HARRY POTTER AND THE SEERS' TRUTH
By Lady Lestrange
Fortune Favors the Brave
10 REVIEWS. Here's the new chapter—I really hate blackmailing you into reviewing, but hey, I'm a Slytherin. It's in my nature, so when there are 10 reviews for this chapter, the next one will magically appear. LOL Love my readers and reviewers. Answers to reviews follow the story.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter characters and previous situations belong to JK Rowlings. No infringement is meant or implied. No money is made from this Fanfic. THANKS JK.
--LADY LESTRANGE
***
(A/N: I've been reading a number of fanfics in installments like this one myself, and find it is sometimes hard to remember exactly what has happened before-In a fic as complex as this one is, I thought having a reminder may be helpful for you. If you want to skip it, just page down FOUR times. --Lady Lestrange)
UP TO THIS POINT: Parvati has been having dreams and visions about the Dark Lord, Harry and a Prophecy Child. So far, they are not sure who the prophecy child is, and it is important for them to find him/her. The Sorting Hat is not sorting, so the students have "little brothers and sisters" to show around. The dream team thinks that The Sorting Hat failing is a plot to hide the Prophecy child from the teachers and anyone who can help insure that he/she stays on the side of light. No one is sure that the brothers and sisters actually belong to the house they are currently in.
The Hogwarts Express has been attacked. Dark Marks have been in the sky. The floo network is compromised. The Minister of Magic has been turned. Snape is now teaching both Defense and Advanced Defense, but it looks like Advanced Defense is just an excuse to let the Slytherins and Ginny and Edward visit the Dark Lord. Mrs. Figg is teaching potions and we know very little about her so far, except that she was against Dumbledore's suggestion to make Poly Juice Potion.
Beatrice is an animagus, a bunny. Edward's granny looks like she could have given the Dursleys a few pointers on cruelty. Slytherin is a house at war according to Snape, divided between Death Eaters and those who want to stay on the side of light. Harry uses his Invisibility Cloak and finds out when it is ripped, the Invisibility spell ceases. There is an unwelcome addition to Myrtle's bathroom, Olive Hornby. Peeves is his usual annoying self, but the Baron seems to have a little less control over him.
Samara, for some reason, lofts some wicked, powerful curses. She doesn't look like she has total control over them, which isn't really surprising since she's learned magic on her own from a book, that Harry is sure is a dark book. She seems to like Draco, but don't assume this is a romance. It is not. Ginny is still hearing voices in her head. Harry's scar is hurting more, and neither he nor Ginny know what this means. Ginny is closer with Harry this year, but again, not romantically. There is Edward, the new Gryffindor, who seems interested in Ginny, but Ginny really hasn't gotten over Tom.
We find out about Neville's powerful auror parents. We learn that Neville has a memory charm that was put on him as a baby. He's a more powerful wizard than anyone ever thought as evidenced by his yew wand and the way he reacts to Snape's ministrations in trying to remove the memory charm. We might wonder why Snape is trying to do this himself, instead of enlisting the help of Madam Pomfrey. Sirius and Lupin are on "fieldtrips" with the sixth and seventh years.
Of course we can also wonder why Snape is so determined to teach his classes advanced spells like the Patronus, or we can just chalk it up to Snape, being mean. The Fifth year class starts apparition classes and we meet Professor Sinistra. We also visit Hufflepuff, where we see The Wall, and Slytherin house, where we discover, to our amazement, a magic room that Draco shares with Samara, but Samara has a very unslytherin use for the room. Ravenclaw to come next weekend.
The chapter, CHAINED AND CHARMED, takes place at the same time as DANCING IS AN OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE-when Samara was in Slytherin, dancing. It is Saturday afternoon. Harry and the Gryffindors examine Samara's Dark Book, after they come back from lunch. They find an extreme potion, and decide they need to make a trip to the Chamber of Secrets. Ghastly Ghostly Dinner is when Gryffindor's meet with Samara after her little trip to Slytherin. Samara and Beatrice are persuaded by Edward to help him steal his snake back from his brother Ethan. Things get a little out of hand, and Samara learns more about Slytherin than she ever wanted to know.
Now the Gryffindors are mad at her. Samara wants to make up and be friends with them, but is it possible to befriend both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy? How far will she go to make up, or will she just find some valuable information to store away for future use? (So, don't you want one of those Tee shirts?)
LIONS AND TIGERS: We see a very stressed out Snap both in Harry's memory of what happened with Snap and Neville and in the actual DADA class. We find out Trelawney doesn't want Samara in her class and Samara decides to take Ancient Runes instead. McGonagall assures Samara that Trelawney has done her a favor. McGonagall further talks to Samara about her experiences in Gryffindor, opening the door to give Samara someone to talk to, if she so chooses. We also learned lots more about animagi in McGonagall's class. Snape dismisses the Gryffifndors and keeps the Slytherins after class. We find out it's because Snape wants them to practice their patronus because the Slytherins are so lousy at the spell. Could it be because there are so few happy memories to chose from? In DRAGON BREATH AND BLUDGER BATS, Ginny and Edward set the Slytherins up with fire mints, and Samara gets extremely angry at them both because they hurt her friends. In an effort to contain her anger, she goes to the Quiddich pitch where she meets Fred and George. After lobbing a few quaffles at them in her anger, they decide to ask her to be a Beater for Gryffindor. She refuses, but later when she talks to Draco, he is not very nice to her, (hey, who said Draco was a nice guy?) so she wonders whether or not she should take the Beater job.
