A/N: This story was written for season two, round three of the International Wizarding Schools Championship Forum.

Words: 1994

School: Mahoutokoro

Theme: Spell Damage

Main Prompt: [Quote] "It's not whether you get knocked down, it's whether you get up." - V. Lombardi

Additional Prompt(s): [Action] Getting into a fight

Year: 6

Neville never thought he'd be running for his life from Death Eaters while dodging their curses.

Yes, his parents were attacked and tortured by Death Eaters when he was a baby. And sure, he'd joined Dumbledore's Army to learn defense—to learn to fight—but he'd honestly thought he'd be out of Hogwarts by then and definitely not in the position of having to run away.

Especially not from the three Death Eaters that had ruined his life by devastating his parents' minds.

Luna was running alongside him, the only person he hadn't lost in the confusion of falling prophecies and spells being flung at them from angry Death Eaters. He had no idea where Harry, Ron, Hermione, or Ginny were, or if they were injured or—

"Neville."

The aforementioned teen broke out of his thoughts and turned to look at the blonde as she said his name, curiosity at the back of his mind as to how she sounded so calm, even as they fled for their lives.

"Let's hide in one of those rooms we passed earlier," she continued. "Maybe the others will catch up."

Neville, who was starting to get tired out from all the running, could only nod as she led the way to one of the many doors they'd passed before entering the Hall of Prophecy. Luna quickly opened the door and hurried inside with Neville practically on her heels before he slammed it shut.

His brain made a note of the weird items scattered across the room, but he dismissed the observations quickly as he thought back to the situation he and his friends were in.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

They were just supposed to help Harry rescue Sirius and help him escape from the Ministry. Instead, they'd walked into a trap set by some of Voldemort's most lethal Death Eaters. It seemed as if Harry had infected them all with his bad luck to get into the most dangerous situations imaginable.

Neville didn't realize he had been pacing until Luna placed a hand on his shoulder to halt him. "Everything will be okay, Neville," she said, her eyes, for once, steady and without the faraway look she normally wore. "We'll be fine."

"Fine?" Neville repeated, his voice high-pitched. "We're trapped in the Department of Mysteries with Death Eaters on our tails, we have no idea where our friends are or if they're even still alive, and you say we're fine?"

Luna opened her mouth to respond, but her eyes darted behind him before they widened. "Look out!" she warned, shoving him to the side.

Neville didn't have time to question her as he landed off to the side—for a petite girl, she was quite strong—because right after she had shouted, another voice sounded in the room.

"Stupefy!" A red light collided with Luna's chest; the force of it lifted her off her feet, and she slammed into the far wall before she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Luna!" Neville exclaimed worriedly, but before he could get up to check on her, the sound of mad cackling made his head whip around to stare at the person who'd stunned his friend.

"You have got to be kidding me," Neville muttered as he hurried to his feet with his wand firmly gripped in his hands and pointed at the intruder.

"Oh, would you look at this!" Bellatrix Lestrange giggled, her wand pointed directly at Neville. "It's the baby Longbottom! My my, we haven't seen each other for so long! It's been, what, fourteen or so years, hasn't it?" she mocked.

Neville stiffened at the casual way she talked about that night.

Bellatrix noticed his reaction and grinned widely. "Aw, did I strike a nerve?" she asked with false sweetness.

"Y-You do not get to t-talk about that," Neville said, trying to sound braver than he was feeling, but couldn't stop the stutter that slipped out.

His response only made Bellatrix's grin grow bigger, a maniacal edge gleaming in her eyes. "Oh, look, the cub is trying to roar like a lion!" she cackled as she gestured at Neville with her wand. "It's not working in the slightest. Your parents were braver than you."

Something inside Neville snapped, and anger filled his being. His knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping his wand. "Stupefy!"

Bellatrix dodged neatly out of the way, and the spell hit the door behind her.

"Oh, so close!" she laughed in his face. However, in the next second, her smile disappeared and a glower took its place. "And yet," she added, the false cheer in her voice replaced with a hard tone that sent shivers down Neville's spine, "so far."

She lifted her wand.

"Crucio!"

Pain beyond anything Neville had ever felt engulfed his body. He barely registered the fact that he had dropped his wand or the fact that he fell to his knees as he screamed. White-hot fire raced throughout his body and it seemed to get hotter the longer time went on. He felt every single nerve in his body pulse with agony as he writhed on the ground and screamed his voice hoarse.

'Stop this!' Neville yelled within the privacy of his mind. 'Please, stop this! Make it stop!'

Almost as if answering his silent plea, Bellatrix finally ended the curse. The Longbottom heir lay on the floor as he gasped and his limbs twitched sporadically.

"Well, what do you know?" the deranged Lestrange questioned sarcastically. "You scream just like your father."

Pain still racked his body, but that comment sparked something inside Neville. He was at the same mercy as the woman who had tortured his parents, the same woman who'd driven them towards insanity. And now, she was torturing him.

