A/N: It has been way too long since I started this. But I am finally getting my act together. The next chapter is mostly written as well, so it won't be long before there is another update. This chapter has been through a lot. That was one of the main reasons I didn't write for the longest time. My ideas just stopped and I couldn't seem to write anything decent. But here this chapter is and I'm very proud of it. Thanks for the reviews of the prologue. Please tell me what you think. Even if it's just to tell me how much of a prat I am for taking so long. Opinions are always good!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!
Chapter 1: Assertion Gone Wrong
When he stepped into the main hall, Neville knew his grandmother must not be up yet. Everything was still dark, no lights were lit, and the mahogany walls of the hall looked as if they were looming ominously over him. He stopped at the base of the stairs and let out a long sigh. At least one thing was going well for him that morning. His grandmother couldn't yell at him for running late.
Neville stepped off the last stair and began to make his way towards the kitchen with his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his denims. His head hung down and a deep frown sat on his lips. Concentration filled his face and clouded the dark brown of his eyes as thoughts of the morning's events circled his mind.
She always has to nag about something, Neville thought as he walked, each one of his steps sounding on the wooden floor. Doesn't she see that I've had enough? A little groan erupted from the base of his throat and his head shot upwards.
But how was he going to tell his grandmother that he was tired of how she was always bearing down on him? Even he didn't know the answer. All he knew is that he'd have to do it soon, or all year long she would pester him. If it wasn't letters, it would be howlers. And he definitely didn't want those.
He sighed and continued to walk down the hall. He was going to have to do it. And although there was a part of him that was scarred and nervous, he was ready to let her know what was on his mind.
Neville neared the corner that led into kitchen, but just as he was about to enter he stopped and looked down the long shadowy hall. The dark walls looked as if they were tightening on him as his dim eyes shifted from side to side. His body had filled with a sudden coldness that sent a shudder up his spine. His breathing became hushed and the frown that was already on his lips deepened. For some reason, he was feeling uneasy as he looked down the hall towards the steps, but Neville couldn't fathom any idea as to why.
This is ridiculous! He thought, mentally scolding himself as his brow knitted in bewilderment. He straightened up his back and shook his head a couple of times before continuing into the kitchen. When he walked in, Neville ran a hand along the wall, switched on one of the lights, and seated himself at the circular breakfast table that was next to a large window. He leaned back in his seat and ran his hands down his face. He rubbed his eyes roughly to help get out some of the sleep that still lay in them, yawning loud and long as he did so.
I wonder how long she'll be, he thought, turning his head to the clock on the opposite wall. 7:30 a.m. Neville sighed. It was going to be a long morning. He wasn't due to leave on the train to Hogwarts until eleven.
After a few more moments of sitting in the kitchen, Neville finally heard some movement in the hall.
Oh no! Gran is awake. He could clearly hear her footsteps coming towards him. Any second, her round grumpy face would appear behind him and he would have to finally face her. But his grandmother's face did not turn the corner into the kitchen. He strained his ears to hear the footsteps that were so clear just a moment before, but Neville could not hear anything and a slight buzzing had started within his eardrums from the overuse.
That's strange, Neville thought, a look of confusion crossing his features. I swear I heard footsteps. Quickly, he got up from his chair and walked across the kitchen to the hallway. Light from the kitchen was now flooding it and he could clearly see its entire length.
There was no one in sight.
His brow knit and he looked down the hall in suspicion, eyes shifting and his mouth slightly open. He heard the thumps again, further down the hall by a small side table. Neville quickly shoved his hand inside his pocket in search for his wand and held it up in front of him in a defensive stance.
Maybe it's just Trevor, he thought, gulping down a hard lump that had formed in his throat. But Neville knew it wasn't Trevor. His pet toad had never made those kinds of noises any of the previous times he had gotten free. And Neville had made sure Trevor was safely upstairs in his cage before coming down.