In WISH IT REAL; WISH IT NOT we see into one of Ginny's dreams. If you don't remember this dream, go and re-read chapter 28. In Chapter 29, THE SPELLING BEE, Samara is feeling homesick and friendless until Draco invites Samara back to Slytherin. Also, includes a short intro into what's coming up in potions class. In Chapter 30, CHILD OF GRYFFINDOR, Neville and Snape break the Imperio part of the Memory Charm. The trio discusses the Founders' spells, which put their gifts in the Sorting Hat; however they do not have the original parseltongue version of Salazar's spell. Ginny also sees Edward painting and the reader sees a bit of Ginny and Tom's relationship. In SLYTHERIN GAMES—Well, if you don't remember it, you better re-read. Voldemort is finally out and angry—burning and pillaging and we see a little-known inside version of Slytherin through Ginny's eyes. In STICKY SITUATIONS, Samara uses her adhere charm on the Weasley twins, Neville sticks Beatrice's wand to his with bubble gum, and Edward is sticking in Gryffindor. In OW POST the Slytherins get even for the Dragon Breath Mints, among other things—
In the Ravenclaw chapter—I'm still trying to think of a good name for it—Help me please—we meet a number of Ravenclaws and find out a little more about the characters, in Ravenclaw as well as Edward and Samara. So do you think either of them are really Ravenclaws? Hmmmm? In chapter 35 we meet Sirius again who plans to have a talk with Dumbledore about his keeping Harry safe and of course what that nasty Snape is doing to poor Neville. Stay tuned for more Neville and his awesome auror parents coming up after the Quiddich game. The war is heating up and touching the lives of the children. This story is rapidly approaching –nasty things. Now that Harry's hand is good enough to play quiddich, don't you think it's time for him to go to the Chamber? Soon. Very Soon.
Fortune Favors the Brave
On Tuesday evening, Neville planted himself in front of Harry Potter. "Please, Harry. I really need you to come with me."
"I don't know, Neville. You seem to be holding up pretty well. You did the last session by yourself. I feel—rather self conscious. I mean, the first time, I just wanted to make sure Snape wasn't—well, who knows what Snape would do, but now--You might not want me know about all of these memories—" Harry frowned at his half finished Defense homework. He still hadn't started on Charms or Transfiguration. Harry moved Crookshanks off of his lap, and looked around for Hermione—or Ron. For some reason the cat had decided to take a liking to him.
"If Professor Snape knows my memories, you can know them," said Neville. "You're my friend."
"Thanks," Harry said softly.
"In fact, Harry, there's something I wanted to tell you, about my parents. I can't just tell anyone, but I thought maybe you—since your parents—" Neville broke off biting his lip.
"Go ahead, Neville. What did you want to tell me?" asked Harry.
"Well, I asked permission to go to see my parents last weekend. Professor Snape thought it would be a good idea."
"I wondered where you had gone," said Harry, as Crookshanks leapt back up onto his lap, and proceded to dig his claws into Harry's legs, adjusting what he decided was his bed.
"Ouch! Crookshanks!" Harry pushed the cat off of his lap.
"I wanted to know if they remembered—And yet," said Neville, "I was afraid they would—"
"Neville?"
"When I visited, my Mum always would hold out her arms and I used to think she wanted to hug me, but she never would. I—I--remember her hugging me." Neville paced away from Harry and looked out of the window. It was a bleak and cloudy day, threatening rain. Neville stared outside for a moment, and Harry couldn't help remembering the Longbottoms talking about him before the Death Eaters came. If things had been different—How many times had he thought that—If only things had been different. If only—If only—If only Voldemort had never been born. Neville sighed and turned back to Harry, before continuing to talk about his mother.
"When I came forward, she would back away and then she would make all these motions with her hand. I don't know why I never realized that the motions made sense if she had a wand in her hand. She never would let me come to close to her. Sometimes she would blow a kiss to me, but she never touched me. She would never let me touch her. And sometimes she would cry." Neville took a deep breath. "The medi-witches said that sometimes crucio does that—it makes any human touch painful—They said, don't take it personally--"
"Are you sure this isn't something you would rather keep private," asked Harry.
"No," breathed Neville. "I wanted someone to know. Could you see me telling this to Professor Snape?" Neville gave a half-hearted little laugh—"and my Gran. Gran Longbottom—Well, it bothers her that Mum has moments when she seems to understand that there are other people around, and Dad, who's her son, doesn't ever respond. I've figured out what the hand motions were, Harry. Mum had done that same protection spell on me so many times; I used to think it was part of a lullaby. I don't know why I didn't realize what the hand motions were a long time ago. This last time, when I went into St. Mongos and she began making the motions, I copied her, and she stopped. She looked at me. I mean, I don't think she knew I was her son, or anything, but she knew I was trying to copy her. She knew. She seemed kind of surprised at first and then, she got really serious. She corrected me. By—by touching my hand—Neville got tears in his eyes as he talked. "I could tell it hurt her to touch me, so I tried really hard to get it right—the next time--and when I was finished, she said "Safe." She seemed really happy, for about ten seconds, and the medi-witches were almost doing cartwheels. It was the first word she's said in two years that's made any sense. Then she began staring into space again. I tried to tell her , about Barty Crouch, but she never even looked at me after that.
"And your Dad?" asked Harry.
Neville shook his head. "Dad doesn't understand." Neville paused. "He just cries if I try to talk to him, and sometimes he just screams and screams and they have to give him a potion or put him in a sleeping ward. The medi-witches have finally gotten him to the point that he isn't in pain all the time, but if something sets him off—they believe that his mind replays the crucio spells that put him in St. Mongo's in the first place. I'm afraid to talk to him, Harry. I don't want to cause him any more pain."
Harry didn't know what to say. On one hand he was sure that Neville's father would want to know that he was safe, but on the other hand, if talking to him precipitated another crucio nightmare, then of course it was cruel to continue to bring back those memories. Harry stood, nervously fingering the fine material of the Invisibility Cloak.
