A/N: This chapter is in 1974, where Neville is. This is James, Sirius, Remus, Lily, Severus, and Peter's fourth year, and Alice's (in my fic) 7th year in Hogwarts. It's also Frank's 7th year, but he's not at Hogwarts.

-Also, my friend has helped me come up with the new character in this chapter. A big thanks to Jess. Let me know what you think of him.

DarkLordLongbottom: Thank you for reviewing twice! I'm glad there are people reading my story. We'll find out what the room REALLY is and what happened to our dear Nev in a later chapter. But, don't worry, I've given something new for you to think about in this chapter. This chapter is dedicated to you for being the first to review twice. Thanks again!

Turning Your Time Around

Chapter 9: "Deception"

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Neville rounded the corner to the stairs and, ignoring his aching body, ran down them and into the hospital wing. He walked quickly over to his back and climbed in.

This is too confusing. Why in the world am I the one who has to be here! Heh, maybe I'm here to "prove my worth" or something. Oh yes, that's it. I've been wishing for a little adventure, and now I've got it. Stupid, Neville! I've got to stop thinking my life is dull.

His thoughts changed just then, and fear raced through Neville's mind.

I hope Gran's okay. I wonder if she knows I'm gone. I wonder if anyone knows I'm gone. Ron does.. but so does Professor Snape. He's just the person I wanted to help me, heh. Yea, right.. At least I don't have to be in his sodding Potions class anymore.

Just then, Lily came walking into the hospital wing, looking around for him.

"Neville, what happened?" Lily asked as she found him and sat down on his bed.

"I told you - I don't know. What..." Neville paused. "What did I do?"

Lily looked down at the bed coverings, trying to avoid his eyes. This was not a question that she wanted to answer.

"Lily?" Neville prodded, seeing how she was deliberately not looking at him.

Lily glanced up for a moment and then back down again.

"You were acting really strange," Lily spoke barely over a whisper. When Neville didn't say anything, she continued. "You sat down in a chair and you started talking about a gate and road or something in this eerie voice. Then you just went limp." Lily paused again and then told the last of it. "I tried to wake you up, but you kept mumbling. And then you just got up, said a spell and the whole place was different."

Lily looked up to find Neville staring into space like he was far, far away. He seemed to be thinking about a lot of different things because his face changed several times to show fear, happiness, anger and then contentment. He looked up and met Lily's eyes.

"What do you think of me?" Neville asked her, still seeming kind of far-away in his mind.

Lily stared at him for a moment. She was not expecting him to ask that. She cleared her throat and replied kindly, "You a friendly person. You seem a little shy, but sometimes you're just the opposite. You're definitely someone I trust. Does that answer what you wanted to know?"

Neville nodded, but there was something there that betrayed his response "Yes.". It seemed as if he was expecting her to say exactly what she did.

Lily did not have time to ask him about it because at that moment, she looked up at the clock.

"I'm late!" Lily exclaimed, jumping up from the bed. "I'm sorry, Neville. I have to go, but I'll be back when classes are done, okay?" Lily asked quickly.

"Okay, see you later."

Neville's glum reply made her want to stay so badly, but if she didn't leave for Potions now, she'd never make it before the professor got there. Her Potions professor always came in 11 minutes late to every class. Never 10, and never 12 minutes late, exactly 11 every class. That was one of the great mysteries of the school that everyone talked about.

"Bye," Lily said as she left the hospital wing.

"Bye," Neville replied even though she was long gone. He sighed and looked across the wing out a window. The wind was rattling the windows lightly, and the trees were swaying at the force of it.

A strange feeling overcame him as he thought that if he could just stop and live in this moment forever, he'd be happy. No one would miss him.

I could just stay here.

Neville shook his head lightly and vowed to himself never to think that again. Right at that moment, a voice broke into his thoughts and he jerked his head upward at the call of his name. He looked around the hospital wing, but he found no one.

"Over here," the voice said, somewhere over from the right.

Neville swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up slowly. His back was still aching along with his shoulder. He turned to the painting of a woman smiling at him behind a desk. She was writing in the little book that she had wrote his name down in when she first met him.

"Hello Esor," Neville said with a smile, his mood changing drastically at seeing her. The thought I've got a friend here fluttered through his mind. He didn't seem to think of Lily as a friend yet, just someone who pitied him. That wasn't the slightest bit true, but Neville just couldn't help feeling that way.

"How are you?" Esor asked him, returning the smile.