He walked slowly, placing one foot softly in front of the other until he had reached the little table. Nothing seemed to be there either. The only thing he saw was a reflection of himself in the old iron wrought mirror that sat perfectly on wall above the table.
"You can be so silly sometimes, Neville," he whispered to himself, a smile playing on the corner of his lips as he placed his hands on the edge of the smooth wooden surface. A little laugh escaped his throat as he looked up at his face in the mirror. Although he was smiling slightly, his head hung tiredly and his eyes looked hazy and blank. For the second time that morning, he rubbed his eyes to try and further wake himself up. He again looked at his reflection, his vision somewhat blurred. But when his eyes flicked towards the image of his face in the mirror it wasn't the only thing he saw. Behind him, someone was grinning, an evil grin with dark eyes full of malice and black hair the colour of charcoal.
In fright, Neville suddenly jumped. His foot caught onto the edge of one of the table's short legs and he fell to the floor, dragging the table with him. It moved a few inches and shrieked as it was pulled against the hard floorboards. Neville cringed and shut his eyes tightly as the sound pierced his ears, worried that it would carry into the bedroom of his moody grandmother. He waited a few seconds to hear for any signs of disruptions on the upper floor, but when he heard nothing, Neville breathed a sigh of relief.
"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, shocked and a little scared as he lifted himself from the floor. He placed the side table back to where it was originally and breathed in deep. He looked at the mirror again, but did not see anything in the reflection that appeared odd. He only saw his shocked face that had suddenly gone pale, looking dazed back at him.
I swear I saw someone's face behind me in that mirror! Neville thought, his mouth hanging open slightly in disbelief. It looked like a woman's face and she looked like she was grinning. It was almost…familiar. Either I'm hallucinating or something wrong is happening here.
Neville looked behind him and again held his wand in defence.
"Lumos," he muttered, shedding more light on the hall to get a better look. His eyes rapidly searched the area behind him, but like he suspected, there was not a grinning face in sight. Neville's gaze shifted from the area near the table to down the hall to look for any indication of strange activity. Just as he stared fixedly down the hall, Neville heard a soft chuckle from behind his ear. It was a slow deep laugh and although it was barely audible, it sent shivers up his spine. All the hairs on Neville's neck had suddenly stood upright and his blood was begging to pound in his ears. A lump formed in his throat and his eyes flicked nervously back and forth.
"Who's there?" Neville whispered, his voice crackling and coming out a lot higher than he intended. He didn't expect to hear any response and was relieved to see that it looked like nothing or no one would. He blinked his eyes again and straightened his back, which had doubled over in his fright. Out of nervousness, he cleared his throat and tugged at his shirt. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to clam himself.
Nothing is happening, he thought, attempting at reassuring himself so he wasn't so stiff. You are just extremely tired. Neville blinked again at the long corridor that was still stretched before him. He wand was still alight, casting white beams onto its rigid walls.
It's nothing, Neville thought again, finally lowering his wand. But within seconds his eyes were wide and his ears pricked in alert yet again. The laugh sounded once more through the hall, this time much louder and more distinguishable.
"No!" he mouthed, unable to form words out of utter shock. He had suddenly realized where he had heard the laugh before.
"It…it can't…be!" Neville stuttered. His words were barely audible and his face had gone ghostly pale. His head slowly moved the length of the hall with his wand hanging limply at his side.
Something was definitely going on. He could not mistake that laugh. He had heard it many times in his nightmares, mocking him and shrieking at him. It was her, the one who had tortured his parents to insanity. Bellatrix Lestrange.
Suddenly his face became stern and anger filled his brown eyes. He turned his head to look in the direction of the laugh just in time to see the flip of a black cloak pass the staircase and head into one of the front rooms.
"Ugggghhh!" he yelled running at the cloak, each one of his steps making a resounding thump that echoed around him.