"Are you going to put that on and come with me--Please?" asked Neville indicating the Cloak.
"I guess so," said Harry, pulling the cloak around himself and disappearing from sight.
"We need to hurry," said Neville. "Professor Snape hates it when I'm late."
"What's your hurry?" asked Edward as he entered the Common room carrying a purring Crookshanks. He glanced around the common room. "Talking to yourself, were you, Longbottom? Where is it you have to go in such a hurry?"
"Snape's office," said Neville. With his hand in his pocket, unconsciously clutching his wand, he sprinted out of the common room.
When Neville returned to Snape's office, he felt more in control of himself than he ever had. Apparently either his time with his parents or these little private study cessions with Snape were helping his self control tremendously. He almost didn't jump every time Snape breathed down his neck.
"Longbottom! You're late." Neville jumped and all of his new found confidence seemed to drain out of him.
"Sorry Sir."
"Do you think I have all evening to wait for you?" Continued Snape, his robe billowing as he paced.
"No, Sir,." said Neville softly. "I got lost again."
Snape Harroumghed, and didn't bother to take away house points, but he noticed Neville's hands were shaking as he crumpled and recrumpled the front of his already wrinkled robe. Perhaps, Snape thought Neville wouldn't make a fool out of himself, if he didn't get him too nervous beforehand. Snape glowered at his unwelcome visitors. "We have company, this evening," said Snape. Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey stepped forward into view.
"Hello, Neville," they both said.
"Why are they here?" asked Neville.
"Dumbledore's orders. To protect your well-being. Fillius is the best in Britian in charms—making and breaking them. St. Mongos uses his services when a charm can't be broken by normal means. And Madam Pomfrey is here to monitor your vital signs and stop us if—Well--Let's just start, Longbottom, " said Snape.
Why—then—Do—do we have to stay in the dungeon? Madam Pomfrey--"
Because," said Flitwick, "Because you started to do this work here, in the dungeon and here will help to continue to jog your memory. The same with Professor Snape. He is familiar to this memory and since you started with him, it is best to remain with him—unless he needs help." Flitwick reached forward and patted Neville's hand.
Neville looked with trepidation at the silvery flowing contents of the basin.
Snape drew his wand. "Before we begin with the memory charm," Snape said, but Neville had pulled his wand and his voice was low and menacing, "There is no memory charm."
Filius and Poppy exchanged glances
"Oh, well perhaps not. We shall see," said Snape, "But now at least I know there is no Imperious Charm coming my way."
"Very good, Severus," Fillius said softly.
"About that," Neville began. "I am ss-sorry. Truly s—sorry, P—profes—ssor."
Snape nodded. "Shut up and look at the memories," he snapped. Neville looked, and so did Harry.
Professor Flitwick leaned into Snape and said something softly to him. Snape said nothing, he just continued to scowl at Neville and now, Flitwick.
__
In the pensieve, the only sound was the sound of the rocking chair moving and the growing howl of a cold November wind.
"I'd hate to see that Potter child raised by muggles, Frank," said Anne Longbottom.
"Me too."
"He's just Neville's age," said Anne.
"It's not that Dumbedore wants him to be raised by muggles. It's that he wants the boy to be safe."
"There are a lot of places in the wizarding world which could be safe," spat Anne.
"Such as living with two aurors, perhaps?" said Frank with a twinkle in his eye.
"Perhaps," she said moving behind Frank and rubbing his tense shoulders. "Why don't you lay Neville in his crib," said Anne. "He's asleep."
There was a flash of light and a soft pop outside that had nothing to do with the wind—followed by another and another and another—
Neville sucked in his breath, but seemed much less concerned about this part of the memory than he was just day before yesterday. He seemed almost in control. He thought his parents seemed to have given him strength. He counted the pops--nine—ten—eleven—twelve--They sent twelve Death Eaters to take out his parents—no that was wrong. There was one in the floo, Neville remembered.
==
Frank pulled his wand and handed Neville to his wife. "Take the baby," he said shortly. "Alert the Ministry."
"I'm not leaving you," she said stubbornly
"It's going to get ugly."
"That's why I'm not leaving you. Together we can handle it."
Frank turned to the fire, and threw in some powder. "Minister—"he began, but the fire glowed green. "Bloody hell!" Frank swore and tried to extinguish the fire before the wizard was through the floo—"Get the baby out of here," he shouted. "You can't fight with him in your arms, Anne. At least put him in his crib."
Baby Neville awoke and began to cry.
Teenage Neville was breathing fast, but hadn't broken down into tears.
"No. I want him close-by." said Anne. And Neville watched her do the same ward that he had watched her do just three days ago at St. Mongo's. He tried to copy her motions, but they were too fast.
She was hurriedly resetting the wards around Neville's playpen, just as a Death Eater appeared in their fireplace. Frank sealed him in before he could come out or floo back. He looked like a muggle picture, frozen in the fireplace.
Anne had finished the playpen, placed Neville in it and pronounced "Mutus!" silencing Neville's cries. "I'm sorry baby," she whispered. "You're safe. Mum will be back soon." She then transfigured the whole playpen into a large over stuffed chair. She did all this in a matter of seconds.
"She's awesome," whispered Neville, tears now streaming. "I wish I had known her—This wasn't the first time she had performed that ward for me. I wonder how many times she did that. I'm not afraid. I'm really not afraid that I will get hurt."
"Well, that could be because you were so young in this memory," said Snape.
"I'm always afraid," Neville said softly. "But when I was one year old, I wasn't afraid. I knew the spell would protect me. It had protected me before." Neville raised his wand and began to copy the lines and flicks that his mum had used to put up the ward.
"That's right," cheered Flitwick. "Oh Bravo, Neville."
