poor head matron had spent the first few weeks of the term pale and worried and losing her mind. She'd visibly lost weight, which couldn't be good, and the girls had told him that she fretted extra hard when they went to. At least they had Hannah, who got some very good advice and even supplies tucked into her pockets if she ever dropped by the infirmary to ask Madam Pomfrey some totally hypothetical questions.

"Look at that mouth on you," Amycus said. "Just like your parents."

Neville clenched his jaw and his fists. What he wanted to do was deck Amycus for bringing them up or, better yet, tell him that either of his parents had more strength in their fingertips than the Carrows put together. But he knew that wasn't what his parents would want him to do, if they were in any shape to give him advice about the mess he was in. Remus had told him enough about them and the way that they'd acted as Aurors and Order members to know that his parents had worked hard and worked smart. Neville had never been much for school, but he was intelligent enough to have figured out that he'd need to do the same in this hellscape called Hogwarts. Resistance was a long-term project for the DA, and so Neville wouldn't give the Carrows the satisfaction. They deserved it about as much as Bellatrix Lestrange would deserve a rope if she were dangling off a cliff. That image was actually cheerful enough to help him keep it together.

"Quiet now?" Amycus said. "I can fix that."

"No," Alecto said. "No, that's enough out of Longbottom. Somebody's having fun playing games with us, like a little child acting out. We'll bring him to Severus."

It was harder for Neville not to react to that. Of course, he'd known that he'd be dragged to the headmaster's office eventually. He, and everybody else in the DA, were aware of how risky the things they were doing were. Ginny had already been sent—after Alecto had rhetorically challenged her class to find a way in which Harry Potter measured up to Lord Voldemort's power and influence, and Ginny had politely informed her that there was only one of the two that she'd willingly snog. That had been rather legendary. Still, it was honestly quite surprising that Neville had gotten two months into the school year before this happened.

But now that it was happening, a very old, and very irrational, fear tingled up Neville's spine at the thought. Then again, was it really irrational? Snape had killed Dumbledore, after all. Neville had spent the last seven years of his life terrified of him for completely different reasons, of course, but that fear suddenly felt real and immediate and logical now that it had replaced the anger and fury that the halfway decent chunks of the Wizarding World felt on the subject of Severus Snape. Neville's cheeks were hot and his hands were clammy, as if he was about to write an exam again. He rubbed them against his jeans as casually as he could.

"You'll have to show me the way, I'm afraid," he said, summoning the last bravado that he was capable of. Alecto grabbed his arm and when Neville tried to wrestle away, Amycus grabbed the other and the two of them dragged him forwards.

They made it up a staircase and down a hall when Peeves appeared through the floor, cackling.

"Not now, you idiot poltergeist!" Alecto growled. But the ghost simply laughed and pulled the carpet out from under them. All three of them tumbled to the ground, Neville smiling but Alecto and Amycus cussing out good old Peeves as they went down. They shot sparks at him and threatened to call in an exorcist as Peeves zipped away, shouting some colourful limericks about Amycus's endowment loudly enough for the whole castle to hear. Neville hoped they did, as he got back to his feet. Neville was thankful for the ghost's petty chaoticness, whether he'd been sent by the other DA members or had come out of his own strange whims.

Amycus grabbed him again, her fingers digging into his flesh even harder this time, and off they went. That was probably good, because when they were still Neville felt like throwing up.

It didn't take long to get to the headmaster's office, which Neville had rarely seen before. Dumbledore had only summoned him once, to ask him if he was okay after meeting Bellatrix Lestrange after the Battle at the Department of Mysteries. Neville's hands had been sweaty then and they were absolutely drenched now. He did not want to face Severus Snape in any capacity, and especially not in his own office.

"Stay here, I'll see if he's up," Alecto said before making her way up past the gargoyle that guarded the circular entrance.

Neville looked at his feet, struggling not to look anxious in any way. He wouldn't give Amycus that satisfaction either—the Carrows got sass out of him, or he was a stone wall. That was his policy with war criminals, he'd decided. He tried to hang on to that by thinking back to something else Remus had said, long ago, to make Snape less scary. He closed his eyes and imagined his grandmother's clothes; the handbag, the hat… he added the new, dreadfully green velvet coat she'd recently acquired to his image of Snape—dallying on the godawful fur lining the cuffs and collar…

That's what he was busy thinking of when Alecto reappeared, motioning them forwards. Amycus shoved Neville forwards, but he was too stressed to think of a clever comeback so he focused instead on standing straight and looking forwards, face impassive and breathing even, as he marched up the stairs. His knees, fortunately, did not buckle under the weight of him.