She might drive him to the same end as his parents, but he wouldn't make it easy for her. He refused to just roll over. Not this time.

Especially not to Bellatrix Lestrange.

He shifted. The dull soreness in his body flared into an intense ache as he moved, but he grit his teeth and powered through it. He was able to move to his knees before Bellatrix spoke again.

"Oh?" she questioned, the false sweetness back in her tone. "Are you trying to get up? That's adorable!" she squealed. "Adorable, but, unfortunately for you, futile. Crucio!"

The pain came back with a vengeance, and Neville doubled over as his body became under siege once again by waves of agony, but he refused to scream again. He bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood, and he remained on his knees as he endured Bellatrix's curse.

It was over quicker than the first time.

"Why aren't you screaming?" Bellatrix demanded. Neville lifted his head. "You're supposed to scream!"

Neville ignored her comment and struggled to get to his feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" the deranged woman challenged. "I didn't give you permission to get up, blood traitor! Crucio!"

The force of the curse and the subsequent agonizing pain that followed forced Neville back to his knees, but he still didn't scream. He swallowed back the blood in his mouth as he bit down harder on his tongue and clenched his fists hard enough that his nails broke the skin on his palms. But he still didn't scream.

The pain was more intense that time, fueled by Bellatrix's anger at Neville's continued silence, and his body shook from the amount of pain he was put through.

And still, he didn't scream.

"Why!" Bellatrix screeched. "Why won't you scream! You're supposed to be screaming! Your mother and your father screamed, why won't you!"

Neville didn't answer at first since he was breathing harshly. His arms were twitching at random intervals, his hands stung from his nails digging in, his tongue throbbed from the many times he bit down, and the pain was thrumming throughout his body quite severely.

After clenching his jaw, he struggled to raise himself to his feet again. He did his best to ignore the pain that flared up rather intensely as he moved, and his body shook with the aftershocks of the Unforgivable Bellatrix had placed him under.

The woman herself didn't stop him from getting up, much to his surprise. When he finally made it to his feet, unsteady but standing, Neville raised his head to look her in the eyes.

Bellatrix was still pointing her wand at him, but her eyes were wide; it made her look even crazier. "Why?" she repeated almost petulantly. "Why won't you scream? That's the whole point! You're not even making a sound! Why won't you scream!"

Neville stared back at her, calm overtaking his body. His wand was on the floor; with his body still inflicted by pain, intensifying whenever he moved, there was no way he could fight back against her.

The least he could do was be brave as he faced her one last time.

"I won't scream," Neville answered her, his voice raspy from the first time he had yelled. He ignored the strain on his throat and continued to speak. "I won't scream, because I refuse to give you the satisfaction; a crazy bitch whose short leash is being held by her even crazier master who we all call Voldemort!"

Neville's voice had risen steadily as he continued to speak until he was shouting at the end of his tirade. He couldn't stop the flash of sick satisfaction that flowed through him as he observed Bellatrix's increasing anger.

"You," she hissed. "How dare you speak of My Lord in such a way! CRUCIO!"

This time, the anger behind her spell was enough to force Neville off his feet and onto his back as he writhed in pain. A tiny voice at the back of his mind asked, 'She's not mad at the insults aimed at her?'

Neville bit his tongue once more to prevent himself from screaming as he rode out the waves of agony that coursed through his body. His fists were clenched again and his eyes were shut tightly and waited for it to stop—if she ever planned on stopping.

After what seemed like forever, Bellatrix finally stopped the curse. Neville was left panting on the floor as his body still shook with the effects of the Unforgivable. As he sucked in a large gulp of air, he opened his eyes to see the Lestrange woman standing above him with her wand pointed directly at his face. "No one gets away with insulting My Lord," she snarled at him. "It's too bad you won't live beyond tonight. I would've enjoyed finding ways to make you scream."

Neville tensed, disregarded the pain that followed, and waited for her to deliver the final blow.

"Goodbye, Neville Longbottom," Bellatrix stated with all the finality of a death sentence. "Avada Ked-"

She suddenly gasped, cutting herself off. Neville watched as she stumbled back, clutching her left arm. "My Lord," he heard her say breathlessly.

She looked back down at Neville, a sneer on her features. "You got lucky this time, blood traitor. My Lord needs me," she snarled. She backed towards the door. "But know this, Longbottom; the next time we meet, only one of us will be alive at the end."

With that, she turned and fled the room, presumably on her way to wherever Voldemort was.

As soon as she left the room, the tension that Neville didn't know he had left his body, and he sagged onto the floor. His body twitched every couple of seconds as he lay there, and the amount of pain he was in made it hard for him to think. But unwittingly, Bellatrix's parting words floated to the forefront of his mind.

But know this, Longbottom; the next time we meet, only one of us will be alive at the end.

"Looking forward to it," Neville whispered to himself.

The pain became excruciating at that point, and Neville gave in to the temptation to pass out.