The Houses Competition (or THC) Round Seven - Unpredictability.

House: Slytherin

Class: Muggle Studies

Category: Themed: 1000-3000 words, worth up to 18 points

Theme: [Forgotten] Forgetting something/someone, being forgotten by someone.

Prompts, choose one prompt: [Pairing - Negative] Neville Longbottom/ Harry Potter.

Word Count: 2,972

Disclaimers/triggers: AU! Takes place/ goes AU somewhere at the beginning/ middle of 5th year/ HP5; Mentions of blood quill use. Mentions of deaths.

Harry's reasoning is partly taken from HP5 "Detention With Dolores" and "The Hogwarts High Inquisitor"

Beta Love: StoryPlease, Charlie9646 - Thanks to my teammates for looking over my story!


… … …

FORGET-ME-NOT

… … …

Actions have consequences. Neville had always been well aware of that.

He was sitting in the corner of the Gryffindor common room and like usual, he was ignored by the rest of his House. Neville was a push-over and everyone in Hogwarts knew that. He wasn't the most popular; he was seen as timid, reticent, and skittish. Mostly, he was forgotten and ignored by his housemates.

Neville was fine with that.

He didn't mind being forgotten.

He was fine with being mostly ignored, too. People spoke a lot more openly when they forgot that he was anywhere near them, and Neville had long since learnt to listen. That didn't mean that he didn't have his own opinions, though.

Neville was curled up in a corner on the floor next to the fireplace, playing with a little blue flower and watching the flames, but his attention was mostly on the discussion between Harry, Ron, and Hermione. It wasn't the first time he'd heard them arguing this year.

Ever since Umbridge had started her crusade against Harry Potter, the Golden Trio had been arguing openly everywhere – not constantly, but Neville had stumbled upon them more than once.

Currently, Harry had his hand in a bowl full of what looked like Murtlap essence. Their discussion was heated – Umbridge's detentions the main part of it.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," Ron said, his eyes trained on Harry's hand. It was clear that it wasn't the first time he had been arguing for Harry to tell someone, anyone about his detentions with Umbridge.

"No." Of course, Harry would be stubborn. "I told you before, Ron, I'm not giving her the satisfaction of knowing that she's got to me!"

Neville froze when Harry uttered those words. Something inside him twisted and spread. He had heard arguments like that before. He knew where they'd lead – to fire, flames, and destruction.

Never again.

Ron opened his mouth, about to argue, but Neville was faster.

"Got to you?" he repeated and sat up from where he had been slumped on the floor near them, staring at Harry. "What do you mean by 'she's got to me'?"

The Golden Trio startled. Their heads shifted to look at him. Clearly, they hadn't known that Neville was curled up with his knees surrounded by his arms next to the fireplace.

"Neville," Hermione said and frowned at him. "What are you doing here?"

Neville shrugged and pulled up his shoulders to curl his arms tighter around his knees. The little blue flower in the fingers of his left hand twirled.

"Sitting," he offered.

Hermione stared. "Did someone make fun of you?" she asked him, concern lacing her voice. For a moment the Golden Trio seemed to have forgotten what they were discussing. Instead, they were clearly contemplating the reason why Neville was sitting in a corner by himself.

"No," Neville said, unconcerned. "I'm usually not important enough for anyone to make fun of me."

Oh, there had been people who had tried, but in the end, nobody kept at it for long. He was easily forgotten, nobody bothered with him for a very long time.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron exchanged a look at Neville's words. "You're not unimportant, Neville," Hermione said, trying to cheer him up. Obviously, she thought that he was despondent.

Neville refrained from rolling his eyes.

"What do you mean by 'she's got to me'?" he repeated instead, his eyes fixed on Harry.

For a moment, Harry looked at him, expressionless, then he shrugged. "Exactly what I said. Umbridge is trying to get to me – and I'm not going to let her."

The twirling of the little blue flower stopped.

"No," Neville whispered.

