Warnings: This is not for anyone under 15 years, unless you have an amazing level of maturity. The chapter contains slash, het, and coarse language. If you can't cope with any of that, follow the illustrious knights of Monty Python's table and run away.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters and The Story So Far are property of J. K. Rowling and Warner Brothers, and I have no intent of contesting that right, especially since both have done extremely well in creating and maintaining the spirit of said characters and story. In case either one happens upon this story one day: congratulations and please don't sue me! I mean no harm.

Pleas: Reviews would be nice; flames are also welcome. I will make a spirited attempt to reply to every single one, but I can't guarantee it. Flamers be warned: I will be very logical, pedantic and probably curious in my response. It can be a nuisance, but you'll have to learn to live with it.

Thanks To: Katarina, VoodooDaisuke, Demeter, Shattered Reality, crys clouse, Canarde, Karina, Jessica (I always loved the centaurs (must be a carry-over from my Narnia days), and thought that their cameo in the first book must pan out into something more later on. I'm glad you like Kieran; so do I. He has a mind of his own. Good or evil? Hard to tell. Take a shot somewhere in between and you just about have him, I think. Glad you liked Dobby as well. I was dancing around in rapture when I first read your review because you know Loreena McKennit too! Ah, rarity!), Sorceress Jade, SailorChibi, suzakunoaijin, Myr (They'll work something out. *Sighs* Eventually.), Ephemera (*Impersonates the Cheshire Cat's smile* All seven in one go? Now I'm impressed. Draco has so many friends he doesn't know about. It's a real pity. Snape is amazingly easy to write for some reason. Knew there was a reason I liked him so much. ^.^), twilights death, Kcarke (I think when I've finished this story I'm going to have to go back through and pull out all the symbols and motifs I'm finding. There's a new one every time I turn around, and Draco being shut out is one of them. Gerald irritates me as well; I don't intend to fill him out much. The contrary will be true of Harper. Gay? No. In his own words, he's "something else". Which in any other context would seem terribly conceited and so very like him. Dobby is becoming something of an unexpected ally for Draco. Ron's hatred is going to get sorely tried in the next couple of chapters…), Mist Walker, Wednesday, Draco Malfoy_N_Harry Potter, Wednesday, SoulSister, electricbluecat, Britt, sm (*Laughs* You'd be getting wages if I knew who you were, where you were, and how to get the money…), Dragoncliffer (Ron will be getting a sharp boot up the backside in the chapters to come. Of course, being Ron, he'll probably boot back.), S. Maldiva (Yes, more twists. It seems I can't write in a straight line.), Piri Malfoy.

Thanks also to Apocalypse for beta-reading this chapter, and to Blaze, who was kind enough to edit the first six chapters for me.

All Torn Down: A Hidden Fire

An emerald is as green as grass,

A ruby red as blood;

A sapphire shines as blue as heaven;

A flint lies in the mud.

A diamond is a brilliant stone,

To catch the world's desire,

An opal holds a fiery spark,

But a flint holds fire.

—Precious Stones, Christina Georgina Rossetti

When term began, the castle was awash with rumours and gossip about the failed attack. At first the Ministry had tried to cover it up as a Muggle terrorist attack, but that fell apart when some keen young editor began publishing photographs of masked Death Eaters in the Daily Prophet.

The Ministry conceded that Death Eaters had been involved, but still likened the attack to the incident at the Quidditch World Cup the previous year. It maintained that the Death Eaters had acted alone, and that Voldemort, despite rumour, hadn't risen again.

At least, this is what the Ministry of Magic said. Only Cornelius Fudge was truly emphatic about it. The other Ministers usually shook their heads or rolled their eyes when asked to comment.

'Mum reckons old Fudge must have gone nuts,' Seamus said one Potions lesson, although not too loudly. It was a mildly dangerous potion they were concocting and Snape would kill them if he thought they weren't paying proper attention—if they didn't get themselves killed beforehand, as he'd sneered at the beginning of the lesson.

'Reckon she's right,' Ron muttered, bending over his cauldron so that Snape couldn't see his mouth moving. He spluttered and jerked back as fumes rose up his nose. 'God, this stuff stinks! Dad's livid. He keeps saying that we should be trying to put up a proper front against You-Know-Who, not sticking our heads in the sand every time something bad happens.'

'We are trying,' Harry noted as the others nodded their approval. No one heard him.

'They should be doing something about it anyway,' Dean said. 'Even if Voldemort wasn't back, the Death Eaters are dangerous enough on their own. Thirteen people, dead! Just like that! Hermione, could you pass me the dried frog skins, please?'

Hermione did so without looking up from her cauldron. She and Draco were probably the only two people in the class really concentrating on their potions.

'My Gran is getting really worried,' Neville said, about to sprinkle pixie dust over his concoction. Hermione's hand shot out and pushed his away.

'Add the toad's eyeballs first and then take it off the heat,' she said. Neville flushed.

'Thanks, Hermione.'

'You're welcome.'

'Gran's talking about pulling me out of school. She doesn't want me getting involved in anything dangerous.'