Gran with definitely hear this. But she is here and I have to stop her. Just as he reached the stairs and was about to enter the room where he had seen the black cloak go into, Neville skidded to a sudden halt and looked up at the face of the angry shaking form of his grandmother. His wand shone on her and the light made her eyes look as if they were burning with fury.
"Neville Longbottom!" she shrieked, her chin shaking with each booming syllable. "WHAT…do you think…you are doing? Waving your wand around like a mad man and making such a racket down the halls. Explain yourself this instant!"
"Gran!" Neville yelled almost panic stricken. "There is someone in the house! She went into the front sitting room. Just over there!" He pointed his hand madly at the front room that was only feet away. She shifted her eyes towards the direction he was pointing at and then looked back at him with an even fouler look than before. If Neville ever thought she couldn't get any worse, he was sadly proven wrong when the frown that graced her lips grew deeper and deeper.
'What is this nonsense?" Augusta Longbottom nearly spat, her voice bellowing from behind the fox-fur scarf that was already tightly wrapped around her neck. She stood on the last step of the staircase, and although Neville had grown considerably, she towered over him with no difficulty. "Someone in the house? Goodness gracious, there better not be or you will be in a great deal of trouble. What is this rambling on about a she?A girl in the house, Neville? What have a told you before about brining anybody to the—"
"No!" Neville cut in loudly. "You don't understand Gran! There is an impostor here. Just look, please. If I'm wrong you can…" his voice trailed off as his eyes shifted from the room where he knew she was to his grandmother's face. "…you can…make me clean out the entire attic when I get back for the Christmas holidays…without magic!" Augusta's eyes narrowed and she lifted her hand to the base of her chin.
"It is in dire need of a sweeping," she muttered grumpily, her forefinger stroking back and forth. "I could get you to look through—"
"Gran! Please!" Neville cut in again. "Look!" Begrudgingly, she stepped down from her perch and began to move towards the front sitting room, her green robes swaying as she her large bottom moved back and forth. When they reached it, Neville's heart began to pound.
This was it.
His Gran switched on the light to reveal a nicely organized sitting room, spotless of any dust and covered almost completely in paisley prints. But it was completely devoid of any impostor. Neville's face suddenly fell and he looked, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, at the completely empty room.
No! he thought, pulling his hand up to his forehead in shock. She was here. I saw her. I heard her laugh. How…how is this happening?
His grandmother's face held a small triumphant smile as she crossed her arms over her chest. " I guess you should bring a box of tissues with you when you come home. That dust is going to make you sneeze for an entire week. How absolutely terrible it will be." She gave a small chuckle and walked back into the hall, where she proceeded down to the kitchen. His eyes followed her as she left him standing alone in the silent sitting room.
That small comment had caused more damage then a yelling would have and his anger had suddenly started to rise speedily. His frowned deep and he looked sombrely once more at the room. Maybe he had only imagined that laugh and the face he was sure he had seen. It had seemed so real and he'd never been one to experience hallucinations. But then again, he was deathly tired. Maybe it was only a trick of his weary brain. And, after all, at times the mind can be more an enemy than anything else.
Neville turned off the light and followed his grandmother into the kitchen. She was already standing at the counter, starting to prepare breakfast. Neville walked to the chair he had occupied earlier and slumped onto it. Suddenly, a loud grumble came from the inside of his stomach and he realized how hungry he really was.
"Do control your bodily noises, Neville," his grandmother said from over her shoulder, making him blush a deep crimson. "No respectable girl will want to hear that when you get married." The flush of his cheeks only deepened and his eyes narrowed as he starred holes into her back.
"I'm only hungry," he whispered from behind clenched teeth. He suddenly stood up and walked towards the fridge where he pulled out the milk to pour himself a glass. Once he finished, he sat back in his chair. "And besides, who said anything about marriage. I'm only in sixth year."