Ron blinked. "Huh?"

Neville was well aware that most people didn't think him capable of standing up for anything or objecting in any way or form, so he repeated his answer calmly, "No."

"No?" Hermione asked, confused, but Neville didn't even look at her.

"This is not about you," Neville said, his eyes still trained on Harry. "No matter how much Umbridge is provoking you, this is not about you."

Harry frowned, confusion in his face. "Umbridge has it out for me," he insisted. "And I'm not letting her win!"

Neville looked away and back to the little blue flower in his hand.

"You're not going to report her?" he asked, his voice quiet. He gestured with his right hand towards Harry's which was still inside the bowl full of Murtlap essence. "What she's doing to you, you should tell someone."

It was the same that Ron and Hermione had told Harry before, Neville knew that, but he had to say it anyway. Maybe, hearing it from Neville might change something.

Harry glared at Neville, even though Neville didn't meet his eyes. "This is between me and her!" Harry declared, harshly. "You have no right to say something about my choices!"

Neville's fingers tightened around the stem of the little blue flower in his hand. For a moment, the five blue petals gleamed unearthly in the light of the fire next to him.

"I have no right?" Neville repeated, his eyes focused on the flower in his hands. His voice was low, but there was a strength to it that spoke of more than the nervous boy known to all of Hogwarts. Neville's eyes flashed and met Harry's. "This isn't about you! This has nothing to do with your choices!"

Harry opened his mouth, but Neville wasn't done, yet. His eyes returned to the flower in his hand.

"You're forgetting that you don't exist in a vacuum," Neville said, his voice still forcefully calm. He had long since learnt that arguing a point had more impact if he didn't scream. "She's a teacher at this school." Neville nodded towards Harry's hand. "Don't delude yourself thinking that her treatment of you is unique."

At that, Hermione looked contemplative, but Harry rolled his eyes.

"She wants to keep me quiet," he said, clearly unimpressed with Neville's argument. "The only reason she was sent here was to discredit me so that the Ministry can continue their denial of Voldemort's return."

Neville gripped his knees tighter to keep himself from sitting up and balling his hands into fists. He took a deep breath and tried to stay calm, even while faced with his classmate's ignorance.

Don't forget yourself.

For a moment, the flames in the fireplace seemed to spread and flicker all around Neville. In his mind, there were terrified screams mixing with the crackling of the fire.

Don't forget yourself.

"I told you," Neville repeated, his voice a lot cooler than before. "This is not about you." His eyes forcefully settled on the blue petals of the flower. He started to twirl it again, fixating on it with all his might. "It doesn't matter what reasons she has to act against you. She has other reasons when it comes to other people!"

"She's after me!" Harry immediately protested.

"She's also torturing eleven-year-olds because they spoke out of turn – just because she can," Neville countered, his fingers nearly crushing the stem of the flower. Its petals seemed to glow a dark, eerie blue.

"Why would she do something so horrible to eleven-year-olds?" Ron rolled his eyes, clearly not believing Neville. "I mean, they're tiny and there's no reason–"

"She has plenty of reasons," Neville argued, his body tensing. "If someone wants to, they will always find a reason." In his mind's eye, flames flared to the sky, consuming houses and people.

Don't forget yourself.

"I don't care if you think you have a personal vendetta or whatever with Umbridge." Neville's burning eyes met Harry's. There was a strength to Neville's glare that seemed foreign on his face. "She's torturing people – and she's getting away with it because you stay quiet!"

Harry swallowed, but the stubborn expression on his face told Neville that his words hadn't made an impact.

"I doubt Professor Umbridge is really torturing people," Hermione spoke up in that moment, nervously twisting her hair.

Something dark rose out of the depths of Neville's mind, waking for the first time in what felt like a millennium. "She is." He uncurled to sit cross-legged, his hands coming together to hold onto the small blue flower. "And no matter what I say, they don't dare to speak up because their idol—" He glared at Harry "—doesn't say anything. Obviously, if he tried and failed to report her, then there's no chance that they'd be listened to!"