Ron dropped his stirring rod into the potion. 'She can't do that!'

'Mr Weasley, five points from Gryffindor for talking and another five for not paying attention to what you're doing! Get that rod out of there now!'

Seamus gaped as Harry and Hermione tried to help Ron fish his sinking implement out of the cauldron. 'Five points for talking! That's like being punished for breathing, that is.'

'Another five points from Gryffindor courtesy of Mr Finnegan!'

'Not in the best mood today, is he?' Hermione remarked. The boys glared enviously at the expanse of bushy hair that shielded her face from Snape.

They waited until Snape's attention was occupied by a minor accident across the room before they took up the conversation again.

'Your Gran can't be serious,' Ron hissed at Neville. The other boy shrugged, but he was beginning to tremble.

'I think she is.'

'She can't,' Hermione muttered. 'We've got our O.W.L.s this year.'

Dirty looks were thrown her way.

'Thanks, Hermione,' Dean said. 'I spent months trying to forget about that little detail.'

'The thing is,' Neville bit his lip. 'I don't want to leave, even if it is dangerous. And if it comes to open war...I want to be able to do something. I don't want everything to happen like—like last time.'

Harry glanced at him sympathetically. He could tell Neville was thinking about his parents. There was a set determination in his eyes Harry hadn't seen before, almost imperceptible amidst the worry and fear.

Harry looked back at his potion, thinking. Perhaps he should talk to Dumbledore about Neville. If he was so set on doing something, the first step would be for him to join the Order of the Phoenix. At the very least, Dumbledore could dissuade Neville's grandmother from taking him out of school.

'Stir much slower and it'll congeal, Harry,' Hermione interrupted his thoughts. He glanced down at the potion, already beginning to stick to his rod, and swirled it faster.

He glanced sidelong at Draco, standing across the room. The boy's fringe obscured his eyes from view as he stirred his potion. Harry could see just the hint of a smile when Draco half-turned, taking the cauldron from the heat of the fire, and scattered pixie dust over it. The brew shone briefly, then settled. Draco looked around the room for Snape. 'Done, sir.'

'Well done, Draco. Ten points to Slytherin...'

Hermione kicked Harry in the ankle. 'Try to keep your eyes on your work, Harry. It'll make a nice fire in a minute, but Snape won't be too happy about it.'

Harry hastily pulled his cauldron away from the fire and threw his own sachet of pixie dust into the potion, willing it not to be too late. He breathed a sigh of relief as a glow rose over the surface and then settled back to a mossy sheen. He glanced up at Snape. 'Done, Professor.'

Snape strolled over to inspect his work. An eyebrow rose. 'Well done, Potter. Now if only you'd had results like that in your last test.' He cast a disparaging glance at Hermione. 'Or perhaps it was due to your gracious friend's help.'

Hermione glared levelly at him until Snape's cold eyes rested again on Harry's face. 'Five points from Gryffindor for collusion. This is supposed to be your own work.'

'That's rubbish!' Ron exploded. 'You can't—'

'Three points from Gryffindor for sticking your nose in where it's neither needed or wanted, Mr Weasley, and a further three for doubting a teacher's judgement.' Snape slunk away, earning glares from Gryffindors around the room, the most potent of which were grouped near Harry.

'Overbearing git,' Seamus breathed. 'I'd just love to get my hands around that neck late one night...'

'Ssh,' Hermione warned. 'He'll be taking points off you for death threats next!'

' 'Doubting a teacher's judgment', indeed!' Ron snarled, wresting his cauldron from the heat and pitching the dust into it. Hermione winced at the potion's savage treatment, but the correct reaction took place. 'I don't doubt his judgment at all; it's just always bad!'

Harry shrugged silently and began to bottle the potion. He knew why Snape was being so malicious.

He glanced back at Draco, who in turn was staring bemusedly at the Potions Master. He'd already filled three bottles and his gloved hands were smeared with green stains.

Well, Snape had no right to be enraged any more. He was trying now—admittedly for the first time—to understand what it was Draco felt, and what he felt about it in turn.

Draco turned to fill his fourth bottle, fringe falling again into his eyes. He flicked it out of the way, leaving a green ting in his hair. Harry smiled.

