Title: Signore Delle Ombre
Author: He'sDeadJim
Summary: The Summer before sixth year, Harry finds himself abandoned by those that call themselves the light. Sent to Azkaban for a crime he did not commit, he is forced to explore his growing and unusual powers, make new alliances, and form a new inner circle with those whose loyalties did not waver- although they are few, far between, and those that Harry would not have turned to before. Let the Battle Begin.
Character Types: Betrayed! Superpowered! Harry, Evil! Dumbledore, Stupid! Blind! Order of the Chicken, various others you will have to find throughout
SHIPs: TBD, most likely no slash
Disclaimer: (This applies to the first chapter, too) I do not own Harry Potter. If you think I do or might, then you are not only severly mistaken, but also, most likely, just a wee bit odd. There is no chance of me ever owning any of the rights, and I wouldn't want them, anyway, because Sirius is dead, Snape is mean, Neville is a wimp, and Draco is turning evil.
Fighting because we're so close
There are times we punish those who we need the most
Though we can't wait for a savior
Only got ourselves to blame for this behavior
-Duran Duran, 'What Happens Tomorrow'
Chapter Two: Remembering a Yesterday
Neville Longbottom found his sleep disturbed by the bright glare of midday sunlight streaming through his window. With a groan, he rolled out of bed and staggered towards his door. He felt like someone had just slammed a muggle baseball bat against his head. Curiously enough, he couldn't remember what exactly he had been doing yesterday.
"Gran?" He called, looking down the steps, before remembering that he should probably get dressed before he headed downstairs. He looked down and froze. He was already dressed. For the first time in his life, real fear seeped into his brain- not the half angry, half ashamed fear of humiliation he normally felt, but the fear that something was not right in the world, and he was part of it.
"Gran?" He called louder, genuinely worried now.
No response. He stumbled over his feet as he raced down the stairs, barely catching himself as he reached the bottom, and frantically burst into the kitchen, hoping his Gran had simply not heard him over the noise of cooking.
Unfortunately, luck wasn't on his side. The only other living being in the kitchen besides Neville was a Daily Prophet owl, waiting patiently to get paid. With a frown, he pulled out a sickle and gave it to the bird, taking the paper absently as the owl took flight again and left through the open window.
There were no signs of attack, and his Gran didn't normally leave without telling him, so where could she…his eyes glanced down impulsively at the paper's headline, and he stepped back a little, stunned. 'Boy-Who-Lived Kills 3 Muggles; Denounced By Colleagues As Too Deep Into the Dark Arts; "'He fancied Himself the Next Dark Lord'", Says One Former Friend.', the newspaper screamed.
Neville found himself temporarily incapable of moving as a deluge of memories suddenly rushed upon him following the tide of extreme shock and anger he felt at those who had betrayed Harry.
Neville and his Gran were just about to sit down to dinner when a pounding at the door distracted them. His Gran went to answer to door at once, vulture on her hat bobbing oddly as she did so.
"Albus!" She exclaimed, surprised. "Do come in."
"No time, I fear." The Headmaster of Hogwarts said, surprisingly grave. "If you and young Neville could come- I'm afraid I've had to call an emergency meeting of the Old Crowd."
"The Old Crowd?" His Gran remarked, clearly surprised. "Then why the need for Neville?"
"Something… unexpected has come up." The Headmaster said, refusing to elaborate, instead informing them that the meeting would be in twenty minutes at Hogwarts.
Neville frowned, confused. "What Old Crowd? A Meeting? What could it possibly be for?" He asked his Grandmother, but received no more than the frustrating 'you'll see'.
Gran rapidly wrapped dinner up, placing several preservation and heating charms on the meal to ensure that it would still be good later. She silently handed a pinch of Floo Powder over to her curious Grandson, then marched over to the fireplace.
She threw her handful into the fire, waited until they turned green, then stepped in and called out "Hogwarts, Headmaster's office!"
Neville followed cautiously, still wondering what on earth this meeting could be about. He could only hope it wasn't bad news.
Anger surged in every cell of Neville. How could they? He thought. How dare they? Without further thought or consideration, he made to grab some Floo Powder and rush to Hogwarts. But then his hand faltered, and he dropped the powder back in. If I go, they'll just do it again… he mused.
And Neville Longbottom was not going to let that happen.
"Quiet!" Albus Dumbledore cried with surprising vigor for a man of over a hundred years- at least, that was his rumored age.
"Welcome, welcome all. I'm sure some of you are quite aware of what type of meeting you are attending at this moment, but for those newcomers, I would like to welcome you to a vital meeting of the Order of the Phoenix."
