Chapter nine: Neville Fell

Fred turned around first, his eyes widening and his hands slapping at George to get his attention. George and Hermione turned next, shortly before the rest of us. There stood a large mass with three heads, towering over us as each head growled a different timbre. I don't remember who it was that opened the door again, but someone threw it open and Fred grabbed mine and Neville's arms while George grabbed Harry and Hermione. As we left out into the corridor again, the thing snapped at us; heads coming closer with their drooling mouth and horrid breath.

"What is it?" Neville asked, his voice shaky and shrill from the scream he let out at seeing it.

"I'm not an expert," Harry said, "but I think it was a three headed dog."

"Cerberus," George answered at the same time as Hermione. They glanced at each other for a moment and George continued, "Our brother, Charlie, is all about animals. He works on a dragon preservation in Romania."

We could still hear the growling through the heavy door, a chain clinking, and scratches against stone; and from behind us now came the huffing and puffing of the caretaker as he came up the stairs after us. It was dark, aside from the two torches that didn't quite reach where we stood in the shadow of both, and the lantern swinging at Filch's side. And though we couldn't make out the words he snarled under his breath, they didn't sound pleasant like the ramblings of someone who might be reasonable upon finding six students out of the dorms after curfew and in a forbidden part of the castle. George and Fred nodded to each other, and I heard their combined thought as they spoke quickly and quietly.

"You three go down that way," George told Hermione. "There's a secret corridor behind a portrait of Andros the Invincible, it let's out near the Charms classroom."

"We'll give you a head start," Fred whispered, pushing us towards the corridor to the right. Just as we were around the corner, Fred and George were bathed in the dim gold of Filch's lantern. They grinned at each other and began running in the other direction, singing loudly the school song to the tune of 'God Save the Queen'.

"You're still hesitating," he accused from four feet away, his offensive stance seeming as comfortable and familiar to him as breathing might be to others. As scouring bookshelves was to Hermione, or potting various plants to Neville. "You can't second guess yourself, or you'll be opening the door."

"I'm only using it to stay out of other people's minds, not keep out an expert Legilimens," I argued, catching my breath and waving off the sleepy Rosabelle who lifted her head to see that I was alright.

He opened his shield and pushed something through. If you learn to keep me out, you can most certainly stay out of others' minds. Occlumency isn't a pick-and-choose skill. Aloud he added, "You learn it, you learn all of it, or you'll retain nothing."

I had kept my promise to both Professor Snape and Meredith about practicing. I'd practiced every night before bed, I'd read Hermione's book on mental magic, and I wasn't any better. Though every session Professor Snape swore I was improving, if only marginally.

"I don't understand," I told him, barely keeping the tired whine out of my voice. "I've done everything else you've said. What aren't I getting?"

"Don't focus so much on the repetition, and instead build your walls." He considered me for a moment and tightened his already strict stance. "Stand up straight."

I did so.

"And think of home," he said next in a faraway voice. "Bring it up in your mind as though you were standing in front of it. Is it late at night? Or perhaps mid afternoon?"

I smiled, thinking of our cottage. "It's dusk."

I could imagine Meredith at the back door, calling my and Harry's names to come in and wash up for supper. I could smell the sweet scent of the garden and the intangible perfume of the setting sun. Whether it was from being homesick after so long without seeing her or my imagination being better than usual, I couldn't tell, but I could feel the adrenaline course through me from the day's adventure.

"Do you see the sun," he whispered, perhaps seeing what my mind was conjuring from memory. "Do you see it setting over the roof or on the horizon? The purple streaks across the sky?"

"Yes," I answered. Our house faced east, so that every morning the outreaching sun woke me as it came up, and every evening as I came home from the park or Meredith and I taking one of our walks, the sun set behind us- soon after pouring stars in the sky over us the way Meredith poured lemonade.

I heard him shift, but my eyes were closed and watching her cook. In my mind, she was happy and dancing as she pulled milk from the ice box or put a meat pie in the oven. Meredith always danced when she was happy.

"Well done," he said. "Now, every child knows where the best hiding places are in their house. I would assume you are no different."

I nodded, thinking about Christmas gift I'd once hidden in the drain pipe outside.

