Chapter Three: Neville Longbottom

They say going back to your roots is cathartic. Like blowing dust off a shelf you've been neglecting for years, or hastily repairing the vase you accidentally smashed on New Year's and praying no-one saw but your Aunt Mildred definitely did and will bring it up at the next event. That's not specific to me.

The truth is, it's not. Going back to your past sucks. It just brings back memories you wish you'd forgotten but that lurk beneath the surface of the lies you tell yourself. Every kid is awful. It's just true. Hormones combined with testing boundaries you don't yet understand is a terrible combination. Add magic and a boarding school into the mix and you've got the children of Hogwarts.

For many, Hogwarts is a nostalgia-filled dreamland. Where everything was perfect and easier. The only reason they think that is because they forgot how crap it could be. I hated Hogwarts. I had one friend, pretended to have loads more until they got into torturing first years and just did my best to keep my head down. Boys noticed me, sort of, I guess. I wasn't popular, so had one or two boyfriends, nothing special. There was a girl too once, but that never would've worked. Even though I wanted it to.

These memories and many more I really don't want to talk about all came flooding back as I crossed through the iron gates onto the hallowed grounds of Hogwarts. It hadn't changed a bit. Hagrid's hut still let out plumes of smoke as I walked up the gravel path to the gigantic castle. His huge dog barked as I passed, scaring some birds in the Forbidden Forest, which creaked ominously in the cool night air.

Neville's first letter hadn't specified where to go but a hurried exchange that morning revealed he wanted to meet in the greenhouses. So, instead of touring the halls of my childhood, I dipped to where I'd agreed to meet Neville. I'd never been very good at Herbology. Plants aren't really my thing. Especially ones that seem to be exclusively designed to kill me. Neville, though, had always had green fingers. Even a Slytherin like me knew that and so it was no surprise when, a few years after the war and Sprout retired, McGonagall picked him as her new Herbology professor.

I found him at a workbench, his back to the door. Stacks of brown pots threatened to crash onto his head as they teetered in huge columns around him. He'd ditched his outer robe and rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong arms that he'd certainly not had at school. I guess everything didn't stay the same. Sometimes for the better.

"It's alright," he was speaking to the plant currently sprawling out over his bench. Roots writhed underneath his grip and then, quite suddenly, a screeching howl pierced the quiet of the greenhouse just as Neville snipped a blackened leaf. Clapping my hands to my ears, remembering the stupid screaming radish things from second year, I watched Neville sprayed the cut with a bottle before shoving the plant unceremoniously into a thick pot.

In my desperation to cover my ears, I'd knocked into one of the tables and seconds later a bottle plummeted to the ground and smashed. "Reparo," I muttered hastily. Just like Aunt Mildred, he noticed too.

"Don't worry," he smiled as I replaced the bottle, now empty of its contents back on the shelf. "It was just water. I like to make sure I've got plenty. Not every plant likes aguamenti."

"I didn't know plants were fussy."

"They're more like us than you think," Neville said happily, looking around at his collection. It was definitely larger than Sprout's. A purple-leafed vine crawled towards me across the beam. "It's not dangerous," Neville told me, as a tendril reached down and touched me. "It's testing you."

"Testing me?"

"Yeah, to see if you're dangerous."

Suddenly self-conscious, I felt every muscle tense. "And am I?"

Neville smiled, warmly. "No, you're fine, see." The vine retracted, seemingly content that I wasn't going to kill it. "Sorry, this place can be a bit much."

"I was never very good at Herbology," I confessed, in a bid to try and explain why I had panicked so much at a plant. Way to go, Davis.

"You sound like Hannah."

"Abbott?"

"Yeah, she's my girlfriend."

"Right," well, that explained that then. If not the Gryffindor trio, then Neville was the closest I was going to get to Voldemort's downfall. Lopping off a giant snake's head was pretty incredible, never mind leading a student resistance for basically a year. I'd spent all day preparing questions, but all my notes seemed pointless seeing him. I'd been picturing the boy I remembered, but Neville had changed. Really changed.

"I'm guessing she told you what I asked her?" He nodded, dusting off soil from the bench he'd been working on before leaning back and folding his arms. He had a relaxed confidence that didn't really match the round-faced boy I had shared Potions with. "Okay, well, that saves some time. I like to start by asking everyone the same thing, if that's okay?"