Neville glanced around him. Some people seemed more surprised than others did. While Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger sat smugly, smirking knowingly at those who, like Neville, had never been to a meeting of the Order before, others like Luna Lovegood glanced nervously down the table, obviously wondering what this could be about.
"I'm sure that our normal members, as well as those who, before this night, were not acquainted with the Order of the Phoenix, are wondering why we would choose to bring in those who are not sworn to secrecy." Many people nodded in agreement with his statement.
"However," Dumbledore said, continuing. "I'm afraid we'll have to wait until the last of our group manage to straggle in."
Neville flushed as he heard Ron whisper to Hermione, "It's pretty bad when you're later than Exploding Cauldron Longbottom."
"Don't mind them." A young woman with pink hair remarked. "Snape is enough to make anyone blow up their cauldrons. Except maybe for snobby know-it-alls and their wannabe boyfriends."
Neville sniggered quietly, and she smiled cheerfully back at him, wrinkling her nose. Neville yelped softly as her nose swiftly changed to a pig's snout and back.
"My name's Tonks. Nymphadora Tonks, if you want to get technical and all, but I would rather prefer it if you would just call me Tonks."
"Hi, Tonks." Neville said, hesitantly returning her eager grin. "I'm…"
"Neville, Neville Longbottom." At Neville's surprised look, she smiled and explained, "You might not be part of the Order, but the old man up there likes us to know everyone who's at Hogwarts at this time. Nice to meet you, Neville."
"Happen to know what this is about… Tonks?"
Tonks was obviously a very cheerful person, as she smiled slightly at Neville's hesitation over using her last name instead of her first.
"Nah." She said, shaking her head for emphasis. "No idea whatsoever. All I know is that there was some major activity over at Auror Headquarters today, so major only Senior Executives got involved, really, and that those two," she jerked her head towards the smirking Ron and smug Hermione, "were called in for questioning for some time."
"I take it you're not a big Hermione and Ron fan, then?" Neville asked.
"Not at all." Tonks stated, suddenly serious. "I put up with them because, well, they're Harry's friends, and I think Harry's a cool kid- actually think he'd make a better leader than Dumbledore, you know, but don't tell the old fool I said that."
Neville nodded as she put into words what he had been feeling for several years now. "I agree. Harry- he's a natural leader, and pretty smart, too, if he puts his mind to it. Ron though, and Hermione, well, they always seem to leech off his fame, hang onto his coattails so to speak."
Tonks cocked an eyebrow, obviously wanted more of an explanation. So Neville gave her one- the one he'd been mulling over for quite some time.
"Ron's not very bright- I mean, sure, he's a brilliant chess player and all, but for classes, he's average, or slightly below. And as for Hermione, she's book smart- hell, she's memorized all of Hogwarts, A History with no problem, at all! But she's not practical smart."
"What do you mean, not practical smart?" Tonks said, frowning.
"Well, my Gran's got some inside people among the OWL examiners, so she was able to get my OWL scores delivered already."
"What?" Tonks exclaimed, causing several people to look over curiously until she shook her head and turned back to Neville, hissing in a fierce whisper, "But no one else will get theirs until almost mid-August!"
"Yeah, well…" Neville shrugged. "Anyway, miraculously enough, I'm one of the top ten at Hogwarts."
"Congrats!" Tonks said. "Good on you!"
Neville smiled happily. "Thanks. But, for the top ten, you know, they send a list with all the other ten in the class by rank. Hermione's second."
"Then who got first?"
"Harry."
Neville was at a lost with what to do. He knew, from his recovered memories, that he had been one of a few subjected to an obliviate- although he wasn't sure how he had survived it. What he did know, however, was that his green robe wearing Gran had sanctioned it.
Further more, he knew that said Gran would be returning from Order business any minute now, and that if he showed signs of his restored memory, they would not be so gentle this time 'round, trying to suppress the memories.
So he ran back up to his room, grabbed some homework, and began to spread it around so it would appear he had been working diligently on it since he had gotten up.
Downstairs, he could hear the key turning in the lock.
"Attention, everyone!" Dumbledore called. "Now that everyone is here, we can get down to business!"
Neville looked around, searching for new faces, and found them in the Weasley twins, Fred and George, who looked like they had just been dragged out of bed.