"Hide your thoughts. Divide the generic thoughts in bigger hiding spots, and place your important ones in nooks or crannies. Places that a stranger would never think to look."

The drain pipe was perfect; elsewhere maybe in between couch cushions, in the freezer, behind my bureau, or in the cookie jar where Meredith stashed our emergency money. Professor Snape was closer- I could smell the spice and faint hint of mold- but I didn't leave the cottage.

"Now," he said, voice not so soft. "Lock the door."

The comment caught me off guard and my eyes flew open as Mental Me slammed the front door and threw the dead bolt. Professor Snape muttered "Legilimens" and for a moment... nothing. I could feel him there, maybe in the yard pounding on the door and demanding entrance like a wolf in a fairy tale, but he didn't enter. Then, I lost hold and found myself at a picnic Meredith and I went on for my eighth birthday.

When we were once again in the classroom, I had to lean on a desk to keep upright- the world seeming to spin. Professor Snape looked pleased. "Well done! Very well done! A few more times and you'll be as good as I'd risk you being until your magic matures."

"Can't we quit for the night," I asked, though it turned into more of a beg. We'd been at it for almost three hours and my head felt as though it was going to split open.

He looked like he might say no, but his countenance softened the way it only did when we were alone, and rarely did he do it when he thought I could see. He sighed softly and almost smiled. "I suppose we could call it a night. You've done well. Go back to your tower and rest."

I nodded, turning towards the door before he stopped me.

"Really," he said with something of a real smile, "You did excellent. Far better than I did at this point in my own lessons, and I was twice your age. You may tell your Meredith that she has cause to be proud."

The first time Miss Elora invited the four of us for tea, it came in a small ivory colored envelope with careful script written in Oxford blue ink the day the notice was put up for flying lessons. None of us were terribly optimistic, though Harry was at the same time excited.

"I'll probably just make a fool of myself in front of Malfoy," he sighed heavily.

"You'll do no such thing," Miss Elora said, pouring tea into delicate cups of fine china and smiling at Rosabelle weaving between her legs. "I'm positive you'll do just fine. Why, James was one of the best fliers in our year. He was a Chaser, and Captain in our final year."

Harry perked up. "Really? What about my mum?"

She smiled at the memory. "Lily mastered anything she put her mind to, but there were three things she couldn't do no matter how hard she tried; cook anything beyond bangers and mash, say no to James, and fly. And no matter how hard he tried, James couldn't get her on a broom."

Her mind opened, the way it did whenever Harry's parents were topic of conversation, and she was remembering James on a broom with his hair artfully tousled, and Lily putting out a fire on the stove top. She thought of both fondly, with only the hint of sorrow.

"It's safe, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "Flying? I mean, there are precautions?"

"Well, it's possible to fall off if you aren't careful," Miss Elora said. "But here, there are always teachers and staff supervising. Madame Hooch is perfectly capable of handling anything. And of course, the headmaster is usually there at games."

Hermione didn't look reassured. Upon seeing this, Miss Elora added, "If you're nervous, there are books in the library. And there's an open invitation to learn on your own using school brooms so long as there is an adult present. Perhaps you could ask the older students? Say, the Weasley twins?"

They hadn't come to tea with us, having detention with Filch for our nighttime debacle with the three headed thing. We all felt somewhat guilty about it, but they waved off any apologies saying they were the ones to get us into it.

Miss Elora handed each of us our tea, with a bowl of milk for Rosa, and we each took a sip. Despite her having just brewed it, it was the perfect temperature for sipping, and was the single best cup of tea any of us had ever had. Hermione even went so far as to ask what kind of tea she used. Miss Elora beamed, her smile brightening the room that served as her office.

"I make it myself, but it's different every time so I can never guarantee whether it will be worth drinking. I'm so glad it's a good batch today." She sat down with her own cup, perched on the edge of her chair as she had been when I met her. "Now, tell me about your classes so far. Do you like them? I trust you've been able to find your way around?"

We each told her about our favorite classes, and that yes, our school year had been very interesting. She nodded at the appropriate times, and her charming smile never waned or faltered- but fluctuated in its light.