"Sure."

"So, how did you decide you wanted to fight?" It was the first question I'd asked George at the start of all of this and it felt like the perfect starting point.

"I don't think it's that simple," Neville shrugged. "We just fell into it. First there was the DA, then that fight at the Ministry." What a fun little PR cock-up that was. "Then the Carrows and Snape. You know about that, obviously. By then, I didn't really think I could've stepped back even if I'd wanted to. Without Harry there, people needed someone to look to. They knew me and Ginny and Luna had been close to him. Ginny especially. And we just, well, became these sort of Harrys to them.

"Then when he came back and it all kicked off, what could we do?"

"And did you know?" I asked, before hastily clarifying, "about the snake?"

"No," he almost laughed. "It wasn't planned. I mean, Harry was dead as far as we knew and Voldemort was taunting us. After all of that. No. I couldn't just sit there and when I felt the sword," he motioned to his head where the hat had been sitting all those years ago. "I knew that my chance. My chance to do something that actually mattered."

"So the hat didn't say anything?"

"Nothing, shame really, wish I could've shut it up like that when I was getting sorted."

"You and me both," I grinned, remembering all well the ever so painful deliberation. The first half-blood in over a decade to get sorted into Slytherin. Ambition. Drive. Passion. All true, but they didn't have to be such knobs about it. "And how would you say the battle changed you?"

"Things became easier," Neville admitted. "I used to be terrified of everything. I wouldn't be here without it. I'd never have asked Hannah out. But it's not all good. I didn't sleep for months, I kept having nightmares. Still do sometimes. Did you fight?"

"Erm…" I hated answering this question. "No. I was in Slytherin so..."

"Ah, right. Well, it was terrifying and heartbreaking. I remember they asked for volunteers to go looking for people, during the cease-fire. I was straight up there, I think I hoped I'd be able to find people alive. I didn't think about the bodies. The ones we'd lost."

"That must've been horrible, I'm sorry, Neville. You don't have to —"

"It's fine. That was the hardest thing I think. Finding them. Knowing afterwards we'd have families to tell. Colin was the worst. Me and Wood found him. I'll never forget it." He paused, staring out onto the lawn. "That's what those are," he pointed to a small flower patch outside the greenhouses that I'd not noticed when I entered. "Every one is for people who died. I asked if they have any flowers they wanted. Some did. Colin's that lovely tulip, his parents were muggles. Lavender's there too.

"But for all of that," Neville continued. "I'd do it again."

"Why?"

"Because Voldemort needed stopping and no-one else was going to do anything. That's the thing, when it came down to it someone had to do it. It's just a shame it was us. We'd barely turned of age. Some of us hadn't even done that. A lot of lives cut short."

The Ministry was basically Voldemort-lite and the Order and Harry were scattered trying to just stay alive. When Harry'd appeared at Hogwarts, raving about Horcruxes and destroying Voldemort for good he'd dragged the whole school into it. Those that wanted to fight, anyway.

"When will this all be out?" Neville asked, dragging himself from memories he clearly didn't want to spend too long in.

"About two weeks. Just under."

"And how's it going?"

"Well, I think. No-one's ever managed to speak to you guys before."

"Yeah, well, no-one's bothered asking anyone other than Harry, Ron and Hermione for years. And they just want to get copies sold."

"And I don't?"

"Nah," Neville said, shaking his head. "If you did, you'd never have agreed to hiding all that stuff Susan told you."

"Some of us have got to have principles."

"It's refreshing, after Skeeter and that lot."

"No other witch makes my job harder," I joked, but there was definitely a shred of truth there. Our most high-profile reporter was a liar and breached privacy on about five thousand separate occasions. Genius idea really, being a beetle. Prophet had had a field day when the Quibbler revealed that one.

"I'm surprised you were never in the Quibbler."

"Luna didn't want to turn it political," Neville admitted. "Especially after her dad. She's off travelling at the minute, Norway, I think? But I'll see what I can do with others, if you want?"

"You don't mean?" I didn't dare believe it. No-one and I do mean no-one had ever managed that.