"I have a very grave matter to discuss with you all." The Leader of the Order of the Phoenix proclaimed. "In tomorrow's newspapers, you will find some news that might be… disturbing to a few. Since the papers will not be given all the details, to withhold any widespread fear or panic that might result, I have called you all here to tell you the real facts behind this story, so that you may know them and give the public assurances. Everyone here, in some way or another, knows Harry Potter, isn't that right?"
"What the hell?" Tonks murmured to herself. "Why does knowing Harry call for an emergency meeting?"
The Headmaster took a deep breath. "Yesterday he was arrested for the torture and eventual murder of his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin, and was shipped off to Azkaban last night to serve a life sentence."
A murmur of disbelief ran through those assembled. One, whom Neville recognized as Professor Lupin from third year, stood up, frowning.
"Do you have proof, Albus? I find it hard to believe Harry would do anything of this nature." Others nodded, too, and the werewolf continued. "Did you question him under a truth spell or potion? What evidence is there, really?"
"Mr. Potter, when questioned under both truth spell and potion, admitted to the crime." Neville frowned disbelievingly. Beside him, Tonks was muttering curse word after curse word under her breath. "Many have suspected that he was going dark for some time, but we tried to stay with him in hopes that he would soothe our fears and prove them unfounded. Sadly, this is not so, and today I blame myself for the murders of three innocent muggles." The Headmaster's expression was grave and solemn.
People around the table began to nod their heads, taking his words as truth. The Headmaster gestured for Hermione and Ron to stand up. The redhead spoke first, stating that Potter had become more and more interested and immersed in the Dark Arts over the years, gradually slipping away from both Gryffindors until his frustration and anger at both the muggle and wizard world had come to a peak in the Department of Ministries.
Hermione added to his statement. "Anyone could have told you Potter hated his relatives. This was just a cauldron waiting to boil. By the time he visited us at the Burrow at the beginning of the summer, he wasn't the same person we had met at the start of First Year. He didn't even write us very many letters once he left to go back to his family. Obviously, he had been planning something like this for quite sometime."
That's not true! Neville wanted to scream. By this time, he was fuming. Harry had written to people, including Neville, discussing anything and everything from homework to the future. Harry was too good, too kind to ever do something like that to anyone- except perhaps Voldemort. Neville remembered a letter Harry had sent him a few weeks back, about how Harry wasn't sure he wanted to become a murderer, even to save the Wizarding World.
There were few who would listen to him, though, Neville soon realized. Albus Dumbledore was, after all, the Leader of the Light, the person who had stepped up to the plate and had been the one to defeat the last Dark Lord, Grindelwald. It also helped that he had been the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and before that, beloved Transfiguration Professor, for quite a long time- so long, indeed, that everyone in the Order of Phoenix considered this man a kindly old adoptive grandfather to them, Neville's Gran included.
And truth spells and potions- Neville couldn't think of anything that could counteract either of them, let alone both.
That didn't mean that there wasn't something out there. He refused to believe Harry was guilty.
"Neville dear?" His Gran called up, as she came in the door.
"Up here, Gran." He called, forcing a look of concentration onto his face. He heard his Gran close the front door and slowly walk up the steps.
He focused all his anger and rage directly at the piece of parchment, determined not to let his façade slip in front of one who he was now forced to consider an enemy. I am Neville Longbottom. He chanted mentally to himself. I am about to be a sixth year Gryffindor. I am a dunce at Potions. Potions- Professor Snape! Wheels in his head began to turn.
"What are you working on, dear?" Dear? Neville snarled to himself as he turned in his seat to see his Gran in the doorway to his room.
"Potions homework, Gran. Only a month until school starts again. It's hard to believe I actually got an 'O' on my OWL, because this stuff is way hard!" He managed in a cheerful voice, forcing a happy-go-lucky smile.
"Oh, you poor dear." His Gran said, seemingly sympathetic. Here we go with the 'dear' again… he mentally rolled his eyes. Where was the 'dear' when the old biddy allowed Dumbledork to obliviate me?
"Perhaps you could help me?" Neville asked, adding a note of helplessness and pleading to his voice. He almost smiled with pride at how good his acting skills had become of late.
"Oh, no!" She said hastily, backing out of the room slightly.
Hook, line, sinker. Neville thought. He knew well that she hated Potions. I thank you for imparting that knowledge on me, for you have done nothing else to be thanked for.
"Errr… what I mean," She said hastily, patting imaginary strands of hair back into place on her head. "is that perhaps you should go talk to your Professor… he's the Potion Master, after all…" Neville resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Barely.
And that's a wrap, folks.
It was time for everyone to begin remembering yesterday.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I felt so special, seeing them there… please review this chapter too!