Chapter 15

Revenge

"Well, well, well…if it isn't Prissy Perfect Potter to save the day for Gryffindor again." Harry groaned. He didn't want to face Malfoy now, but apparently he and Crabbe and Goyle had been waiting for him after the match.

Harry turned to look at them. "It wasn't me who won the game, it was Gryffindor," he sneered.

"Nobility won't get you out of this, Potter. Just because you got on Adrian Berkley's good side doesn't mean you rule the world."

"I didn't say anything about Berkley. Malfoy, I really don't want to fight you. Just get out of my way."

"Is wee little Potter scared?" Malfoy asked, adopting a baby voice. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered in appreciation.

"Leave him alone, Malfoy." Neville. Harry closed his eyes. He really didn't want Neville to get involved.

Malfoy looked like Christmas had come early. "And what are you going to do about it, Longbottom? Come after me?"

Harry looked to his right where Neville was standing. His hair was damp and tousled from just coming out of the showers. Standing right next to him, Harry noticed a huge difference in his stature and poise as well as his height: for once Neville Longbottom was standing tall, broad shoulders almost menacing—but what really was menacing was the look in Neville's eye. It wasn't a look of hatred, rather, a look of disgust. "No, Malfoy. I'm above that, unlike you. What I'll do is I'll tell you what it's like to grow up without parents. I'll tell you what it's like to come home knowing that you don't have a mum or dad to welcome you. I'll tell you what it's like to go to the hospital every chance you get and see your parents in a vegetative state where they don't know who they are or who you are or where they are or what they're doing. I'll tell you about the fear that you wake up with, knowing that Voldemort practically killed your parents and he could be after you next." Neville wasn't crying, yet his voice was so full of emotion that Harry felt a tug at his heartstrings. The expression on Neville's face hadn't even changed.

Malfoy smirked. "Your parents were meddlesome fools. They deserved what they got, maybe even more so than Potter's here." He looked at Harry with a sneer. "That's the only reason you're famous, Potter, is because you finally defeated the ancient killing curse, when really it was just your mum who protected you. You're not all that special, you know…"

"Move aside."

"Or what, Longbottom? You'll give me another lecture? I'm afraid I can already go to McGonagall for that, or maybe Binns would be better…no one really likes McGonagall all that much anyway."

"C'mon, Neville, we don't have to listen to this." The two tried to go around Malfoy and his cronies, but were intercepted.

"Going so soon? We were just starting with our little conversation, weren't we, boys?" Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles in an intimidating fashion.

"Step aside, Malfoy," Harry said.

"I'm afraid you'll have to fight your way past me, Potter. Like I said before we weren't done…" Malfoy never had a chance to finish his sentence, since Neville had punched him on his right cheekbone. He fell to the ground, clutching the right side of his face. Crabbe and Goyle had nothing to do but squat next to him and stare around dumbly.

"Like I said before, Malfoy, stop bothering Harry, or else you'll have me to deal with. Let's go, Harry."

Harry didn't know what to say. He followed Neville towards the castle and couldn't seem to find his voice until the halfway point. "Neville…how…how did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Punch Malfoy! I mean, two years ago…you never would have done something like that…"

"Yeah, well, anger builds up. I've been wanting to do that since first year." He couldn't help but smile. "Got him pretty good, didn't I?"

"Really good, that is." Harry smiled. "I don't think he'll be bothering you for quite some time."

"That'll be a nice change…for once I'll finally be in control of that codfish."

"Codfish?"

Neville blushed slightly as he let a shy smile emerge. "It's what my grandmother calls people like Malfoy. I guess I picked up on it over the years."

"Yeah. Well, do you suppose they have a party going in the common room yet?"

"Most likely."

"You'll be the life of the party you know. Nine goals in one game…that's quite an accomplishment."

"I suppose. I couldn't have done it without you, though, Harry."

"You're the one who practiced so hard."

"But you're the one who finally gave me a chance. No one else would have even believed I could do it considering my past klutziness."

"You're giving me way too much credit, Neville. You believed in yourself first and that's what counted."

Neville managed a small smile as they climbed the steps into the castle. "D'you think my…my dad would be proud of me right now?"

"More than anything. Have you—er—told him about getting on the Quidditch team or anything?"

"No, not yet. You saw how little he and Mum respond to that time at St. Mungo's two years ago."

"I know, but just tell him about it. I'm sure both he and your mum would love to hear what you've been up to."