Snape was scowling as usual.
"I did it right?" asked Neville. "Yes. Almost flawlessly, except that it would have been better if you had reinforced the spell with the words."
"I don't know the words," said Neville.
"Well, they are –" began Flitwick.
"Can we please, just get on with this?" growled Snape.
"Yes, of course," said Professor Flitwick. "Stop after charms class and I'll go over it with you, Neville."
They continued to watch the penseive.
Neville was basically a quiet child so even though it felt strange to have his crying silenced by the spell, he was not unduly upset. His parents had seemed intense, but not panicked. He trusted them with the infinite faith of a one-year-old, and he watched curiously from his safe hiding place.
Suddenly, the air felt wrong—heavier. Neville knew something had happened, but he didn't know what. He looked at his parents.
The teen age Neville understood. The Death Eaters had put up apparition wards. Now that he knew what they were, he felt them here at Hogwarts. The 12 Death Eaters that it took to subdue his parents, didn't want the aurors Frank and Anne Longbottom to escape—especially not now—after the defeat of the Dark Lord.
They were hungry for information, but more than that, they were hungry for revenge. Neville clenched his fists as he forced himself to watch. He found his wand in his pocket and wrapped his hands around it. He knew what was coming and silently urged his parents on, wishing somehow by his support he could change the final outcome.
They don't want us to disapparate" said Anne. "Why?"
Frank, in the penseive shrugged. I don't know—I wasn't planning on going anywhere." He grinned at Anne.
Dear God, thought Neville. He thinks this is fun! He's not afraid in the least—he's—he's excited.
"At least not until I've caught a few of these sons of bitches," said Frank, his eyes blazing fire, he raised his wand. "Ready?"
Anne nodded, determination in every line of her stance, and wands raised, side by side, they threw open their front door and confronted the 12 Death Eaters who had surrounded their house. Four of them were down before the Death Eaters knew that the Longbottoms had decided to bring the fight to the Death Eaters instead of waiting inside for them to attack.
Anne found herself move into a defensive position beside her husband. They were surrounded and being pushed inexorably back toward the door of their home. As if on a pre-planned cue, Anne and Frank moved through the front door and into their sitting room. The door shattered, showering them with fragments of wood.
"You're going to pay, Longbottom," drawled a soft feminine voice.
"I've never hurt you, Narcissia," said Anne. "Give up now and we'll see what we can do for you with the Ministry. Think of your baby. Do you want him growing up without a mother?"
"You and your kind killed my sister!" Narcissia shouted.
"I didn't. Her death was her own doing," said Anne.
Baby Neville couldn't count and he didn't know the people surrounding his parents, but he didn't like them. There were two women in front. One had pale blond hair escaping from under the black hood and the other woman he could see nothing of—except a strand or two of dark hair and her terrible eyes. They seemed to be somehow connected to one another, which made them even more terrible. They frightened him and if he hadn't been muted, he would have screamed and screamed—
==
"I saw her in my dream," the teenage Neville whispered. "I saw them both—no—three—three sisters."
"Do you often have prophetic dreams, Longbottom?" asked Snape.
"No, Sir," said Neville softly. "I never remember my dreams, now. I meant my baby dream that night. One died. One hid, and one –Neville's face scrunched in concentration. He shook his head. "I can't remember—"
"He could have been a seer," said Flitwick
"The most fragile of gifts," said Madam Pomfrey. "I doubt I can help him recover that."
They turned back to the pensieve, and only Harry wanted to ask "What about the other sister? One dead—that was Laurel. One hid—Narcissia? And what about Valeriana? Didn't Snape say that she was the worst? But she was in Askaban."
==
Five men stood with Frank and Anne Longbottom. "Now!" hissed the man beside the lady who had spoken earlier, and there was a blinding flash of light.
"Crucio!"
When Baby Neville opened his eyes two more men were lying on the ground, but his parents were also on the ground: twitching and crying. Wands were raised.
'They were so brave," thought Neville while the tears streamed steadily down his face. "They were unlike any parents he had imagined. He loved them. How could he have learned so much about them in just these few memories? How could he have lost them to these parasites? He clenched his fists. Remembering saying once to Malfoy—'I'm worth 12 of you, Malfoy'. Whatever made him say that back in first year? Perhaps some part of him remembered this. Remembered, it took twelve Death Eaters to bring his parents down."
"Let's skip ahead a little," whispered Snape, adjusting the pensieve.
They had just stopped the crucio spells. Only his mother's ragged breathing was heard. She began to cough and spat clots of blood on the carpet. She lay, twitching uncontrollably, her hands clenching and unclenching.
"Tsk. Tsk, Valeriana," said Narcissia. "Too rough. We don't want to kill her before we get the information. You'd better let someone else take over."
Lucius put the point of his wand under his father's chin. "Where did the Ministry Muggle lovers take Our Lord?" he asked menacingly.
"I don't—" Lucius spun around and pointed his wand at Mum. "CRUCIO!"
"Albania," breathed his father.
"It's a big country," said Lucius.
"I don't know where!" moaned his father. "I swear—"
"I believe him," said Desmond Lestrange.
"One way to be sure," said Narcissia pulling a small vial from her pocket. "Veritaserium."
She pulled open father's lip and dropped some into the space between his lip and his clenched teeth.
"Why--Why didn't you use it before?" Da croaked.
"You've turned too many of our friends over to those Azkaban monsters," said Lucius softly. "You've got a long way to suffer before you die—"
Neville had stopped crying. He sniffed softly, and clenched his fists. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Lucius Malfoy sneering at his father.
"Tell me how much you know about our Dark Lord," said Desmond. Da began to speak, but it didn't sound like him. He sounded far away and so sad—
Once again the memory seemed to blink and the pensieve went silver.