He just wasn't sure.

~~~*~~~

Harry waited until the night to look for Dumbledore. The rest of the House was gathered in the common room: studying, talking or, in Ron's case, reading. Harry wove his way through the crowd towards the portal.

'Where are you going, Harry?'

Belatedly, he tried not to look too conspicuous as he turned to face Hermione. 'Just out for a bit.'

'Good. I'll come with you.'

Harry shook his head, waving a hand. 'No, it's fine, I just—'

'Don't be ridiculous.' She picked up a form from beside her Arithmancy notes. 'I need to go to the Owlery anyway. It's about time I renewed my subscription to the Daily Prophet.'

'I'd rather—'

'I'm not going to get in your way, Harry.' Hermione smiled. 'I'll come with you as far as our paths overlap, and then I'll go to the Owlery and you can head wherever you want to go.'

Harry relaxed. 'Okay.'

'Coming?' This to Ron, who looked up from Hogwarts distractedly.

'No thanks. I'm almost finished this chapter. You don't need me, do you?'

'Not at the moment, but maybe...later.' She kissed Ron briefly as a blush spread over his freckled face, and followed Harry out.

They walked in silence side by side for a way, occasionally passed by other students. When the corridor ahead of them was safely empty, Hermione twisted her head to look at Harry and said, 'What's got up Snape's nose?'

Harry started and shrugged, a little too late. 'How should I know?'

'He's not very happy with you.'

'You may not have noticed, Hermione, but Snape's always had it in for me.'

'He was getting better, though. After, you know...everything.'

Harry sighed. 'Before the holidays I went to talk to him about something. He...didn't like what I had to say very much. That's all. All right?'

'All right.'

Harry stared at her. 'You're not going to ask what I was talking to him about?'

'If you went to the curator of all things slimy before you came to Ron or me, it's probably not something I want to know about, right?'

Harry was about to answer when a figure in billowing black robes strode past them. Snape paced ahead of them, moving stiffly, and turned abruptly out of the passage. Horrified silence reigned.

'I'd better make sure he doesn't have any reason to give me detention for a while,' Hermione muttered finally.

'He never does anyway.'

'Yes, but I'd better make sure.' They looked at each other and erupted into ringing peals of laughter.

'The way he just walked away, not a word—!'

'Like he was really offended—'

'Wonder if he'll go find McGonagall to kiss it all better?'

'Ron will be so sorry he missed this!'

They were still struggling down the corridor, trying to regain composure, when Harry bumped into someone rounding a corner.

'Sorry,' he gasped, trying to bite back his chuckles.

They evaporated as he met Professor McGonagall's stern eye. Beside him, Hermione had likewise gone silent.

'It's quite all right, Potter,' McGonagall said. 'What are the two of you doing wandering around the castle so late?'

Hermione held up the subscription form. 'I need to send this tonight. See you, Harry.' She disappeared in the general direction of the Owlery.

'What about you, Potter?' McGonagall arched a brow.

'I was looking for Professor Dumbledore. Do you know where he is, Professor?'

She shook her head. 'It's too late to be bothering the Headmaster anyway. Is it something you can talk to me about?'

Harry thought about it a second, then nodded. 'It's about Neville—Neville Longbottom.'

McGonagall's brow rose further. 'Indeed. Come with me.'

Harry followed her to her office. She waved him to a seat as she closed the door and turned, pursing her lips. 'What's this about, then?'

'It's—his Gran, she wants to pull him out of the school, I think—' He paused, watching McGonagall move to her desk and retrieve a letter from the top drawer.

'I know that already, Potter.' She handed the letter to him. It was a request from Neville's grandmother for the discontinuation of his enrolment. It didn't say why.

Harry put the message down carefully. 'He said she's afraid of what might happen to him, especially after the attack on the Underground. But he's as safe here as anywhere else, isn't he? We all are.'

McGonagall sighed. 'Neville's grandmother obviously believes otherwise.' She placed the letter back in the drawer and began to shuffle papers around in a false display of activity. 'I can't refuse her request, however much I would like to. But thank you for your concern nonetheless.'

'He doesn't want to go,' Harry mumbled.

McGonagall paused. 'What was that, Potter?'

'Neville doesn't want to go. He said he didn't care about the danger, he didn't want to leave.'

The professor sat down. 'Has he told his grandmother this?'

'I don't think so, no.'

McGonagall leaned back in her chair, watching him pensively. 'But he really doesn't want to leave?'

'No.'

She stared at the ceiling, then at the desk. Finally she said, 'I'll hold the letter as long as possible. Tell her I lost it...'

Harry goggled. 'What are you talking about?'

'You need to get Neville to tell his grandmother how he feels. We can't keep him at Hogwarts ourselves, but if Longbottom makes it clear that he doesn't want to go, she may relent. He has to do it himself.'

Harry shifted. 'Neville isn't...'

'...The most confident of people? I know. But he's the only one who even has the right to argue with her wishes.'

'I understand.' There was a pause. 'Professor, if he does convince her to let him stay...'

'Yes, Potter?'

'Do you think he could be brought into the Order?' He caught the look in McGonagall's eye and hurried on. 'It's just—in Potions, he was really determined to—he really doesn't want to let things go they way they did last time, Professor. Even now, he doesn't want to be just on the side, watching everything happen around him. Even now.'

McGonagall stood. 'Wait until it's certain he can stay, Harry. Then we'll see.'

He nodded. 'Thank you.'

'You had better go now. It's curfew soon.'

Hermione was already back inside the common room when Harry entered, sitting beside Ron and chuckling at one of his jokes--she'd finally convinced him to put Hogwarts: A History down for the night. He sat down with them.

'Well?' Hermione said.

'Well what?'

'Did McGonagall let you go?'

'She...we talked.'

The other two exchanged a glance. 'How did it go?' Ron pressed.

'Um...yeah. All right.' Harry was still struggling to understand the fact of McGonagall's willingness to be so underhanded to keep a student at school.

And it all hung on Neville.

'Where's Neville?' he said, suddenly, looking around.

'He and Ginny went out a while ago,' Ron said. He frowned. 'He said something about helping her with Transfigurations.'