"Yes, of course you are," she replied, still working on making a delectable breakfast of bangers and mash and fried toast. She sounded completely offhand, like she was talking about something as normal as the weather. Neville looked at her with eyebrows raised as he took a large gulp of his milk. "But if you don't meet a girl in school, how are you ever going to find one suitable. You can't expect to find one working as a Herbologist. I woman who prattles on about plants all day can hardly be called sane." Neville's eyes bulged and he struggled to swallow the milk that was in his mouth.
"What?" he sputtered between loud hacking coughs.
"Please don't choke on your milk Neville dear," Augusta said, sighing as she hurried back and forth, wand in hand, between several pans of cooking food. "I don't want another incident like your seventh birthday. I told your Uncle that the piece of cake he gave you was too big. Of course, he said you should handle your cake like a man. I can never understand that man!"
Neville still looked at his grandmother in bewilderment from her previous comment. "Sane? A girl who talks about plants isn't sane?"
"I already finished saying that," his Gran answered, starting to finish off making everything.
"Gran, that's a right nasty thing to say!" he said, finally getting his bearings back. "I happen to really enjoy magical plants. And honestly, I'd prefer any girl I do like to have the same interest!"
"I will say what I like," Augusta said, putting the food onto plates and bringing them to the table. "Now eat your breakfast. I don't want you going on that train without food in your belly because I won't be giving you any money for those sweets they sell. Your teeth will be a ruin and you are starting to really thin out. I don't want a pumpkin for a grandson and I'm sure your future-wife won't want that either." Neville sighed and rolled his eyes as he slumped down on one elbow and began to eat his bangers and mash.
Breakfast passed in near silence. Only a few "pass the salt," comments were passed between Neville and his grandmother and he was happy that nothing else did. He was sure that if she uttered another word about some future wife or anything else for that matter, he would explode. When he was sure they were both finished, he quickly stood up and brought their dishes to the counter, a scowl set deep on his face.
"Scourgify," Neville's grandmother muttered, pointing her long thin wand at the dirty plates and cups. Immediately, everything was stripped of its grime and grease and the kitchen was left in a sparkling sheen.
"Now Neville, I want you to go back to your room and get everything, and I mean everything, that you need for school," she said, looking at Neville with a stern eye and hands placed commandingly on her hips. Neville occupied himself with putting all the dishes away in their appropriate cupboards, his face rather blank. "Books, quills, robes, socks, knickers, and anything else. I was completely shocked to see that you had left half of your knickers underneath your bed last year. I'm surprised you survived a week. That will not happen this year, of course."
"I have everything I need already in my trunk," he replied, turning towards her.
"Well, I want you to look again," she said, her voice coming out in a sharp command. Her eyes had started to narrow again, and Neville could see her annoyance building. "You have a dreadful memory and I'm sure there is something you stuffed into a corner and have forgotten about."
"No. I'm already packed." Neville looked up at her, defiance clearly written on his face.
This was it. He had had enough. The whole morning had been a time in which she could badger him incessantly about who knows what. But he couldn't handle it any longer. This was it.
"I want you to look again!" she said once more, this time slower and louder, stressing each word.
"No!" he bellowed, his brow knitting in anger and his arms crossing defensively over his chest. "I will not!"
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare yell at me, Neville Longbottom!" his grandmother yelled back at him, her eyes filling with rage. He had never once stood up to her like that and she was not going to take any talking back lightly. "What in this world has come over you?"
"Arrggg!" Neville groaned, roughly pulling his arms down to his sides. He turned from her and began to pace back and forth in a small line. "You are! You won't leave me alone! You always nag on about something! If it isn't my forgetfulness, it's about schoolwork, or my OWLS. And now you are going on about a future wife? Can't you ever leave me alone? I can think for myself, in case you are too thick to notice. Please. Just stop it!" He suddenly stood still in front of his grandmother. But suddenly, he regretted his decision as he saw that her face was holding one of the largest scowls he had ever seen. She glared down at him and seemed to grow taller as her anger grew with every passing second.
