Chapter 54: Die, Diadem, Die
Neville, Ron and Hermione were half-climbing up, half-digging through a mound of odds and ends (calling it trash seemed to diminish the purpose of their mission). Neville wasn't sure exactly how an item once belonging to one of the Four Founders had ended up amidst piles of unwanted and lost things, but if it had been Tom Riddle who put it there, the man certainly hid his Horcrux cleverly and well.
"What are we looking for?" Hermione called.
"Lu says it's shaped like a crown…" Neville mumbled. "Arched. Ornate…"
"Here, here! I think…. I think I got it!" Ron yanked his forearm out of a mound of items, holding up a kind of tiara.
"That's it, Ron! That's it!"
Even as he spoke, Neville wasn't sure how he sensed it – a shift in the air currents, perhaps – but he suddenly whirled around, wand held confidently in his fist. It took less than a second for Ron and Hermione to follow his lead.
A sneering Draco Malfoy and his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, had them at wandpoint as much as the Trio had them.
"Longbottom!" And for once, Malfoy didn't even pause to snort at Neville's unflattering surname; the blonde git seemed too enraged to bother. "You have something of mine… I'd like it back!"
Neville glanced down with faux innocence at the wand clutched in his fist. "What, this?" And he gave the wand he had taken off of Draco at Malfoy Manor a casual flick. "I suppose I could return it to you – after all, I have another, perfectly good one, but…. Nah. I like this one better! I think I'll just keep it. Consider it payment in kind for you stealing my Rememberall all those years ago!"
Draco rolled his eyes. "It fell out of your pocket, you pathetic excuse for a white knight!"
Ron's fist clenched around his own wand. "Right, like you could rescue anybody, you wanker! You'd first have to start caring about someone, and you don't care about anybody but yourself!"
Draco jeered. "Glad you figured it out finally, Weasley!" But his eyes gave him away, how Ron's studying the Slytherin's lack of morality actually seemed to have cut him to the quick.
It was nothing compared to what Hermione said next:
"Wait! Wait. Before you do us in, I want to know one thing:"
Blinking dumbly, Draco actually nodded, allowing it. Hermione took a deep breath:
"When we were brought to Malfoy Manor, you could have positively ID'ed any one of us…. but you didn't. When Bellatrix was torturing me, you could have joined in, yet you didn't. I saw you, Draco, that night: you may not have helped me – you may not have been able to, maybe I'm mad and you didn't want to – but…. you looked conflicted." She peered at him. "Why?"
Draco wasn't, couldn't look at her. His wand hand was shaking, enough so that it appeared like he was starting to lower it. Neville observed the entire thing with curious bemusement. He had no idea what Hermione was playing at – hell, Draco likely didn't either – but whether it was some Hail Mary game to stave off a duel, Hermione certainly looked as though she had gotten to the heart of the matter of…. something.
"Come on, Draco! Don't be a prat!" Goyle growled. "Do the little Mudblood bitch!"
When Draco didn't move except to look up and meet Hermione's stare, Goyle stole the initiative, impatient that no one else was moving fast enough.
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Protego!" Hermione cast a shield around herself so that the green bolt of light that otherwise would have killed her instead went sailing off into the mile-high piles of discarded things in this Room. Enraged beyond words, Ron leapt at Goyle and chased the giant half-gorilla through the mounds, cursing and roaring.
"AHHHHHHH! That's my girlfriend, you fat, galloping sausage….!"
Hermione watched her boyfriend disappear and allowed a small smile to visit her face at the man she loved, once again, defending her honor.
The lull was short-lived, as she and Neville got into a fierce duel with the remaining two Slytherins: Neville versus Draco, Hermione versus Crabbe. The brilliant, beautiful witch dispatched Crabbe with only minimal effort, blasting him backward and over a mound of old, magical coo-coo clocks.
Suddenly, an ominous WHOOSHing sound could be heard roaring and crackling closer. Then Ron came pelting into view, whimpering and close to crying from sheer terror.
"Goyle set the whole damn bloody place on fire!"
The duel was abandoned as the three Gryffindors and the three Slytherins began to pelt for the exits. But whatever fire Goyle had cast, Neville could feel, from the heat of it gaining at his back, that this fire wasn't natural, nor did it move normally. They would never be able to outrun it, let alone make the doors on foot….
Draco and his goons had clearly come to this conclusion themselves, for they were now trying to out-climb the blaze. Near them, Neville spotted three long sticks lying unused.
Maybe…. if they gained enough height…. They could – outfly it.
"Broomsticks! Over there!"
As the Quidditch player and thus the experienced flyer of the bunch, Ron clambered onto one and tugged Hermione on behind him, who looked unsure.