Snape clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles were white and he muttered a long line of swear words that shouldn't have been said in front of a student, but Neville didn't notice. Neville had gone for his wand.
Then he hesitated, bringing his left hand up to his forehead as if he were in pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Professor?" Neville asked. "I didn't try to hex you again, did I?
"Don't you remember?" asked Snape softly. "Why did you want to hex me?"
"Because—because—"
"Just say it," snapped Snape.
"Because you're a slimy, greasy git and you're always unfair to the Gryffindors," whined Neville miserably.
Flitwich chuckled and Snape glared at him.
"No, that's not the memory," said Snape.
Harry could almost feel that Snape was in danger of biting his tongue off. If Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey hadn't been there, he was certain that Gryffindor would have lost points for that comment.
==
In the pensieve, baby Neville couldn't see any more. A black robe blocked his view. "I've found the child," said Barty Crouch. "I can't get him out. He's protected."
"Let me see." The woman, Valeriana came over and stared at the now visible Neville. He looked into her hooded black eyes and was afraid. She examined the wards for a moment and then pointed her wand at him. "Open," she said. The fire of the spell rolled around the outside of his hiding place.
"Avada Kedavra, would get through it," said Barty.
"Be my guest," said Valeriana gesturing. "Until I know what he's protected by, I'm not trying Avada. I don't want to end up like my dear, departed sister."
Barty nodded. "I guess you're right. These children are dangerous."
Valeriana sighed and stooped down to his level. "Hello, little wizard," she said softly. "Get the Mother."
Barty dragged Neville's mother over to his hiding place, but Neville did not think she looked like his mother. No one was still living inside of her body. Her eyes were as smooth and blank as a lake on a clear day. "Your son needs you," Valeriana hissed. "You have to open the ward. He's going to starve to death! No one will find him!"
His mother stared at him unseeing. "Mum-mum-mum-mum" said Neville planitively, but no sound came out. The others could see his lips moving and encouraged him. His mother did nothing, but occasionally twitch or moan. Once she shivered all over and opened her mouth and screamed. Neville began to cry.
"She's useless," spat Valeriana, pushing her aside. "OK little wizard. You are going to have to do this yourself."
"Are you crazy?" asked Desmond. "He's a baby. He can't do magic."
"Have you had a good look at the window?" countered Valeriana, glaring at her husband. "All I need is a crack." Valeriana began cooing baby talk at him. She sat next to him for the next half-hour coaxing him to reach for a stuffed owl, a magic rattle that showered sparks like a wand, a cookie, a bottle—
Desmond joined the other four Death Eaters who were ignoring both Neville and Valeriana. They were having their own conversation, discussing the possible conclusions that could be drawn from Frank Longbottom's veritaserium testamony.
"Interesting revelation," breathed Barty Crouch. "So what are we going to do, now that the Dark Lord is—gone—"
Lucius settled himself on the Longbottom's sofa. "Do you really think we can put him back together?" He asked.
"I think we should just start over with a new one," said Narcissia. "After all we already know where the muggle line is—that was the hard part."
"Squib," corrected Desmond. "Squib line—they are still wizards—wizards without magic."
"New what?" asked Lucius.
"New Heir of Slytherin of course" Said Narcissia, with a smug smile. "Everything is still in place to summon Salazar. The only one who will die in the forests of Albania is Tom Riddle. How hard can it be to seduce a muggle? Some cousins of the family still live in little Hengleton, don't they?"
"Are you volunteering, Narcissia?" said Barty
"She's a little busy right now," replied Lucius dryly.
Desmond suppressed a chuckle, and winked at Lucius. "Valeriana too. Twice as busy as Narcissia as a matter of fact. Of course the current available squib may be female—"
Lucius curled his lip in disgust. "In that case, Barty can have—"
A soft buzzing sound caught everyone's attention, and Lucius' comment ended with a vulgarity.
"Forget the child, Valeriana. Marshall's magic detector is buzzing." Said Barty. "Someone tried to use the floo."
"We need to get out of here," urged Desmond.
Valeriana turned back to Neville.
"Sorry we're so rushed," said Lucius turning to the Longbottoms as if thanking them for an evening of entertainment. With a soft laugh, he continued, "Naricissia and I must be leaving. Young Draco is home terrorizing the house elves, and my lovely wife needs her rest."
Narcissia snickered and released the wards that prevented anyone from disapparating. "Don't take too long, sister," said Narcissia as she looked at Valeriana who was still waving the bottle in front of the Longbottom brat. "Marshall's magic detectors have never been wrong."
"No one will search the child's memories anyway, Valeriana. There's no reason for anyone to believe he has anything important to remember," said Lucius.
As Narcissia and Lucius disapparated, Desmond approached his wife, who was still intent upon the baby—black eyes boring into blue ones. "Your sister's right," he whispered. "The Ministry will think nothing happened here, but Auror torture and—"
"SH-HH-H!" She snapped at him, her concentration entirely on the child.
At last, Neville's hunger was getting the better of him. He wanted the bottle—He reached, but something
blocked his hands from it "Ba-ba-ba-ba" he murmered—He wanted it. He wanted it. HE WANTED IT!
He almost had it. He knew he did, when the flash of light blinded him and the sucking pain removed the very thought of hunger, along with every other thought, from his mind. He saw the gleeful black eyes staring at him and he knew nothing but fear. He crumpled up inside of himself and sucked his thumb. He looked at his Mum and Da outside of his safe place—which had not been safe. He didn't know who they were. He only knew that devils had black eyes and no where was safe.
==
"She blocked my memories," Neville muttered. "She hurt my parents-- me."
"And now you have the opportunity to see at least some of the people who started this, in Askaban where they belong," said Flitwick.