'Neville helping her with transfiguration?'

'That's what I thought.'

Harry stood. 'I've got to find them.'

Hermione caught at his sleeve, but he shook her off. 'Don't bother. It's bedtime soon; they'll be back.'

'No, I need to talk to him now.' He hurried out again before they could argue.

Harry paced quickly through the passages; he did want to get back before curfew if he could. This couldn't, it wouldn't wait, though. Who knew how long it would take Neville to get up the courage to face his grandmother?

Harry's brows knotted together. Why would Neville be helping Ginny with Transfiguration work? That was his worst subject, next to Potions...

Harry paused at the door to the Transfiguration classroom. He twisted the handle and the door swung inward noiselessly. Harry stepped into the room. His jaw dropped.

They had been doing transfiguration work. That was obvious; three glasses were in various stages of becoming spoons, none of them actually having made it. That activity had apparently been abandoned a long while ago, however.

Neville and Ginny stood in the middle of the room. The older boy's arms were folded around Ginny, his hands stroking her back as he kissed her. Ginny leaned into him, her hands cupping his face. She sighed softly. Neither of them had heard Harry enter the room.

Harry felt a blush storm over his face, disappearing into the roots of his hair.

Get out of here, fast!

His legs whirled him about and he fled back through the door, unaware of its slam behind him as he leaned against the wall, gasping through waves of panic. He'd only begun to compose himself when Neville slipped out of the room, looking flushed and even more nervous than usual.

'H-Harry?' the boy's eyes widened in concern as he looked closer at Harry's face. 'Are you all right?'

'Fine,' Harry stammered. 'Absolutely...fine.'

'I-I'm sorry,' Neville mumbled. 'I know you weren't expecting to see that, but we—we didn't think anyone would come to the room at this time of night, and we really were working on Transfigurations—I mean, I...we didn't set out to—and we were going to tell Ron and you and the others sooner or later, and—'

Harry held up a hand. 'Neville, stop. It's okay. I just—' he tried to laugh it off. 'Just got a bit of a shock, that's all.'

'Really?' The other boy brightened. 'You're not angry?'

'Why would I be angry? I think Ron's the one you should be worrying about.'

'Oh. Yeah, I suppose you're right. It's just that, you know, I thought—because Ginny talks about you all the time, and she swears it's all right, but sometimes I just feel like—'

'What are you talking about?'

'Ginny. She's, er, she liked you since she first saw you. She says it's nothing now, and you never noticed anyway, but I thought, after seeing...' His voice trailed off uncertainly.

'Oh.' Harry tried to think of something else to say. 'Um.'

'Yeah.' Neville scuffed one foot along the floor sheepishly. 'So...so it's all right?'

Harry nodded. 'Yes. It's fine by me.'

'Okay.' Neville sounded relieved. There was a short silence; the two of them lost in their own thoughts. 'So then why did you—'

'Neville, I wanted to—'

They paused and grinned sheepishly. 'You go,' Neville said.

'Do you know how serious your Gran is about pulling you out of school?'

'Pretty serious, I think.'

'Did you know she'd sent a letter to McGonagall?'

Neville gaped. 'No, I didn't! She—she really did that? How do you know?'

'I went to talk to Professor McGonagall just before. I saw it then.'

'Damn!' Neville's fist slammed against the wall. Harry jumped; Neville yelped with the pain. 'I don't want to go! I want to stay here, I don't care if it's dangerous!'

'I know,' Harry said, too softly. He'd never seen Neville so angry before.

'I want to stay with Ginny and I want to help! I won't be the little coward who crawls under a rock at the first sign of trouble, not any more!'

'Have you actually told her any of this?'

Neville slumped. 'No, of course not.'

'Do you think she might understand, if you did?'

The other boy threw him a reproachful look. 'Have you ever tried to reason with a woman who wears a dead bird on her hat?'

Harry began to laugh; he couldn't help it. Neville looked offended at first, but slowly began to chuckle as well. Ginny poked her head around the door, eyeing them both cautiously. 'What was that about?'

'Gran's written a letter to Professor McGonagall,' Neville said.

Ginny stiffened, her eyes focusing entirely on him. 'What are you going to do?'

Neville kicked at the floor. 'I don't know.'

'Neville...'

'I know, I know. I have to stand up to her. I know.' He bit his lip.

'Write to her,' Harry suggested. 'Just...just let her know how you feel.'

'Yeah. I-I'll try.' Ginny moved to take his hand, and they smiled at each other. 'I'll try.'

'Curfew's soon,' she said. 'We'd better get back to the common room before Filch finds us.'

They began to walk back to Gryffindor Tower, Neville's arm settling comfortably around Ginny's shoulder. Harry felt a pang of obscure jealousy.

'I suppose now I know what Percy felt like,' Ginny said, breaking the silence.

Harry laughed. 'Yeah. It must be a Weasley tradition: get caught snogging with your first boyfriend.'

'Or girlfriend,' Ginny added, looking thoughtful. 'You know, I think you might be right. I know Bill caught Charlie—'

'Fred and George saw Ron and Hermione kissing.'

'And they caught each other, too,' she giggled. 'Percy almost knocked Bill flat when he found him kissing that Ravenclaw, what was her name...?'

Harry cocked his head. 'Percy was that mad?'

'No, but he was in a hurry. Went around a corner and—smack!—ran straight into them. There were an awful lot of red faces over that. Cardinal gyves.'

The Fat Lady nodded and swung forward to admit them into the room. Most of the others had already retreated into the dormitories for the night. The boys bade Ginny good night and followed suit.

Harry lay awake well after the other boys had fallen asleep. He didn't understand why he had reacted so violently to seeing Neville kiss Ginny. After all, that was it, wasn't it? Just a harmless little kiss? Nothing to panic over.

He looked over at Neville. The boy was curled up tight on his bed, a contented half-smile softening his features. What might be worth panicking about was the fact that, just briefly, Harry had imagined what it would be like for Draco to hold him like that.

And Harry was uneasily aware that Neville, the most nervous, shy boy in the year, was more comfortable with Ginny than Harry was around any girl, with the sole exception of Hermione.

'Doesn't mean anything,' Harry muttered. He rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut.