"Professor Sealocke is great," Harry was telling her, having talked about Latin being his favorite. Hermione agreed entirely, her cheeks a flushed color as she did so and Miss Elora smiled knowingly.

"Yes, Johnathon does have a way with students. And he's quite capable in many of the Hogwarts subjects. He originally applied for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts, you know."

"Like Snape." Harry said in a hard tone.

Hermione hissed at him, but Miss Elora looked apologetic. She took a dainty sip from her tea cup and set it down with a subdued smile. "Yes, like Professor Snape. They're more alike than I think either of them realize. Professor Snape really is a wonderful person."

I agreed, eager for the opportunity to ask her about that. "You guys seem like friends."

She nodded, turning her attention to me the way I liked it. "We are. He and I have been friends for a long time, in fact, I was friends with him when we were students ourselves."

"Does that mean my parents were friends with him?" Harry asked, looking disgusted at the idea.

Miss Elora laughed. "Absolutely not! James and Professor Snape couldn't stand each other. I don't think two people have ever hated each other so entirely."

This made Harry happy, and Hermione was thinking that it made sense Professor Snape would hate Harry because of how much he looked like James. Everyone said so. Except for his eyes. Miss Elora's smile became smaller until it was just her usual smile.

"Professor Snape is a good man," she said earnestly.

"Are you in a relationship?" Hermione asked curiously. Harry was horrified at the thought, suddenly feeling nauseous, and Hermione's eyes widened at how forward she was being. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's quite alright," Miss Elora said, another laugh tinging her voice. "I do believe it's a common theory in the student gossip mill. No, we are not. He is my best friend, and that's all."

That was a shame, because Miss Elora stuck me as the kind of person who believed in true love. And the kind of person who deserved it.

The next care package from home came on the morning of our first flying lessons, containing gingerbread and molasses biscuits for me, and treacle tarts for Harry. I'd sent her letters updating her on each of my Occlumency lessons, and had struggled with not telling her about the giant three headed dog potentially running rampant in the school. I thought she'd likely have an issue with that. The Great Hall was loud with the sound of owls coming and leaving, bring daily mail and newspapers and care packages for other students; one of which was Neville, who opened a small box and pulled out a brilliant glass ball trimmed in gold.

"That's a Remembrall," someone said, pointing to it.

Hermione's eyes widened at the term, looking up from her paper at it. "I've read about those!"

Neville nodded, smiling sheepishly. "Gran knows I forget things."

"What does it do?" Harry asked.

"A red smoke appears inside the ball when I've forgotten something," Neville said with a sigh as a red smoke swirled inside like a storm. "Only problem now is that I don't know what I've forgotten."

"Did you do your Transfiguration essay?" I asked.

He hadn't, and the smoke slowly dispersed. The conversation around the Great Hall, after the squawks of the owls were gone, centered around the flying lessons. Even the older students were talking about them with a sense of nostalgia. Fred and George, fresh off of their weeks worth of detentions for the Cerberus debacle, asked if we were nervous.

The collective answer was that we were terrified. I personally didn't know if I was nervous or not. I was excited, most definitely, but after tea with Miss Elora I kept imagining slipping off the end of my broom- and I wasn't the only one of the four of us with that image in my head. Hermione spent the entire breakfast stirring her porridge and reminding us of the things she'd read in the library at Miss Elora's suggestion.

Miss Elora, for her part, sent us reassuring smiles from her continuous spot at the headmaster's right hand side. He was watching us too, glancing over with pale blue eyes that caught the light and seemed to twinkle. Professor Snape wasn't at breakfast. Professor Sealocke, was watching Harry with an odd expression, but his mind was on Latin verbs and I recalled him saying that he could get by on misdirection.

"Don't worry," George told Hermione. "You'll do fine. Besides, if you don't do well- you don't have to fly."

Hermione didn't like the idea of not doing well at anything, and it was a thought that followed her to the Pitch as we all walked down that afternoon. The Slytherins were already there, and so was Malfoy- turning around as we got closer and glaring at us.

"Just ignore him," Neville told Harry and I. "He's just trying to bait you."

"It's working," Harry replied.

I agreed.

Madame Hooch was a stern looking woman with spiked silver hair and cutting gold eyes resembling those of a hawk. Her pursed lips could easily be a beak as she scanned each of the two groups as though she expected us to make some sort of trouble.