"Neville Longbottom!" his Gran shrieked, her voice hitting notes never before thought of. Her voice was so loud that the lamp on the ceiling began to shake precariously from the noise. "Go up to your room this instant! I will not have my judgement challenged! You will search your room for anything else for school and then you will stay there until I see it fit for you to leave! Don't you ever, EVER, talk like that to me again, or I shall box your ears…twelve times over!" Neville's eyes grew larger than they ever had before. His face, that was once full of anger, was now shocked and frightened. What had he done? He had made his Gran incredibly angry.
"Do you understand me?" He feebly shook his head in the affirmative. She pointed a trembling finger in the direction of hall and squeezed her lips tightly together. The skin around them grew so white he was sure they would never hold any colour again. "Now go!" Neville quickly scampered out of the kitchen and ran up the hall, thumping in a loud rhythm.
Oh no! he thought once he had reached his room and shut the door, rather loudly. He leaned his back up against the hard wood and sank to the floor. She is going to be deathly angry the rest of the morning. What have I done? He let out a long lingering breath and sunk his head into his knees.
Whatever he had done, it was already finished with. Now he'd have to deal with the consequences and see what would result when the full weight of his actions sunk in.
This is going to be a rather long morning.
ioioioioi
A dark cloak whisked swiftly through the opening in a black iron gate that sat almost pompously at the base of a large stately manor. As the figure passed the gate, a single pale hand came from within the black fabric and dragged against the cold metal bars. The hand looked delicate and soft, but it had seen much and it was too weathered to ever be called gentle.
The manor was made out of old stone that glimmered emerald green when the sun shone down on it. It was dotted with large carvings of fierce gargoyles and other dark and frightening creatures. Many a person say that a family's house reflects who they are. This was very much true for this particular manor, for the Malfoys were anything but pleasant.
The cloaked figure continued toward the house along a grey stone path that was flanked on either side by lush magnificent gardens. Each one was filled with filled extraordinary plants that only added to the mysterious appearance of the house. At the manors front was a large black entrance. The person ran up the steps surrounding the entrance, the cloak flying up behind it in a trail making the figure appear like an unearthly apparition. The large door creaked eerily as the figure passes through it, revealing a dark foyer that was just as gloomy and ominous as the house outside. It was circular and large and the ceiling curved up into an intricately carved dome. The dark walls were decorated with long velvet green curtains that flowed in-between the doorways to other rooms. In the very centre of the foyer was a grand staircase that led up to a landing that overlooked the entrance room.
Once inside, the figure carefully lowered it's hood and untied the string holding the cloak to it. The cloak fell gently to the ground and revealed dark purple robes hugging to a slim body, intricately woven and flowing down to the floor in smooth waves. The figure appeared to be a woman with straight black hair that shone menacingly in the cool light and fell rigidly around her angular face. Her shadowy forest green eyes were set in deep and her stark mouth was apple red. She was very stunning but it was obvious that she had seen many harsh years and her beauty was starting to wither away.
"Sister? Is that you?" A high flowing voice called from above the women. Her eyes shifted to the direction that the voice came from and looked up at the second floor landing.
"Yes, it is I," she replied. Her voice was stern and low and less sweet sounding than the other voice had been. Moments after she answered the call, another women came out and stood on the landing, placing her hands lightly on the cold black railing. This woman was very different from the one standing in the foyer. She appeared to be a lot shorter and her hair was longer and a bright platinum blond. Her eyes were blue, the colour of the ocean on a bright summer's day, and her face was smoother and more attractive. Her nose was very sharp and the only thing that resembled her sister on her otherwise soft features. A frown graced her pink lips and her arms were crossed over the steely grey robes she wore.
"Where have you been?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.
"Out," the other replied, lifting her hands up to smoothen out her hair that had been disturbed by the hood.