"I'm all right. You?" Neville replied.

"I'm doing very well, thank you. I noticed you were all alone in here and I thought you might want to talk."

Neville glanced off to the side. "Well, I really don't thinkWhat the hell?"

Neville had just cought a glimpse of himself in a mirror, but what he saw was NOT him. His hair was darker brown and slightly longer. His face was slightly less-round, and he seemed taller. Neville stomped over to the mirror to see a bit better.

"What's the matter?" Esor asked him in a concerned tone. She couldn't see what was so wrong with looking in a mirror.

"Nothing," Neville replied absently, turning back to Esor's painting with a scowl. He resembled Snape slightly with the expression on his face. That was truly frightening him, so he let a smile cross his face.

I've got to ask Merlin about this, ASAP.

"We were going to talk. What do you want to talk about?" Neville asked her with the same fake smile.

Esor eyed him warily, but did not ask about his little outburst. She replied, "What do you like to do in your spare time, Neville?"

"Not much I really do besides read about plants. I love plants." Neville replied, adding "And Herbology." as a after thought

"Oh? That's nice. Do you grow any plants?" Esor asked him. It was becoming more and more difficult to talk to him, knowing what she knew. But, she had no choice but to go along with it if she wanted Neville to live. She glanced of to the side and then back to Neville in front of her.

"I used to, back home." Neville's glum voice was back, and all he wanted to do was tell Esor about how he was sent back in time. The secrecy was starting to grade away his happy thoughts.

"Back home?" Esor inquired, her voice a bit shaky as every move she made was being scrutinized by the man to her left, that Neville could not see. The fear and worry was starting to ware her down and she felt as if she was going to tell Neville everything in the next moment. But, Neville's voice soothed her thoughts and she remained slightly calm.

"I'm not from around here," Neville said.

The man cleared their throat next to Esor and she glanced over at him again. She took the hint and prodded with her quaky voice.

"Where are you from?"

"I-I.." Neville stuttered, but then took a calming breath and said "I'm from the future."

Surely it won't matter if I tell a painting. No, person.. She's a person, not just a painting.

"You're what?" Esor asked, trying her best to sound surprised at the news. She put her quill down on the desk and looked at him intently.

"I got sent back in time by someone who hates me," Neville told her in a flat tone.

"How-" Esor began to ask but stopped when she saw Madam Pomfrey walk in.

Madam Pomfrey walked up to Neville, who had turned around to see what Esor was looking at. She looked him over and noted that he was slightly bent forward, probably because it hurt to stand straight.

"How are you feeling, Mr...?" Madam Pomfrey waited for Neville to tell her his last name.

"Erm.." Neville was thinking fast - what do I say? He looked around the room for some help. He couldn't say Longbottom because that was his father's name and she'd surely remember it. The same with his mother's last name. A name popped into his head and he blurted it out. "Raymond. Neville Raymond."

Madam Pomfrey frowned in seeing that it took him so long to remember his own name.

"How's your head?" she inquired, sounding like she thought him crazy.

"It's fine," Neville replied shortly.

Now she thinks I'm a nutter. Great. That's just what I needed.

She didn't comment on his tone, but she took his unhurt arm and guided him back to his bed. He got under the coverings and laid his head back on the pillows.

"Now you rest, and don't you even think about leaving here again," Madam Pomfrey said sternly to him. At his puzzled look, she added, "I saw you run out of here earlier. Now rest."

The commanding tone let him know that he'd be a fool not to obey with her wishes. She left him laying there and walked back out of the hospital wing.

Esor began to sing again, and Neville drifted off into a restful sleep.

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After ten minutes, when she knew Neville was asleep, she stopped her singing and waited, fearful, for the man to speak. After a few moments, his voice rang in her ears and it made her shiver at it's coldness.

"He trusts you."

She didn't move a muscle, nor did she breath as the fear for her life filled her. (She might be a painting, but that doesn't mean that she can't feel things.) His voice came again.

"Keep talking to him. He'll tell you everything before long."

His voice rattled her, and she shuddered.

"Remember what I told you," the man spoke again with pleasure, "No ruining the little one's life."

He disappeared and she held her head in her hands. She then sobbed as if she had just seen her whole family die before her. Her body shacked as the tears fell from her eyes. She pressed her head harder into her hands, trying desperately to stop them, but it did not help. She just cried harder and harder.

Nothing is worse than the crying.


A/N#2: So, is Esor good or bad? What do you think? Thanks for reading.