Neville nodded.
"All you have to do is see what's hidden—It's when they gave your father the veritaserium."
Neville nodded and then his face screwed up in pain—
"Every time I try to remember, I feel like there's a wall of bees—no—It's more like--knives in front of me—Blocking them--It hurts," said Neville. Neville ran his hands over his body, shuddering as if pushing off bugs or knives--
"Damn her," spat Snape. "I knew she'd use—" He shook his head, as Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey looked at him expectantly.
"Let's see what I can do," said Flitwick jumping down from his chair and moving right in front of Neville.
"Neville," said Flitwick. "I'm going to take one of your memories and put it in the pensieve. I'm taking one of the memories that is blocked. While I'm pulling it out, you will feel mostly pressure, until we try to dislodge the memory from you. Then for a few seconds, it's gonna hurt—like pins and needles all over your body—or a swarm of bees--I'll try to be quick. Where's your wand?"
"S—ss.—Professor—S—snape."Neville pointed at Snape, who patted his pocket, where the wand lay.
Very well then, put both hands on the chair in front of you and concentrate on the chair. Try not to move.
"NO," said Professor Snape. "Not on the chair. On your arms, Longbottom. Concentrate on your arms. Do you remember what I did when we were breaking the Imperio?"
"Yes, but—I don't want to--"
"But I want you to remember. I want you to focus on that. That memory. It might be strong enough-"
"But I—"
"Focus!" growled Snape.
Flitwick gently pulled the memory, but as soon as he tried to release it from Neville, a long groan tore from Neville's throat. He was gripping the chair so tightly that Snape and Flitwick both thought it would splinter. Suddenly he let go of the chair and doubled over, clutching his belly—
"His pulse and blood pressure are up," said Poppy.
"Got it," said Flitwick triumphantly, while Neville panted like he had just run a race, his arms wrapped convulsively about himself.
"OK, relax, Neville. We're going to wait until your heart and blood pressure return to normal," said Poppy. "You need to wait a while before you do the next one." She told Flitwick.
"The next one—" squeaked Neville.
"Poppy, I have potions you may not have," said Snape. "Something to take the edge off—"
"No," said Flitwick. "Not if we're going to look at the memories. We could use a sleeping potion or a charm if we didn't want to keep the memories, but I don't want to risk interfering with the memories any more. I think Neville's lost enough of himself. Right Neville?"
Neville nodded shortly, while reaching his hand under his shirt.
"There's no blood, Longbottom," said Snape. "But with the right spell, a talented witch, like Valeriana can make you feel as if you just lost half of your guts. I'm assuming that was what you felt--"
"Talented?" said Madam Pomfrey scandalized.
"Yes, Poppy," said Snape. "Valerianna may not side with Professor Dumbledore, but you certainly cannot deny her talent—Dark talents, but talents nonetheless."
"But—" began Madam Pomfrey.
"We'll go slowly," interrupted Flitwick. "When you want to stop, Neville, just say so. We can continue tomorrow or the next day. We can do one memory a day, if that's all you can handle. It might take a while--"
"No," said Neville. "Those parasites kept me from my parents for fifteen years. I want every memory back. I want them back now. Tonight." He gripped the back of the chair and glanced at Flitwick. "Just do it," he said, locking eyes with Snape.
Flitwick nodded raising his wand, but before he began, Neville felt Madam Pomfrey move forward and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. A moment later, although he saw no one, he felt another hand on the other shoulder. Harry Potter, thought Neville.
"Ready?" said Flitwick.
Neville nodded, determination in every line of his face, but instead of looking at Snape. Neville looked into the swirling pensieve where they had put his last thought—the testamony that Valeriana had been so anxious to hide:
++
"I know everything about In integrum restituere," Frank Longbottom said. Antonin Dolohov told me, before he died.
"To restore what to it's former power?" wondered Harry as he mentally translated the spell's name.
A hush fell over the group as if they were in a trance and couldn't speak. They barely seemed to breathe.
"Tell us," said Valeriana.
Frank Longbottom continued in a veritaserum monotone. "Dolohov believed that Salazar Slytherin did not die. He left his soul—his consciousness in the Chamber of Secrets—so that he would live forever. He left spells that could only be performed by his heir. They had to be done in parseltongue.
"Not what—" thought Harry. "Who—Salazar Slytherin, revived by his heir--"
Harry turned his attention back to the pensieve.
"Because The Riddle line had run to squibs, and there would be no magical heir, a witch—" Frank coughed and seemed to come to himself slightly. "My wife," he whispered. "Please—"
"Are you asking ME for mercy, Longbottom?" scoffed Lucius.
"I know you, Lucius," said Frank. "The aurors will find you—"
"Well, we'll have to be sure they don't find us," said Barty. "Constant Vigilance! Along with the help of Marshall Avery's toys."
"Didn't you notice that your dark wizard detectors aren't working?" questioned Lucius. "Or maybe we aren't dark wizards—"
Young Barty Crouch laughed pushing his death eater mask off of his sweat streaked freckled face. Frank looked at him, recognition dawning. "Surely? Bart? Barty? You aren't one of these," Frank said. "Go home. Go home to your father. This life will—"
"My father isn't home," said Barty coldly. "He's at the Ministry where his true family lives. This is my family now."
"Barty—"
"Continue now, Longbottom." demanded Lucius, drawing on the power of the veritaserum. "You were saying—There would be no heir—"
"A witch was chosen to bear the heir of Salazar Slytherin," said Frank. "They found Salazar's squib descendant and she seduced him."
"They?" questioned Valeriana. "Who are they?"
"Doogle, Malfoy, Lestrange—"
Desmond sucked in his breath.