"Oh, don't give me that Bella," the blond women huffed, pursing her lips in slight annoyance. "Tell me. If it's important you know I must be acquainted with it."
"It was nothing to be concerned about, Narcissa. Just a little bit of unfinished business finally starting to be brought to a grim end." Bella looked up at Narcissa with a hungry look in her eyes. She was excited about what this business was and she was itching to continue it.
"Why are you doing this, Bellatrix?" She asked almost in a whiney tone. Bellatrix moved across the marble floor and began climbing up the green-carpeted stairs. "I mean, going to that boy's house. Of all the things you could have done to get yourself exposed!" Bella was only half way up when her sister said this. Suddenly, she stopped and placed her hand on the railing.
"How did you know where I went?" She asked, raising one perfectly black eyebrow. Her lips tightened as she looked up at Narcissa, whose face had gone pale when she realized what she had just said. "Were you watching me, dear sister?"
"N-no," Narcissa stuttered, uncrossing one of her arms and placing it on her chest. "Of course not." Even to her, Bellatrix could be extremely frightening, especially when she gave that cold stern glare.
"Yes. Yes you were," she replied, moving further up the steps. "How?" Narcissa twisted her hands nervously within each other.
"It was the…uh…the hand mirror in my boudoir. It lets me see my family. I use it mainly to make sure Draco isn't doing anything too troublesome." Bellatrix smiled at the frankness of her sister. Narcissa just looked down at her, unable to decide if she was angry or not.
"Oh, Bella! You nearly scarred that boy to death!" She suddenly yelled out. Bella's grin widened and her eyes began to gleam nastily. She quickly ran up the last few steps in euphoria.
"And to death I want him!"
"Oooooo!" Narcissa cooed happily, clapping her hands gleefully in the air. A wide smile had overcome her previous gloomy look and her eyes were becoming just as bright as her sister's. Death was but a ferocious game to them. "Oh, you naughty girl! What are you up to this time?"
"Nothing too grand. Just a little bit of fun!' Bellatrix took one of her sister's arm in her own and steered her towards the hall that led away from the steps. The hall was dark, just like everything else in the house. The walls were covered in thick wallpaper and large paintings of Malfoy ancestors were hung on them.
"Isn't he the son of Alice and Frank Longbottom?" Narcissa asked as they continued in the general direction of her boudoir. Bellatrix grinned once more and turned her head to Narcissa.
'Spitting image, isn't he?" Bella laughed.
Suddenly, her eyes became distant and her face fell. Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. "I can't wait to see the look in his eyes when I finally send rushing pain through his feeble little body." She said her last three words slowly, stressing each one.
How she could not wait until the day when she would finally see that spark of life leave his eyes. She would revel in the coldness that came from his lifeless body and laugh when he fell limp to the ground. How she wished the day would come when the world would finally see the full power of Bellatrix Lestrange. Until then she would have to satisfy herself with planning the death of one schoolboy. Neville Longbottom would see happiness, only to be followed by pain.
"My, my," her sister said, raising her eyebrows at his last comment. " You are a mischievous person! Just don't get too carried away. We don't want to jeopardize any of the Dark Lord's plans." Narcissa has suddenly become very serious. If Bella did anything to upset Lord Voldemort, she would pay dearly for it. And even though she swore allegiance to him, Narcissa didn't want to see any of her family hurt.
"Oh I won't!" Bella replied, tightening her grip on her sister. She gave her a small smile before continuing. "This is a pet project; something entirely dispensable." Bellatrix's smile grew into a wide grin and before long she was shrieking her low deep laugh into the hall. Narcissa began to laugh as well, creating a raucous roar that carried through the house.
And I know exactly who is going to help me, Bella thought as they turned into Narcissa's boudoir. Yes, I know exactly.
A/N: Okay, that was long and wholesome. Whatever! So how do you think Gran Longbottom was? Did I write her okay? Please tell me, because that way I can improve. Thanks a billion!