Harry scowled.

"She's the High Inquisitor," he argued, stubbornly. "If I'd go to McGonagall, Umbridge will just make another decree saying that anybody who complains about her will be sacked immediately or whatever!"

Neville raised an eyebrow at those words. He tried to remind himself that Harry was still a teenager and therefore stupid, but the darkness inside him was raising. His ears rang with the screams of dying people and his vision was blurred by the light of the flames.

"Is this the way you've justified it to yourself?" he asked, unimpressed, with a tightly controlled voice. "Telling yourself that she'd make another decree?" He glared at Harry. "You're not afraid of another decree."

Harry's face twisted, but the stubborn look on his face just deepened instead of lightened. "This is my fight!"

Neville's fury sparked further.

Don't forget yourself.

It was a useless warning. Neville could feel the abyss drawing closer. Soon, he would forget any kindness in favour of fury, destruction, and hate. He could feel himself losing control already.

"I thought you were better than this. I thought that you were a good person, someone to admire. I always admired you and the fact that you were courageous enough to stand up for your beliefs; that you were nice enough to care about everyone." He leaned forward; his glare intensified. "I guess I was wrong."

"What are you talking about?" Ron spluttered. "Harry is nice!"

"Leaving a classmate unable to move and nearly choking on his own spit because you decided that you had to go after a mystery instead of listening to the teachers is not nice," Neville countered. It wasn't something he'd thought he'd ever say. He'd never blamed Harry for it, instead, had seen it as the stupid actions of an eleven-year-old child – but that didn't change that he remembered it.

Hermione paled; her eyes widening, clearly, she had connected the dots, and while she might have been the one to use the spell back then, Harry and Ron had been as guilty as her when it came to leaving Neville behind. The boys on the other hand just glared at Neville unapologetically.

"I would never do something like that!" Harry argued, righteously.

"You did," Neville knew that he was going too far, but his ears were full of imaginary screams and the fire was burning in front of his eyes, swallowing houses and people whole. "And now you're doing it again! You're refusing to report her, uncaring that others are getting hurt just because your personal goals would suffer if you did the right thing for once!"

"Hey, that's not fair!" Ron interjected. "Harry's done the right thing before! He's saved the school more than once!"

Neville laughed harshly. "Ah, yes," he agreed, while tethering on the edge of the abyss. "I've seen that before! The selfishness of a Slytherin supported by a Gryffindor. I'd be impressed if I didn't know how biased you lot are!"

"I'm not selfish!" Harry objected immediately, and Neville was done. His control slipped and the darkness ignited.

"Oh, I beg to differ," he said and rose elegantly to his feet. His gait was predatory when he stepped up towards the Golden Trio. The blue flower fell to the floor, suddenly blazing a cold white light like the sun itself, nearly blinding the other people in the common room.

All of a sudden, the room around them was eerily silent.

"You are the epitome of a Slytherin, Harry Potter," Neville whispered. There was a strength behind his words that ensured that even those furthest away from him could still pick them up; there was a presence to him that kept even the worst troublemakers quiet. "Always out to protect your own interests first; always self-centred, just caring for those closest to you; always getting away with things you should have been punished for!"

Neville grinned, his eyes blazing and cold. "You would have done well in Slytherin, no matter how arrogant you usually act."

Harry paled at that comparison. Apparently, this time around, Neville had gotten through – at least a bit.

"I'm not arrogant!" The words were actually shouted at Neville, but Neville didn't care anymore.

The timid and nice boy that had been Neville Longbottom was gone. Instead, fire, death and destruction had taken his place.

"You are spoiled," there was no mercy in Neville's eyes. "You've gotten away with all your actions at Hogwarts until now – no matter how selfish they were. It's time to remember that the school doesn't just consist of you, Ron, Hermione and – maybe – Ron's siblings!"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a nervous glance. The fire in the fireplace was flaring high; it matched Neville's temper. Harry stared back.