The Headmaster's office was unchanged from when Neville had last seen it, aside from the fact that Snape was now sitting behind the desk—which was a stomach-churningly awful change if there ever was one. Snape hadn't even changed himself; his hair fell in as severe and greasy a veil, his robes were just as plain and black, and he looked just as pale and displeased to see Neville as he usually did. This time, judging by the open book before him, he'd interrupted some reading. Neville kept his eyes on Snape, trying to imagine that gawdy turquoise necklace of Gran's around Snape's neck, and maybe the matching earrings on his ears too. It didn't help, really, because that was an old trick Remus had taught him to deal with a completely different person. A bully, a bitter man who shouldn't be around children, a bad teacher. Snape was a Death Eater, now. A murderer. A traitor.

And somehow, that made it easier for Neville to hold his head up now. Because it had been hard for Neville to stand up when he'd been a child, but he was a soldier now. Because it had been hard for Neville to verbalize all the ways Snape had terrified and harmed him over the years, but it was easy not just to name but to hate and condemn the hurt Snape gave now. So Neville met Snape's eyes and maintained his gaze as the Carrows marched him forwards and stationed him in front of Snape's desk. Snape was obviously intrigued by this, and only looked away to consult the Carrows.

"Explain why I am being bothered in the middle of the night," he said in that cool voice that had always unsettled Neville.

"Longbottom and his friends have been wandering the castle at all hours," Alecto said. "We've caught them vandalizing the school, and we believe we can link them to other instances in which they weren't caught in the act."

"And so what was he doing tonight?" Snape asked. "And where are those friends of his you speak of?"

"We sent Filch to comb the halls, see if he could find them," Alecto said. "Or figure out exactly what they were doing."

"I will repeat myself one more time, and one more time only," Snape said. "Explain why I am being bothered in the middle of the night."

"He's refusing to speak."

Technically I wasn't refusing to speak, you just didn't like what I was saying, Neville wanted to point out. He decided to keep that to himself, however. Right now, silence was working to his advantage.

"Is that so, Mr Longbottom?" Snape asked him coolly.

Neville met his eyes. Now that he'd decided not to speak, a thousand insults burned at his lips. But Neville kept them in and squared his shoulders.

"Come on now, speak," Amycus said, drawing his wand.

Neville braced himself for it.

"Cru—"

"Amycus, do you so doubt my ability to have a single child cooperate with me?" Snape said smoothly and disdainfully. "Put away your wand and get out, both of you."

The Carrows hesitated but made themselves scarce, probably unwilling to oppose orders from a Death Eater closer to You-Know-Who than they were. Then, it was just Neville and the murderer. The Death Eater. The traitor. And Neville wasn't afraid of cowards like that.

"Sit," Snape said.

Neville stayed where he stood. Snape gave him a moment. Adrenaline rushed through Neville's body in the most exhilarating, satisfying way—like a shot of Firewhiskey directly into his bloodstream.

"Do you want me to cast an Imperius curse on you?" Snape asked.

"You would without asking if you really wanted me to sit so badly," Neville said.

Snape crossed his arms at that, and examined Neville again—in a quiet acknowledgement that he was right, after all. People didn't ask before using unforgivable curses. So Neville stayed where he was, head high, chin tilted, eyes looking straight ahead, forcing his breathing to come out nice and even.

"What changed?" Snape finally asked.

Neville frowned for a moment before remembering that he was a stone wall, but Snape must have caught the sliver of confusion on his face.

"The boy you were last year would never have imagined behaving like this," Snape said. "Leading a group. Mouthing off to teachers. Breaking curfew, vandalizing the school, disregarding rules, disobeying so brazenly. What changed?"

He looked at Snape again and let himself enjoy the euphoria that simmered in the pit of his stomach as he realized just how unafraid he was. He was conscious of the other headmasters watching him, even as they pretended to sleep in their elegant gilded frames, but Neville didn't care about them. He didn't care about anything in this moment.

"Maybe I finally had a good look at you and realized that I didn't need to feel so bad when I looked in the mirror," Neville said. It was bold, but it felt right. It was right. "Can I go back to my dormitory or do you also intend to torture children in your spare time, Headmaster?"

Snape leaned back in his chair.

"Go on," Snape said. "But know that I will not interfere in your favour again."

"You've never done anything in my best interest, but thanks. I'll keep that in mind," Neville said as he turned and left, head held effortlessly high. On his way out of the office, because he could and because he knew Snape wouldn't act on it and alert the Carrows to any sign that he himself had lost control of a mere student, he spat on the floor of Snape's office. He looked up and met the Headmaster's eyes.

"That's for everything," he said before disappearing down the spiral staircase.

WC: 2388