~~~*~~~

The scratching of pen on paper and a muttered curse woke Harry the next morning. He pushed the curtains around his bed aside, yawning. 'Neville?'

'Good morning,' came the sour response. Harry heard a growl, and the sound of paper crumpling. He crossed the room and poked his head through the drapes surrounding Neville's bed.

'What are you doing?'

'Trying to write to my Gran.' Neville was sitting cross-legged on the mattress, a board balanced across his knees as he scribbled madly on a fresh piece of parchment torn from the roll beside him.

Harry sat on the bed slowly, so as not to disturb the inkpot already wobbling dangerously on the corner of the board, in counterpoint to Neville's jabbing motions with the quill. 'Having trouble?'

'I've been awake for hours and still haven't got it right.' With a sigh, Neville laid his quill down, stretched, and scrunched up the latest piece of parchment. It joined a growing pile of discarded sheets at the foot of the bed. 'I just can't get the words to come out right.'

Harry glanced at the discard pile. 'Do you mind if I...?'

Neville shrugged, tearing off a new sheet. 'Go ahead, but there's nothing worth reading there.'

Harry selected a crumpled ball at random and folded it out:

Dear Gran,

I've heard that you sent a letter to the school asking to withdraw my enrolment. Why didn't you tell me?

I don't want to leave school. I know you think it's dangerous, but I—

There were a few words more, indecipherable through the maddened, inky slashes Neville had made across them before throwing the letter away. Harry put the unfinished note aside and picked up another one.

Gran:

I've heard that you sent a letter to pull me out of school. I don't want to go; I know you're worried but no one else is leaving and I don't want to be the first one to run away. So I want you to take it back.

All my friends are here at Hogwarts and I don't want to leave them. I have a girlfriend now—did you know that? Ginny Weasley—I took her to the Yule Ball last year, remember? She's a year younger than I am, but she's beautiful and funny and wonderful and—

'I don't see what's wrong with either of these,' Harry said, holding the pieces of paper up. Neville glanced at them.

'That one's too whiny,' he said, pointing at the first. 'It makes me sound like a spoilt little boy, and if she thinks that she'll only bring me home all the faster. The other one—' His eye ran over the words, and he grimaced. 'It started out too blunt and then became a love letter. Not good.'

'They both get your message across.'

'Yes, but not well enough.' The latest sheet joined the pile.

'Just tell her what you've told me.'

'Mm.' Neville tapped the end of the quill against his mouth for a second before setting it again against parchment.

'Gran,' he murmured under his breath. 'I've heard that you sent a letter asking to cancel my enrolment at school, and all I can think is—can't we talk about this? I didn't realise you were being so serious last holidays.

'I have friends here, Gran. A girlfriend now, too—Ginny Weasley, remember, I took her to the Yule Ball last year?—I'd better leave that right there or I'll go all sappy again—'

Harry chuckled, and Neville flashed a small, awkward smile. 'The point is, I don't want to leave them.

'You've already told me how dangerous staying here is, and I understand why you're worried about me. But I don't want to be the first to run away, like usual. I don't want to run away at all. There, I said it.

'He Who Must Not Be Named is back, and it's going to be dangerous everywhere. He's going to try to make everything happen the way it did last time. I keep thinking about Mum and Dad and what happened to them—it'll be worse if He has His way this time. I can't do anything about it, though, if I'm hiding under your wing.

And I do want to do something, Gran. I don't know how, but if I stay here at Hogwarts, I'll find some way to help Professor Dumbledore.'