"Well, go on and stand next to a broom. We haven't got all afternoon."

Her voice was just as sharp as her appearance and the children of the two groups shuffled to a broom. I stood between Harry and Neville, with Hermione on the other side of Harry. Her mind was open, though she obviously was one of the teachers who had taken the headmaster up on his offer of Occlumency lessons, and was trying to shield her mind. She was just doing a really bad job of it.

"Now, place your right hand over your broom and say 'Up'!"

She stayed at the front, watching with her hawk eyes. Everyone followed her instruction, the cries ranging in conviction. Harry, I'm happy to say, was successful on the first try and few others were. I'm not happy to say that Draco Malfoy was also one of them. He scowled at Harry, but smirked at me when it took three tries for my broom to come to me. Harry thought maybe it had to do with fear, but I wasn't afraid. Perhaps concerned, but definitely not afraid.

Once everyone had their brooms, Hermione and Neville being among the last, Madame Hooch came around to teach us the proper way to mount it. It was our turn to smirk when she took an extra few minutes to argue with Malfoy about how he'd been doing it wrong for years. He acted stoic in front of the other Slytherins, aside from the blush in his cheeks, but his mind was boiling with rage that Meredith would have said was unhealthy.

"Now," she said, finally satisfied and pretending not to notice the redness in his face. "When I blow the whistle, you kick up off the ground hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle. Three... two... one..."

The whistle blew, and Neville was the first to rise in the air. But he rose too fast. A few others hovered a foot or two, but he shot up like a rocket and seemed to keep going. Madam Hooch called for him, her voice sounding rough, but her mind was worried he'd fall. And from the rate he was going...

"Are you mad?" I had time to say, before Harry was on his broom and going after Neville.

"Lilia, wait," Hermione had time to call before I was following Harry.

My broom wobbled for a moment until I had a grip on it, and saw Neville slip off of his own and begin falling. Harry tried to grab him, but he was falling too fast and his arm slipped through his grip. But it slowed him enough for me to grab his hand, though I was considerably closer to the ground, and we eased to the ground. His remembrall, which had been in his pocket, had come out of it and fell towards the ground too as Neville had slipped through Harry's fingers. Malfoy, the arse, batted it away and the glass ball shot for a high glass window.

Neville and I reached the ground and Madam Hooch strutted forward to look us both over, but we were fine. Harry, was not- judging by the level of annoyance in the flying instructors mind. He flew after our friend's ball and caught it with ease, and the annoyance in Madam Hooch turned to wonder.

"Potter!"

"She wants you to what?"

Harry's face broke out in excitement. "She wants me to be the new Gryffindor Seeker!"

He'd gone with McGonagall after touching back on solid ground, and we didn't see him again until dinner. Hermione was sure he'd been expelled. In fact, a lot of people seemed to think so, Malfoy included. So when Harry arrived at dinner, seeming no worse for the wear, he was ready to pounce.

"But, first years never make the house teams!" I told him. "We're not even allowed our own brooms."

"No," Hermione said, "but technically first years are still allowed to be on a team, it's just rare. So, you'll be the Seeker?"

He shrunk back. "Actually, no. I wanted to ask Meredith what she thought first."

Hermione was confused. "Meredith? As in Lilia's mum? What for?"

I didn't comment that Meredith wasn't my mother. I knew what Hermione meant. Harry answered. "Well, she's sort of been my guardian too- or as good as at least. And, I don't know. I would feel weird doing it without mentioning it to her first. Professor McGonagall said she would let us use her Floo to talk to her after dinner. She's sent her a letter about it."

I perked up. "Can I come? I'm aching to see her."

"I already asked and she said you could, so long as we aren't too long. Honestly, I think she was more excited than the Captain was. Said she bets on the games with Snape."

"Professor," Hermione and I said together.

"Harry!" Fred greeted, coming and sitting down. "Woods' just told us. We'll win this year for sure!"

George sat down next to Hermione. "We're on the team too. Beaters."

Fred nodded to his twin. "Yeah, and we haven't won since Charlie left. But this year, this year for sure."