"Dolohov, Black, Rosier, Crabbe, Goyle, -- "Frank's tone was low and monotonous.
"Avery, Patil, Effler, Ogleby, Snape--
"Kill him," hissed Naricissia. "Kill him now! He knows too many names."
==
And each of those names was like a knife stuck in Neville. Something crunched beneath his hands.
"He's broken the chair," said Pomfrey "And his pulse is up again. We need to stop."
"No," croaked Neville. "Take the next memory! I want to see the rest!"
"But Neville—" began Flitwick.
"Do it now," demanded Neville. "Before I change my mind."
Neville now clung to Snape's suggestion that he focus on the cutting of his arm that Snape had given him. He could almost feel the burning of the cut Snape had given him, and then his poor tired brain couldn't quite focus and the sharp searing pain pierced his middle again. He cried out, and then Flitwick was putting the memory in the penseive, for all to see:
==
"Kill him," hissed Naricissia. "Kill him now!
"All in good time, sister," said Valeriana. "Tell us about this witch that seduced the muggle."
"Doogle," coughed Frank. "Doogle and Riddle. Their child was Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle was groomed by the cult to hate muggles. His mother disagreed with his treatment, and so she was killed by—a ritual sacrifice and the cult—gave her power to him."
"They decided to put him in the muggle orphanage and then they--controlled the muggles. They watched him—all the time. Constantly. Constant Vigilance. They raised him to be Salazar's son."
"No!" screeched Valeriana. "We raised him to BE Salazar himself."
"Shut up, Valeriana," said Desmond. "You tell him too much!"
"He's not going to live to tell it again," said Lucius. "We should kill him now."
"Have you told anyone else these things?" asked Narcissia carefully.
"Only Anne."
"What else do you know about this, Frank?" asked Narcissia in a deceptively soft voice.
"That's everything I know," replied Frank, still under the effects of the drug. "My wife—"
"Is dead," said Lucius viciously.
"No." said Frank. "You lie. I would know if she were dead." Frank turned his steely blue eyes toward Lucius and blue eyes to blue eyes met in a test of wills. "Tell your Keeper, there are worse things than death," said Frank in utter calm.
"I know," said Lucius. "I have a number of them in mind for you—"
"Things so dark—so empty of life," Frank continued his voice rasping with the repeated screaming. He didn't seem to hear Lucius' threat. Frank's voice sank into a whisper as he retreated into a world where Lucius had never been. His eyes, fixed and staring, saw another world, another reality. "There are things that suck the life from living souls—And your soul Lucius—Damned--And the life of your child—forfeit—All for naught—All for that devil snake—who cares nothing for you--"
Lucius drew his wand, but Valeriana was quicker: "Crucio!" she shouted
Frank's voice rose to a scream and then was swallowed by the gurgling of blood.
Narcissia's hand had gone instinctively to her belly and her unborn child.
"Kill them both," shouted Barty, his pale face now red with anger.
"No!" hissed Valeriana through gritted teeth. "Don't kill them. He dares to curse my family!
"Valeriana, I don't think it was a curse," interrupted Desmond, but Valeriana didn't listen.
Her voice rose to a fever pitch. "Let them live in a crucio nightmare for the rest of their lives. –all of us together—that should do it. We want everyone to believe that he is a babbling idiot" she laughed harshly. "So let's make sure that he is one!"
She looked around at her companions. "Are you with me?" she asked. "Are you?" she screeched.
They pointed their wands at Frank Longbottom.
The clarity of the vision was already leaving him and Frank Longbottom's last coherent thought was that at least they hadn't found Neville.
"CRUCIO!" said the six of them.
"Again! CRUCIO!"
"CRUCIO!"
Teenaged Neville was sitting in a crumpled heap, crying. "They didn't deserve that," he whispered.
"No one deserves that," said Madam Pomfrey. "That's why it's an unforgivable curse.
Madam Pomfrey wanted take Neville to the Infirmary over night, or at least to walk him back to Gryffindor Common room, but Neville asked to be alone. Harry walked in Invisible silence beside him, until they were well out of the dungeon. Then he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, but still said nothing.
"She's wrong," said Neville, softly.
"About what?"
"There are those who deserve it," Neville said.
Harry nodded. "He could certainly think of a few himself—certainly Voldemort, that Valeriana woman, the Malfoys—" Harry's mouth was suddenly dry.
"Do you think you could do it?" asked Neville.
"Me?"
"I mean, Moody—well Crouch said that none of us could do the unforgivables. Remember. He said we could yell 'Avada Kadavra' and he probably wouldn't get more than a nose bleed—If I had known then—who he was--" Nevilles's hands were clenched into fists.
"Intent," said Harry softly. "It's how much you really want to do it—"
Neville nodded. "Crouch said a lot of things," replied Neville. "Like Constant Vigilance—watching the Dark Lord—but I never understood—"
"I don't think anyone did," said Harry.
They had arrived at the Fat Lady. Neville turned around and held out his hand to Harry. "Thanks Harry," he said as Harry shook his hand. Thoughts tumbled through Harry's brain. If things had been different, maybe he would have been raised as Neville's brother. A few weeks ago, that wouldn't have been very appealing, but now, Harry felt differently. He would be proud to call this boy brother. Neville let go of his hand and turned back to the portrait hole. "'fortes fortuna adiuvat", he said.
"Good," said the Fat lady, as she opened the door. "Fortune favors the Brave. You remembered and you didn't even write it down!"
Harry had the feeling that tonight marked a whole new beginning in Neville's life, and perhaps his own.