'That's something I didn't tell you last night,' Harry murmured. Neville looked up, curious. 'Dumbledore's heading a resistance group, called the Order of the Phoenix.'

The other boy sat back, squinting. 'I think I've heard of that somewhere before. It was something Mum and Dad were involved in, before they—' He broke off, flushing. 'Never mind.'

'I know,' Harry said. Neville started.

'W-what? How—?'

'Professor Dumbledore told me last year. He explained why you were so afraid of the Cruciatus Curse.'

'I see.' Neville gulped. 'I—I see.' He picked up the quill again, and spoke as he wrote, more quietly now. 'Finally, I have my O.W.L.s to pass this year. We don't know how long this upheaval will last, but at the end of it, I'm still going to need to know how to be a proper wizard. We all know I'm almost a Squib; I don't want to be seen as anything poorer than that.

'So. I don't want to leave school. In fact it's more than that, Gran, I won't leave Hogwarts. There's too much that I can do here, and who's to say it'll be any safer anywhere else? I want you to withdraw that request and let me work out what I can do. Believe me, I'll run if I have to,' he added, with an irony that surprised Harry. 'All my love...' Neville signed his name at the bottom of the parchment and ran his eyes over what he had written. He gave a satisfied nod. 'That's more like it.'

He capped the inkpot and began to pack the mess he had made away. 'I'll send it before breakfast,' he said, not looking up at Harry.

'Neville, I—I'm sorry. About what happened to your parents.'

The other boy gave a listless shrug. 'Life goes on.'

'I'm still sorry.'

Slowly, Neville looked up at him. 'Thank you.'

'Do you think—if your Gran lets you stay—'

'She will.' Neville's voice was flat.

'Would you consider joining the Order of the Phoenix?'

Neville pursed his lips. 'You weren't supposed to tell me about that, were you?'

Harry flushed. 'Not really, no. But you seemed so earnest about helping...'

'I understand. And to tell you the truth, I'd like nothing better.'

'Really?'

Neville grinned. 'Is there anything really disturbing I should know about?'

Harry frowned, then raised his eyebrows. 'Quite a lot, actually. I never really thought about it.'

'Then you'd better tell me now. I'm a nervous person; I don't want to die of fright as soon as I'm a part of it. And Harry—is my becoming a part of this Order certain? '

'No, it isn't.'

'So you had a good reason not to tell me.' He grinned at Harry's stricken expression. 'Don't worry. I won't breathe a word.'

'When did you get so confident?'

'When I realised you could blush as much as the rest of us. I'll still lose my wits when I'm around Snape.'

'He's in the Order. Most of the teachers are.'

Neville groaned. 'Wonderful. What else?'

'There's—' Harry stiffened and cast a wary glance over his shoulder at the sound of someone else stirring in bed. 'Perhaps we should go down to the common room to talk about this.'

Neville nodded and, taking his letter, followed Harry down the stairs. The common room was almost empty; a few first years were huddling wide-eyed near the fire, whispering and giggling to each other. Ignoring the cold, Harry and Neville took seats at the back of the room.

'There are a lot of people I don't know—some of them look like they're from abroad, even. There are some council-men and there's a group—' Harry thought back to the last meeting and the exchange of nasty smiles between Snape and the other, unknown spokesperson— 'who I think must have something to do with Azkaban, because they handled the counter-attack over there.'

'The counter attack? You mean when all those wraiths dropped onto the island and the Dementors went crazy? No one in the Ministry got to the bottom of that.'

'No, Fudge didn't get to the bottom of it. Most of the others would have known what was happening, one way or the other. Remus Lupin is there as well.'

'Really?' Neville brightened. 'I liked him.'

Harry nodded. 'He was a good teacher. You...heard Snape's announcement at the end of the year?' He bit his lip and awaited the reaction.

'Yes, but I thought he was just trying to stir up trouble. Wasn't he?'

'No. Professor Lupin is a werewolf.'

Neville's mouth dropped open, and some of the usual fear returned in his eyes. 'Is he dangerous?' he whispered.

'It depends. He usually drinks a potion each month that renders him harmless when he's transformed. He drank it the whole year when he was teaching here, and he never hurt a single person.'

'But otherwise...?'

'He can be as dangerous as any other werewolf, yes. But he'd never hurt a fly intentionally.'

'What else?'

'There's Sirius Black—'

Neville's head jerked back, his eyes wide. 'Th-the murderer?'

'Careful,' Harry warned. 'That's my godfather you're talking about.' Disbelief flashed across the other boy's features. 'I'm serious. He never committed those murders; he was framed. He's proven it to me but hasn't been cleared yet by the Ministry.'

'Dumbledore trusts all these people?'

'They wouldn't be there if he didn't.'

'I suppose so.' Neville still looked worried. 'Is there anyone else?'

Harry nodded. 'The younger ones—Ron, Hermione, and me. And there's Draco Malfoy.'

'Malfoy?'

'Yes.'

'Malfoy?'

'Are you all right?'

Neville closed his eyes and said in a toneless voice, 'Guess whose father put my parents in St. Mungo's.'