"Well, I might not play," Harry said, this time with less confidence. "I wanna talk to-uh-my guardian first. Ask their opinion."

Fred started laughing. "Good one, mate."

When no one joined him, he stopped and his face turned pale. "You can't be serious. I mean, it's amazing. Oliver was singing and skipping- I swear he was! George, tell them."

George was busy having a conversation with Hermione, having broke off of the very important issue at hand. He glanced up. "Sorry? Oh! Yeah. He was a bit loony, tell the truth. But, I mean, they'll say yes won't they? What guardian wouldn't?"

"One who cares about Harry's well being," Hermione said. "Harry's never flown before today, and training or not there's a reason first years don't make the team, isn't there?"

"Er, well," George seemed unsure of what to say before looking to Fred. "Oi, didn't Lee say he had a new secret passage out of the castle to tell us about?"

Fred nodded at once. "Aye, he did. Bet it's the one we found our first week of first year. Two Sickles."

"Three," George countered, and they stood and went off.

"Uh oh," Neville said, drawing attention to someone that approached as the Weasley Twins retreated. I looked over and glared, only marginally calmed by Neville nudging my foot with his to keep me in check.

Malfoy and his two goons sauntered over to us, looking every bit as confident as they pretended to be for Malfoy's pride. "Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting back on the train to the muggles?"

"Why?" Harry asked. "Afraid you'll miss me?"

Both of their faces went red, with Harry asking himself what possessed him to say that and Malfoy sputtering, before he got a hold of himself and his expression relaxed. "Actually, quite relieved I won't have to see your arrogant strutting anymore. It's ridiculous. You're like a peacock."

"You'd know about that, wouldn't you," I cut in. "The strutting and the peacocks? Besides, you're trying awfully hard to intimidate us for someone so intent on being as far away as possible. No one here is scared of you."

He glared at me. "Perhaps you should be. If you know what's good for you, that is. And you, Potter. I suggest you stay out of my way."

"Harry could take you anytime, anywhere," Neville told him.

"The cowardly lion speaks, does he?" Malfoy scoffed.

"Neville's worth ten of you," Hermione defended.

Malfoy pursed his lips at her interruption, but said none of the things he wanted to for fear Professor Snape would catch wind of it. I felt proud, the Malfoy's own Head of House was on our side. Malfoy's face twitched.

"Is he?" He asked offhanded before turning back to Harry. "I'll take you anytime you want. Tonight, for instance. Wizard's duel? I assume you've heard of them."

"Of course I have," Harry scowled at the slight. "Choose your second."

Malfoy glanced over his shoulders at the other two that suddenly looked less intimidating than previously. "Crabbe. Yours?"

"Me," I said without hesitation.

Harry didn't look back at me, the two of us sharing a mental nod. Malfoy, who was already concocting a plot, finished with, "Midnight, then, in the trophy room,"

He turned around and left for his own table and Harry and Hermione turned back around to the table. Hermione was quick to scold. "Harry, that's after curfew. And who's to say we trust Malfoy to start with? You know he'll do something sneaky."

"He plans to not even show up," I told them. "He's going to tip off Filch and get us in trouble."

Hermione nodded in my direction. "See there? And, Lilia, you're supposed to be exercising Occumency. So you don't have to hear everything. It doesn't exactly work if you aren't trying."

"I know, and I have been doing it more, but it feels weird. Like a limb's been hacked off!"

"Morbid," she commented dryly. "But understandable, I suppose."

"Besides, it's tiring. Professor Snape says do it in class, but if I do it too often this soon then I could hurt my magic core."

Harry didn't understand, Neville having to explain. "Our magic cores grow as we get older. That's why there are limits to what they teach us and why we aren't suppose to use magic outside of school. We could damage our cores and lose our magic if it's bad enough, but it takes a lot to do that. Mostly it's a precaution."

I nodded. Professor Snape had gone into more detail, given examples, offered reading material, but that was the general idea. "So, what are we going to do about Malfoy?"

Hermione gave a slight huff. "We aren't going to do anything about Malfoy, Lilia. We'll just not go tonight, and he'll look mighty stupid."

"We could hex him," Neville suggested.

"Do you know any," Harry asked excitedly.