"You're wrong!" he countered. "Also, this is about Umbridge, not about me!"

Neville snorted, but before he could say anything, Hermione stopped him.

"Harry's right. As long as Umbridge is in charge and the Ministry refuses to acknowledge that Voldemort is back, we can't do anything against her!" she said bravely.

"You believe that Umbridge has power because of a bit of parchment on a wall?" Neville's eyes flickered from one to the other before fixating on Harry again. "If you had gone to any of the other teachers and told them that she was using a blood quill in detention – if you had shown the bravery Gryffindor's renowned for and done the right thing – then others would have stepped up and done the right thing, too. You're part of the upper years, the younger ones look up to you. You're also famous! If you'd wanted to do the right thing, you could have stopped Umbridge!"

The Golden Trio looked at each other, then Harry jutted his chin out and glared at Neville.

"So why don't you do something if you think something has to be done?" he countered, clearly as furious as Neville. He looked like an angry wet cat in front of a furious bear – defiant but not able to compete.

"Oh! I know why! Because you're scared!" Harry declared and crossed his arms in a clear attempt to look intimidating. It looked more like he was hugging himself. "You just want me to do something so that you don't have to!"

"Unlike you, I don't have evidence," Neville explained, icily. "You don't want to present your evidence to McGonagall and the others I know about refuse to do the same because of you!"

"Then get detention yourself!" Harry retorted.

Neville glared at him and Harry actually winced. "Umbridge is many things, but she isn't stupid. She knows what she can get away with – and she knows that with me, she'll be out of the school the moment I end up with a single scratch on her watch. My Gran would literally destroy her if she touched me."

Then Neville leaned forward. "Not that it matters anymore," he said, his voice full of dark promises. "Clearly, my faith in you is misplaced. You had the choice to do what is right or what is easy. You failed to do the right thing–"

"I'm doing the right thing!" Harry objected. "I'm trying to make sure that people know that Voldemort is back!"

For a moment, all that Neville could see was a village burning while fury consumed himself.

He remembered the stories his Gran had told him about Voldemort. He remembered the fear that had spread through the magical world of Britain, he knew how much people still feared Voldemort's name.

And Neville laughed. It was harsh and biting and mocking.

"This is not about Voldemort or your useless acts of getting people to believe you when they don't want to." He could see the Golden Trio shrink into themselves at his gaze. "This is about my school. This is about my students."

He leaned forward, his face almost touching Harry's.

"I don't care about Voldemort," Neville declared, his voice caressed by a chilling hissing sound. "Let him come. Let him rage. There's worse out there than him. I'm worse than him."

Harry swallowed and leaned backwards, away from Neville. The other two were leaning as far away from him as they could, too.

"No. It's too late now," Neville said and turned away from them. "You've had your chance. You decided to do what's easy instead of what's right. Now, it's my turn."

With that, he snapped his fingers. The little blue, blazing flower on the floor took root and spread into a sea of the same little blue flowers.

Neville stepped away and towards the entrance of the Gryffindor common room.

"Neville!" Hermione called after him. "Wait!"

For a moment, Neville stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. His face was blank, his eyes were blazing with power.

"Who is Neville?" he asked her, his voice full of disinterest, stunning everyone in the common room.

"That's… that's not funny, Neville," Ron said shakily.

Neville just looked at him before his eyes settled on the flowers to their feet.

"Actions have consequences," he said. "Whoever Neville was, he was lost the moment the Forget-Me-Nots bloomed."

The Golden Trio paled.

"You disgust me," the wizard that had been Neville said. "You should have remembered him before he was lost to my wrath."

With that, the reborn Slytherin Founder left the Gryffindor common room to take back his school.


... ... ...

The End

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Well, I'd never thought that I'd ever pit Neville against Harry, but it seems like Neville had other ideas.

I hope you liked it.

Over and out.

Ebenbild