Harry's breath rushed out of him. 'My God...I'm sorry, Neville, I really am. But—but Draco's not like him. Not at all. Not any more.'

'He put my legs in a binding curse in our first year.'

'A lot has happened since then. He's changed; he's grown up.' Harry's eyes widened as he registered what he'd just said, and his thoughts ran briefly to that night in the Transfiguration room: 'He wanted me to be a man...a true Malfoy.'

'I don't think I can trust him, Harry.'

'If you can trust Sirius, you can trust Draco. It'll be all right, you have my word on it.'

Neville smiled wearily. 'If you say so.'

'I just did.' Harry smiled back at him.

'Do you want to play chess until the others come down?'

'Why not?'

The game went on for a good while, and Harry realised with very little surprise that he was on the losing side. His pieces realised it as well, and when he moved one there was general an outcry of protests and other suggestions, most of which were no better than the move he'd made.

Harry knitted his brow, glaring at the board. Neville had him in check, and he couldn't see any possible way out of it. What remained of his side stared at each other and at him helplessly.

'What if I—' he began, reaching out. The entire board cringed away from his hand, and he stopped. 'Oh, thanks a lot. What about—'

A hand darted in front of him and flickered across the board. Ron leaned down to survey his work, grinning. 'Checkmate.'

'Thanks,' Neville muttered. 'I was actually winning that one.'

'No problem.'

Neville stood up, holding his letter. 'See you at breakfast.'

'See you,' Harry said as he disappeared through the portal. Ron sat in the chair Neville had vacated, steepling his hands under his chin with an odd smile.

'Harry, why are you still in your pyjamas?'

Harry stared at him, then down at himself. He turned to glare at the first-years by the fire and they giggled.

'I'll be back.' He shook a finger at Ron, whose smile was beginning to take up the rest of his face. 'Not a word.'

He fled the room to the tune of his best friend's laughter.

~~~*~~~

CONTROVERSY UNDER CORNELIUS

Following the mysterious events at the Muggle London Underground during December, controversies have surrounded the Head of the Ministry of Magic. Was He Who Must Not Be Named really involved, or are the Ministry's claims that past Death Eaters acted independently true? Who let the dogs out? And who will take the fall at the end of the day?

The Ministry's official stance remains non-committal and hasn't changed from the original statement released December 27th. However, it is becoming increasingly apparent that the Ministry's internal opinions differ greatly from that of its head, Mr Cornelius Fudge.

Mr Fudge has declined interviews with the Prophet's reporters, but other members of the Ministry are keen to present their own views on the incident.

'We still are not certain of the facts of the event,' one Kenneth Melchior told reporters. 'And it is therefore difficult to venture any kind of opinion. However, Fudge's reluctance to investigate properly is stalling us.'

Other Ministers aren't so vague:

'Cornelius Fudge's handling of this matter is appalling; it does no one any good,' says Arthur Weasley, the Minister for Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. 'Many people are disgruntled with Fudge's actions now and in the recent past, and we are now considering taking steps.'

None of the Ministers interviewed could confirm reports that a resurrected He Who Must Not Be Named was responsible for the attack on the London Underground. However, few actively denied the rumour; nor has hide or hair been seen since of the two mysterious dogs that ended the Death Eater onslaught so fortuitously. However, tense times are in the wind for the Ministry of Magic and the Minister for Magic especially.

—January 4 2001, The Daily Prophet

~~~*~~~

FUDGE FAMILY YACHT GOES UNDER—IS IT AN OMEN? ANTIQUE FIGUREHEAD LOST—SHOULD THE MINISTRY DO THE SAME?

Cornelius Fudge attracted negative public attention again in the wake of a yachting accident off the Eastern Coast yesterday.

The Minister for Magic had cancelled several meetings and appointments—some of which were related to the Underground incident—earlier that day to take his family yachting. The Minister's wife defends this action by saying that he 'has been having a very hard time of it lately and needed a rest, the poor dear.'

As the Ministry reorganised itself around the abrupt cancellations, the Fudge family did indeed enjoy a few hours' sailing before tragedy struck and the yacht, The Pearl, struck against a reef in shallow waters near a Muggle village. The Minister and his wife managed to Apparate their son (10) and two daughters (8, 7) from the vessel, but The Pearl couldn't be salvaged and sank shortly afterwards. The memories of several Muggles on the shore were wiped to cover the accident.

Immediate investigations indicate that the yacht's enchanted figurehead, a family heirloom, temporarily lost its navigational powers and ran The Pearl into the reef. The figurehead has since disappeared.

When interviewed, Mr Fudge was adamant on the cause: 'Sabotage. They're out to get me.' Who 'they' are was not revealed.

When questions arose as to the findings of the inquiry into the Underground incident, he screamed, 'For the last time, no! The Dark Lord has not risen! We worked so hard!'

The Ministry remains unimpressed with their Head's behaviour and signs that the body will begin to kick back are showing:

'Cancelling important meetings and running from a difficult issue are not how a Minister of Magic should act, particularly in tense times such as these,' says one Lucius Malfoy. 'Perhaps it is time to get rid of our own figurehead.'