Neville shrunk back a little. "No, I thought maybe one of you did."

We all looked to Hermione, whose face reddened. "We are not going to hex him. That's against rules, and I guarantee that's one that someone would inflict. No. If you insist on getting even, we'll have to be clever about it. Subtle."

"You two start thinking about it," Harry said. "Lia and I have to go."

"See you in the common room," they said as we got up from the table to go to McGonagall's office.

When we got to the office, through the Transfiguration classroom, the door was open for us and Meredith was there having come through the Floo. She turned to us, her mind open with love and having missed us, and I ran into her arms. I didn't want to let go, I wanted her to stay in Hogwarts with us. But both were not possible. I moved away so Harry could get his hug in, and she kissed both of our foreheads.

"Oh, I've missed both of you," she told us. "But, I am not here for that. Professor McGonagall was just telling me about your flying lessons. I'd like to hear your version."

So we told her about Madam Hooch, Neville's anxiety, Malfoy's taunts, and Neville's broom going wild. She nodded occasionally.

"I'm very proud of both of you," she said. "And I understand that, Harry, you have the chance to join the House team? Is that what you want?"

He nodded. "I do."

"Why?"

He didn't really have an answer. "I, well, I love what I've seen of Quidditch. And, Professor McGonagall says I would be good at it. Fred and George agreed. It could be fun."

Meredith nodded and knelt more to our level. "And you know I have no real say in the matter. If you want to play, you can play, and there's no way for anyone to stop you."

"If you don't want me to play, I won't," Harry said in earnest, his enthusiasm faltering.

She didn't want him to. And she said so. "I think, that first years don't get to play for a reason. I think, especially since you haven't grown up in a household where you've flown before, that it's a little too early. You should learn more first."

Harry accepted that with minimal disappointment. "Okay. That's fair. Professor McGonagall, I'm afraid I can't accept a position on the House team this year. But next year, I'll be the first at try outs."

The last part he said with a grin and she looked taken back. "Quite alright, Mr. Potter. I shall inform Mr. Wood tomorrow. I will admit to being hasty after seeing your skill."

Meredith smiled and hugged him again. Then she turned to Professor McGonagall. "I wonder if, you might be willing to make an exception to that 'no broom' rule in light of this."

"Yes," Professor McGonagall smiled. "I believe that can be arranged."

"Then, Harry," Meredith said, "I shall get you a broom that you can practice on. Maybe, if an adult is present one of the older students could help you."

In her mind, directed at me, she was thinking about QN. She was wanting to encourage Harry to play on QN. Then, next year, she would gladly support him.

"I wondered," she said, addressing McGonagall, "If you could tell me how they're doing in their classes? I've gotten letters from them, but wouldn't mind your own report."

"Well, I can tell you that I've heard Mr. Potter has quite the knack for Latin. It seems he's done very well. Professor Sealocke won't stop talking about it. And they both have fairly good grades so far in the year. Professor Snape is rather proud of how Ms. Sterling is doing in his class and their afternoon lessons."

Meredith nodded at each point. "Yes, Professor Snape has sent me a few owls on the matter. What about disciplinary issues? I know they can both be quite mischievous when they want to."

"I haven't heard any complaints to be taken seriously," Professor McGonagall said. "They've lost a few points here and there, but have earned them as well. It's nothing to be worried about."

When it came time for Meredith to leave, not terribly long after getting there, she hugged us both again. She kissed both of our heads and told us both that she loved us very much, and then she was gone with a swirl of green fire.

A/N: Sorry it took so long. Everyone in my household has been sick, and we still aren't comepletely over it. It gave me a chance to watch a ew movies though. Like Phantom of the Opera, which is amazing. And the Dead Poets Society, which is arguably better. While watching DPS, I was struck with the thought that they were very much like the Marauders; with Charlie being Sirius, Todd being Remus, James Potter would be a cross of Neil and Knox, and Peter, I think is obvious. Tell me what you think.

I did not want Harry on the team. I think there's a very good reason first years don't make the team, and I think it's irresponsible for them to have put him on it- much less without guardian consent. I know Meredith isn't his guardian, but Harry thinks of her as one. He respect her and wanted her input. Let me know how you feel about that.

Acacia.