"No promises. But I think they'd like to meet you. Whether they say anything, I don't know. But it's their story too, it's only right they at least get the chance to say something."

"That would be insane and incredible, but you don't have to."

"I want to."

"Why?"

"Because you didn't ask what finding Colin's dead body was like," Neville said, darkly. "And because you were there. I remember Carrow's pet snakes, you weren't one of them. I should know, they tortured me enough."

"I'm sorry about them."

"Me too."

We kept talking for another ten minutes or so, I checked some details with him and then we just got talking about life at Hogwarts. It was cool being able to talk to a Gryffindor about the castle without being hexed for existing, but when the sun began to start its descent over the horizon we both agreed it was probably time to head home.

Daphne was halfway through a book and eating the remnants of the previous night's spaghetti bolognaise when I walked through the door. She had always been the prettier of the two of us, with long blonde hair and icy blue eyes that could penetrate your soul with a single glance. Tied up in a loose ponytail to avoid getting in her food, Daphne still managed to look effortlessly stunning. Unlike most purebloods, Daphne enjoyed living in the centre of muggle Britain. She'd rejected the manor living her mother had set out for her and instead become one of the new muggle cooperation officers. The people that told governments we definitely didn't exist, but if we did then this was what we were up to. There had been one person before and that was on top of their other work. Since Shacklebolt had taken over, there had been greater emphasis on cooperation with the world we hid from.

"You're late," was all she said, not looking up from her book.

"Interview," I never really enjoyed talking after interviews and Daphne respected that. There's only so many people you can handle for one day. I drew my wand and lit the stove, before summoning the pie from the fridge and the potatoes from the cupboard. Another flick started the peeling process and sent the pie into the oven to be cooked.

"Longbottom?"

I hummed, massaging my temples as I leant against the small island counter we had at the centre of our kitchen-cum-living room. It was much bigger than most London flats, mainly thanks to the magic Daphne had cast when we moved in. It should technically only be a room with a shower, but after some alterations it had two bedrooms, a bathroom complete with bath and shower, and a spacious open plan dining/living area.

"Do you ever think we could've done something?" I asked as the potatoes floated into a pan and the water began boiling on the stove.

"Not without getting the shit kicked out of us, no." Daphne said simply, setting down her book and finally looking up at me. "Parkinson and her lot wouldn't have let us leave, Trace. You know that."

"Yeah, course."

"And even if we could, that lot probably would've just thought we were siding with the Death Eaters."

There was definitely some truth there. For a lot of students Slytherins were the same thing. But that didn't stop me from feeling guilty. It had been there for days and I'd been trying to ignore it. Trying and failing.

"Why? Do you wish you did?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do."

"Not everyone's fights are actual fights," Daphne said, more gently than she normally managed. "Merlin's beard, you were seventeen."

"Didn't stop them."

"Didn't make all of them stay either, plenty buggered off through that tunnel. Wish we could've done."

"I know, I just… talking to all these people, I just wish I'd been brave enough to do something. To help."

"You are, aren't you? I thought that's what the point of this was."

"I guess."

"Look, Trace, you can either live regretting the shit you never managed to do and hate yourself for it or you can accept you didn't, move on and smash everything else. I know which one I'd do."

"Well, hopefully this helps."

"It will, promise." Daphne smiled, before getting up off her stool and pulling me into a hug. We were about the same height, so she stood on tiptoe to give me a kiss on the head.

'Accept the things you didn't.' The funny thing was, I'd been doing that for years, she just didn't know. It's hard. Fancying your best mate and knowing that it could never work. I'd thought about moving out so many times but could never quite manage it. This was the closest I was ever going to get. I didn't want to miss out on that too.

We ate dinner and then, after much complaining from me, Daphne convinced me to head out to the Leaky Cauldron. She got drunk. No surprise there. Quite a few wizards looked at her but for once she didn't let them come over. I think she knew I needed her that night. This Hogwarts thing was affecting me more than I thought it would, because there are some regrets you know about and others that just hit you out of nowhere. I should've fought. Should've done something other than just cower and hide. But I didn't. I hid. And I've been ashamed of it ever since.

Maybe this was my way of helping other people realise they had a choice. Even if it was a hard one.