Later, that night Harry lay in bed thinking about unforgivable curses. Could he do it? Neville had asked. It was a question he had never wanted to ask himself, and yet, he wasn't so naïve as to think that one day, he wouldn't have to answer that question with an action—or with his own death. And yet, what about the fact that his and Voldemort's wands were brother wands. Harry ran his fingers against the smooth holly wood of his wand. Inside was a phoenix feather. Fawkes' feather. A phoenix was a sign of life and rebirth. Was this wand ever meant to take a life? How was a spell like Avada Kadavra forced through it? How could Voldemort kill with such a wand, and yet, Harry knew that he did. He had seen the images of his parents and Cedric and the others come from Voldemort's wand. Voldemort had certainly killed them, and in some way, the phoenix feather from Fawkes had participated in that action. Gripping his own wand, it felt so wrong. It felt rebellious in his hand. This wand, his wand, Voldemort's wand, didn't want to kill.
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Quick! Review!
I want to know what you are thinking about this chapter right now, while it's fresh in your mind. You can read the answers to reviewers later. Lady Lestrange
THANK YOU TO MY LOYAL REVIEWERS. YOU ARE CATCHING UP TO ME SO I HAVE TO KEEP MOVING TO GET THESE CHAPTERS OUT ON TIME. THANKS FOR HELPING ME AND MY MUSE BY REVIEWING. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ MY OTHER STORIES, PLEASE DO SO. LADY LESTRANGE
Kemenran: Oy Oliver Twist. More gruel coming up soon.
Reiven: Ethan in the Gryffindor common room—think that will be interesting? Do you? Me too. LOL. OK, so you're SLYTHERIN. You need to learn how to say this word: MUDBLOOD. I haven't even seen you type it yet. Technically, speaking that means dirty blood, which means, that to Slytherins, muggleborns are ALWAYS mudbloods. In fact, I'm not even sure if muggle born is one word or two—I've never written it. The word is Mudblood. Say it 10 times, just for the practice. Just let it roll of your lips. It's so much more descriptive than muggleborn, and easier to say too. Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. (Sorry to all you non-Slytherins who are cringing.) Now that we have that out of the way, let's look at half bloods. If you like them, you never mention the fact that they are half bloods, because of course, that would mean dirty blood, and you would have to call them mudbloods. However, if you are a true Slytherin you probably wouldn't associate with half bloods anyway, and so that word would just roll smoothly off of your lips—mudblood. Technically, speaking, that would mean that they ARE half bloods, but Slytherins are more concerned with purity than technicality. So technically, why all this concern about half bloods? Aha! I know! You're a mudblood, aren't you? (love your reviews—so fun)
Mella deRanged: Do you want to hear the truth about why Harry didn't win the game? OK. It's a secret. Don't tell anyone, ok? I thought of this cool title—Just a Game: Just a Memory—but to use that title, doesn't it sound like someone has to say, "It's just a game?" and if they say that, it sounds like they are trying to console the losing team. So that's why Ravenclaw won. That and I couldn't have Hufflepuff win could I?
Elfmoon87: Do you know why it didn't take as long to read? It was shorter. The last three chapters were gigantic 10K words or better and this was back to the normal 6K. Also, thanks to you for finding Madame Maxime's first name for me. I looked for hours in GoF, because I thought it said her name, but when I couldn't find it, I thought maybe I was mistaken. I didn't think to look at OotP. It's changed in the last chapter. Madame Maxime's first name is Olympe.
Silverfox: Thanks for your help. In the Raven's Nest. Maybe.
Trillium: Yes, I thought JK needed a little variety. I mean who would go to see the Quiddich games if Gryffindor always won? Where's the mystery and excitement? Anyway, Harry had a hurt hand—remember Samara's book bit him. He was worried about Hedwig. Their keeper was new, nervous, and inexperienced. One chaser, Ginny, didn't exactly have her mind on the game—so if ever there was a time to lose this was it.
Ele: Begging on your knees usually doesn't mean much to a Slytherin, but in your case, I'll make an exception. Here's the next chapter. I will however, expect a review before you get up off of those knees.
The Elemental Sorceress: Thanks for the review. Writer's Block? Well, sometimes I don't know what to write, or more often, I write myself into a corner and can't figure out what the characters will do to get out. Sometimes I walk around and try to imagine the conversation between the characters and I kind of act it out or talk to myself—a little like Ginny—OK don't tell them at St. Mongo's—I escaped. He-he-he- I also try to think of my story right before I go to bed, and actually, one chapter that's coming up next visit to Slytherin was a dream, well, nightmare actually, so welcome to my nightmare. Sometimes, I have to do something totally different, and that's where my other little short story, THE SLYTHERIN TRUTH: The Real Story of How Harry Potter Got His Scar, came from. I was overwhelmed with all the darkness I was writing in Seers' Truth, and wanted to write something silly and fun. It sort of cleared my head for the next "hold your breath" chapter in Seers' Truth.
Ennui: Welcome. I have to ask you, did you stay up half the night to read all the way to chapter 39 in one sitting (gives me warm fuzzies) or were you just too lazy to review earlier and stuffed all your favorite parts from chapters 1-39 into one review? Glad you love it either way.
Reiven: (Anonymous) OK, you're not a Ravenclaw. Lol. Olive Hornby and Myrtle had this conversation in chapter 34--Ravenclaw. I'd just a call it a mudblood though--
About Harry Potter. Technically he is a pureblood, but that wouldn't stop a Slytherin from bringing to mind the fact that he was not from a pureblood family, since his mother was a mudblood.
Ye think? Werewolves? (Silly muggle. There's no such thing as werewolves) However, I believe that if a muggle were bitten, he would become a werewolf just like a wizard would. He would, however, have a much more difficult time finding wolfsbane potion in his local apothecary/pharmacy.
PLEASE REVIEW. At least you don't have to pay for this book.
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Coming up next, Hogsmeade and then The Chamber of Secrets.
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