—January 6 2001, The Daily Prophet

~~~*~~~

MINISTRY OF MAGIC MOVES TO FLICK FUDGE

After a series of controversies, Cornelius Fudge has finally been voted out of the Ministry. The entire organisation met earlier today to address the issue of Mr Fudge's place in the Ministry, and the vote for dismissal was almost unanimous.

'I think that many people were relieved to see him go,' said the Deputy Minister. 'It was getting to the point that we couldn't function properly with Fudge as Head, and things should never be allowed to be carried so far.'

Mr Fudge himself appeared to be among the many relieved; as he gave his final press conference he was quoted as saying, 'It's about time. I'm too old for this kind of thing now.'

Several Ministers have already registered as candidates for the vacant position, including Arthur Weasley (Dept. of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts) and Lucius Malfoy.

—January 7 2001, The Daily Prophet

Hermione put the newspaper down slowly. Harry, who had been reading over her shoulder, saw the same smile on her face that he felt. 'Ron—'

Beside them, Ron made a hushing noise as he read his own letter. His lips mouthed the words and his eyes grew wide, a grin spreading across his face. He looked up. 'Fudge is out! And Dad's going for the top job!' He thumped enthusiastically on the table, making plates clatter. 'Yeah!'

'We know,' Hermione said, pointing at the Daily Prophet article. 'Congratulations.' She winked at Ginny, who sat beside Ron and was, if anything, glowing even more.

Ron jumped up. 'I'm going to tell the others. Oi, Fred! George—guess what?' He raced off to where the twins were sitting.

'Can I see?' Neville reached across the table. He had taken to sitting near the close-knit group, probably in order to be closer to Ginny—much to Ron's disgruntlement. Hermione handed him the newspaper and his eyes scanned quickly over the article in question as Ron came back to his place. 'Of course on the down side, Malfoy's in the running as well.'

Ron waved a hand dismissively. 'Oh, he'll never get it. Hi, Professor McGonagall. Did you see the news?'

McGonagall's mouth twitched. 'I did, Mr Weasley. I'm sure you're very proud. Mr Longbottom, can I have a word with you, please?'

Grimaces of sympathy were shot in Neville's direction as he got up from his seat and followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall. Notes had passed between himself and his Gran with amazing speed over the past few days, and it had begun to weigh Neville down. A note that had gone directly to Professor McGonagall did not bode well.

They watched him jump as a couple of Slytherins hooted, 'In trouble now, Largebottom!' as he passed by their table. The culprits fell silent under McGonagall's hard gaze.

'I guess his Gran's decided for him,' Ron observed.

'It might not be that,' Hermione said. 'She might be talking to him about something else.' She glared indignantly at their sceptical faces. 'It's possible. I'm trying to be a bit positive here, all right? Oh, Ginny, are you okay?'

Ginny had placed her knife and fork down very carefully as they were speaking and was now staring at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. 'I don't want him to go.'

'Don't worry, Gin.' Ron squeezed her arm reassuringly. 'It'll be okay.'

Seamus leaned across Dean, much to his friend's annoyance, to ask what would be okay.

'Neville's having a chat to McGonagall,' Ron said. 'Two guesses what about.'

'Oh.' Seamus glanced at Ginny, ignoring Dean's efforts to push him back into his place. The pair had been told a censored version of Neville's situation, all mention of the Order of the Phoenix omitted. 'Do you think she might have decided to let him stay, and just not sent him a letter?'

'Doubt it,' Harry said. 'Sorry, Ginny.'

'Stop trying to comfort me. I'm close enough to crying as it is.'

A few moments later Neville entered the room again, walking like someone whose brain has taken a holiday. He clutched a bit of paper in his hand and stared around him, unseeing.

'Sorry, Neville,' Ron said gruffly as he sat down.

'Mmm-hmm.'

'What's that paper? Neville? Are you awake, or just pretending?'

Neville blinked a few times and seemed to return to himself. 'Sorry?'

'Yeah, I am. What's on that bit of paper?'

Neville handed the scrap over wordlessly. Harry and Hermione craned to see as Ron folded it out. There were two lines of neat script on it:

Neville dear,

You win; do me proud. Make a mistake and I will not only bring you home but bury you.

In your haste you forgot to mention Trevor in your last letter. How is the rascal getting on?

All my love,

Gran.

'Wow.' Ron looked up. 'How well do you do in Divination, Finnegan?'

'Average.' Seamus grinned. 'But I predict from the look on your face that it'll be Butterbeers all round next Hogsmeade visit.'

'McGonagall said to tell you,' Neville muttered to Harry as Ron and Seamus began to haggle over who would be buying. 'There's a meeting at the end of the week. She said you'd show me where to go.'

'All right. It's about time we had one.' Harry smiled at the boy, who still seemed gobsmacked. 'Congratulations, Neville. I can't believe she's letting you stay!'

'Nor can I.' Neville gulped. 'I just know I'm going to mess up. She'll kill me!'