"Oh, I don't know…my grandmother really doesn't understand whenever I try to talk to them. She wants to go visit the hospital, but all we do is sit and stare at each other all the time."

"Then go without your grandmother. Hey, listen, if you want—if you want I'll go with you. You know, to tell them just how good you are at Quidditch."

"Would you really, Harry?"

Harry really wasn't sure why he'd offered to interfere with Neville's business, but evidently it was well received. "Of course." He smiled at his teammate and friend.

"That would be great. I know! We could go there on our broomsticks right after classes get out for the holiday season. The train doesn't leave until the next morning anyway, so my grandmother would never even know I went there!"

Harry still had his doubts about volunteering to go with, but Neville was so adamant that he couldn't bring himself to say no. "That's a good idea. We'd be back before dark if everything worked out right."

"So you really mean it? You want to come with?"

"Of course!"

"Thanks a lot, mate. You have no idea how much this means to me." Neville's grin was so broad that Harry just had to smile back. By then they had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and were quickly ushered inside the common room where they were both guests of honor.

"Where did you two run off to?" Ron practically yelled in Harry's ear. "We were beginning to think you got lost."

"We ran into Malfoy." Hermione looked at Harry over Ron's shoulder and looked almost frightened. "Don't worry, Neville took care of him."

"Neville?"

"Socked him upside the head," Harry said proudly.

"That's wonderful!"

"Ron! It's against school rules!" Hermione hissed.

"Yeah, but Malfoy finally got what's been coming to him for the last seven years from Neville!" He glanced over at Neville Longbottom who was sitting rather uncomfortably in the middle of a giddy group of girls, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown among them.

"Oh, that was just an amazing performance today, Neville!" Parvati swooned.

"Yes, how did you do it?" Lavender joined in. Harry could tell that Neville was rather tense, but soon managed to relax in his chair as he recollected all events that had happened that day happily. For once the crowd was larger around Neville than it was around Harry after a Quidditch match.

"I guess Berkley's interest in you has worn off," Ron said as they watched Neville's posse grow even bigger.

"I don't mind," Harry said haphazardly as he grabbed a bottle of butterbeer and some fudge from Honeydukes and leaned back into his chair. "It's nice for a change not to have to worry about remembering every split second in a match and every little move I made."

"That was a rather spectacular catch, though," Ron said happily. "Berkley sure seemed to be impressed with it."

"Yeah, but I'm not expecting much since he has a lead at Beauxbatons for the same position." It was a partial lie. True, Berkley had said that he had a lead at Beauxbatons, but Harry was expecting a lot more than he wanted to admit since at the end of the match Berkley had said that there wasn't anyone like Harry and his performance was impeccable. Harry Potter was all but guaranteed a starting position on England's Quidditch team next year.

The trio enjoyed watching Neville try to remember every split second and every goal he had made. "And then I threw it back to Ginny…no, I didn't throw it to her, that was when I had to dodge the Bludger…and another player…wait, let me start over again! OK, so I rebounded the ball…"

Harry grinned. "He'll get used to it, believe me. Now, I think I'm going to head upstairs and get some of that Charms work done before we have to go eat."

"What?" Ron asked in shock. "Do mine ears deceive me? Dost thou say 'work' on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon?"

"I've really got a lot of work to do, Ron."

"That's what Sunday is for! And you still haven't recalled the exciting tale of every move you made out there on the pitch."

"Very funny, Ron." Harry stood up and walked away before anyone else could see him.

Harry fully intended to get a start on his Charms homework, but soon figured out the real reason why he had walked up to the dormitory was to be alone in order to think about Neville. What was the real reason behind him volunteering to go to St. Mungo's? The answer was so obvious that Harry couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before: he wanted Neville to get to know his parents, to really just sit down and talk to them because that was something Harry never had the chance to do with his parents. It may be too late for me to tell my dad all about my Quidditch matches, but it sure isn't too late for Neville Longbottom, Harry thought. Even though they probably wouldn't fully understand what he was saying, at least they would know that he cared enough to tell them about his life.

Voldemort had destroyed the Potter family, but Harry sure wasn't going to let him do the same to the Longbottoms. Content with his decision to help Neville, Harry dug the Charms book out of his bag and began to work feverishly. After all, the N.E.W.T. tests would be upon him before he knew it; passing enough of them meant an end to the Auror training was in sight.