"Ronald…. You're not seriously suggesting we….?"
"It's fly for your life, my love!" Ron kicked off from the ground.
Hermione, who had long ago vowed that she would never mount a broom in her life, let out a shriek even as she proceeded to take to the skies on one. "Ron, darling, you don't understand I have a terrible fear of - HEIGHTS!" The last word came out in a shrill scream as she and her lover rocketed up into the air. Neville lunged for a second broom, sat astride it and, despite not having touched one since flying lessons as a first year, followed.
It took only a moment or two of concentration to get the hang of it, but Neville nonetheless kept his knuckles white from gripping the handle so tightly. They shot for the Room of Requirement's doors, at least until Neville spotted two figures: Draco and Goyle – without Crabbe (he must have fallen) looking thoroughly terrified.
He made a split second decision. "I'm going back for them."
Ron looked close to mutinous, turning to his lover. "He's joking, right?" But, growling with exasperation, he too turned his broom for the treasonous Slytherins. Though he still hollered, "IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I'LL KILL YOU, NEVILLE!"
Neville swooped low and was pleased when Draco seized the chance to jump and drop trustingly down on the broomstick. He landed hard but managed to hang on. On another pass, Goyle made a similar attempt and Neville prayed with all his heart that the fat Slytherin's weight wouldn't break the broom and doom them all…..
There was a plaintive shriek: Goyle wasn't so lucky. Misjudging the timing, he missed the broom completely, and before anyone could grab him, he plunged into the flames.
Draco appeared shell-shocked. Neville merely shook his head and turned his broom for the doors.
"Low to the broom! Low to the broom! Increase your speed, Longbottom, damnit!" Neville followed the advice from Malfoy - the git had played Seeker for his House after all. They made it past the doors, careened partway down the corridor beyond and wiped out, point-first into a wall. Neville felt a gust of air as Ron and Hermione landed behind them, much more competently.
Draco ran away and disappeared into the chaos of the fighting without a backwards glance or even so much as a thank you.
"Ungrateful bleedster! We SAVED YOUR LIFE!" Ron bellowed after him.
"Ron!"
At Hermione's yell and glancing down on the floor, Neville spotted the diadem they had nearly died to retrieve. The Room of Requirement's doors were wide open, the Fiendfyre rushing towards them. With a mighty thrust of his leg, Ron dropkicked the diadem into the flames, where it immediately burned up. The Room of Requirement closed on the face of a demon from Hell, roaring in angry rage at having yet another Horcrux destroyed.
Exhausted, Neville sank down the floor, wheeling through the destroyed Horcruxes in his head: the diary. The ring. The locket. The diadem. All gone, and somehow, through Voldemort, he had sensed that the Cup of Hufflepuff had met its end too. Harry and Ginny had done their job.
Through glazed eyes, he noticed Ron kneeling before him. "Find him, Neville. There's only one left."
"The… the snake…" he rasped.
"That's right. The snake. Kill the snake and then…. we can end this."
Orienting himself into Voldemort's mind's eye, Neville could now hear the lapping of water, see a full moon shining in through a cobwebbed, partially shattered window. He could see…. Snape looking worried….
Neville snapped back to himself, breathing hard. "I know where he is."
The boathouse. Down by the banks of the Black Lake. Dodging and weaving through battles and duels, darting under the legs of giants, Neville only cast spells when directly threatened, listening to Ron's heavy footfalls coupled with Hermione's yelps as, guiding her by the hand, Ron pushed and pulled her out of the way of any danger. Eventually, an indignant squeal from Hermione made Neville glance back: Ron had now swept Hermione off her feet and was carrying her, bridal-style, so as to run faster.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley, put me down….!"
"Not on your life!" Ron grunted, determinedly and quite literally.
The boathouse appeared eerily quiet once they managed to scramble their way down there; the fiercest fighting had clearly not made it out this far onto the Grounds. Crouching low, Neville led the way around the side of the structure, until they were huddled directly underneath the window he had seen from Voldemort's perspective.
"…. You have performed extraordinary acts of magic with that wand, my Lord, in the last few hours alone…" Snape was speaking calmly.
"And yet, it is still not enough! The most powerful wand in all of history is in my grasp, and yet it does not bow to me, Severus! Why? Why does it not bow to its Master?"
Snape said nothing for the longest moment. Then Voldemort answered his own question.
"Methinks it is because I am not its Master. Not yet, at least."
"My… my Lord?" There was something unsteady about Snape's voice.
"After all, my friend, you disarmed Dumbledore on top of the Astronomy Tower."
Wait….. that wasn't right, Neville thought. He was there; he had seen and heard Draco successfully Disarm Dumbledore long before Snape and the others got there.
"My Lord, I have to disagree…"
"Oh come now, Severus," Voldemort tutted. "If young Draco didn't possess the bollocks to kill Dumbledore as I had originally wanted, do you really expect me to believe that he even had the werewithwal to Disarm an old man? As much as you have professed all year to the contrary, I think not! You've always felt a need to protect the boy – truly admirable, but I'm afraid, no longer useful to my ambitions here…" Something like faux regret passed into Voldemort's voice. "You have been a good and loyal friend, Severus, but I am afraid your essentialness has expired. Goodbye."
Then, in a hiss that Neville instantly translated from Parsletongue: "Nagini? Kill!"
There was a series of snaps and hisses, followed by chilling thumps just on the other side of the wall behind which Neville and his friends were crouched.
When the disturbing noises finally ceased, Neville and his friends melted into the shadows and watched from a short distance as the Dark Lord left the boathouse and slipped away further into the grounds.
Once he was gone, Neville burst into the boathouse, Ron and Hermione hot on his heels, to witness a truly gruesome sight: Severus Snape, bleeding from the neck. The Trio scanned the structure, keeping their wands at the ready, but there was no sign of the snake. It must have left with its Master, keeping close to His side.
A choking, gargling sound returned Neville's attention to the victim. Snape was trying to say something, but it was coming out strangled and unintelligible. Dropping to the Death Eater's side, Neville felt Snape's hands shaking uncontrollably as they pressed something into his hands.
"Take…. Them…."
Spotting the tears glistening on the man's cheeks, Neville carefully caught them in the vial. From the sheen to the moisture, he could tell these tears contained memories.
"H-Harry….. T-telll Harry…."
Neville frowned. "Tell Harry what?"
"He…. he has his…. his mother's…. eyes….." Snape was growing progressively weaker, though from how his body shook and struggled, he was clearly still fighting to hang on.
Neville turned to his friends. "We have to find Madame Pomfrey now!"
After all they had endured in their history with the man, Ron appeared unsure, but one no-nonsense look from his girl and he knew he would have to go along.
"We'll be coming back for you," Neville promised, as he and his companions fled from the boathouse.
They just hoped that when they returned, it wouldn't be too late.
Slipping back into the castle, Ron and Hermione peeled off to track Madame Pomfrey, leaving Neville with the vial containing Snape's memories. He headed straight for the Headmaster's office and gained access easily. Approaching Dumbledore's Pensieve, Neville deposited the tears into the swirling liquid, then plunged his head.
When he emerged, his eyes saw with new, stunning clarity. He found himself floating out of Dumbledore's office, not noticing the individual with auburn hair watching him from the shadows before she slipped into the closing office door behind him.
Neville walked without really sensing any of the sights in front of him. Here he had walked these corridors a thousand times and yet he could not remember which paths he was taking, so shaken from his own physiological foundation over the knowledge which he had just been imparted.
Somehow, he found his way to the Entrance Hall, now deserted of fighters after reaching a lull in the hostilities. Ron and Hermione were huddled together partway down the steps, their faces hovering close together with the intimacy of lovers. Hermione noticed him first and rose to meet him.
"Madame Pomfrey wasn't in the Hospital Wing! We've looked in every triage! Ron thinks she's out tending to wounded in the field, likely the Grounds…" Her voice trailed off at the almost blank look on Neville's face.
"Neville….. what is it?"
Neville gulped hard through a lump in his throat. "There's a reason I can sense them – the Horcruxes. There's a reason I can talk to snakes. There's a reason I can see into his mind. I think I've internally known for a while…. and I think you have too."
Hermione's face shattered with a potent combination of grief and horror. "I'll go with you!" she sobbed, flinging herself into his arms to sob on his shoulder.
"No," Neville strangely crooned it, nudging her back by her arms and placing a finger under her chin so she could stare him in the face. "Not this time, 'Mione." He breathed deeply. "Kill the snake. Kill the snake, and then it's just him! But no matter whether he goes down or not, but especially if he does, I want both you and Ron to be happy. Get married. Have lots of Weasley babies. Watch them grow, and tell them about me!" His voice shook with emotion, but he plowed towards the end. "Getting into that compartment on the Hogwarts Express was the best thing that ever happened to me! …. It brought me to both of you…. and I'm thankful for that, Hermione…. I'm thankful!" Pressing a kiss to her knuckles, then one on her cheek, he passed her off to Ron, entrusting her to him. "Take care of her. Take care of each other," he murmured.
And leaving his two most loyal friends behind, Neville Longbottom threw his shoulders back and marched out of the castle to meet his destiny.