AN: Delays, delays: it took some significant cajoling and bribing of a younger sibling to get access to a working computer. I apologize for the wait! It's a shorter chapter, but I wanted to get this up and work on the next two chapters which will be pretty long.
I do not own Harry Potter, story not for commercial use. Parts come from "The Midnight Duel" of PS. Made up names for some members of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Thanks again to everyone reading and reviewing!
The incident on the Quidditch pitch spread widely throughout the school, faster than Neville thought possible, and had profound repercussions. Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain and Chaser, had indeed tested Draco's skill on Saturday. After five minutes of flying and Snitch spotting exercises, Flint had stormed back toward the castle, gathered the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team, and put Draco into an immediate tryout against Terrence Higgs, the reserve Seeker from the previous year that had assumed the position would be his. Draco had dramatically outflown Terrence, catching the Snitch nine times out of ten, and the team unanimously approved of Flint's recommendation that Draco be the starting Seeker for Slytherin.
After that, Draco's life improved dramatically in the house and Hogwarts in general. The Slytherin Quidditch team became a lifeline for him. After one of their first practices, Draco gave Neville a complete breakdown of the squad. While Flint was an insane taskmaster, he was a decent bloke at the end of the day, and the Keeper Miles Bletchley was extremely funny. The other Chasers were Adrian Pucey and Romeo Montague. Montague was one of the rare half-bloods in Slytherin, and he'd faced some ostracism from his House before making the Quidditch team. Naturally, he'd developed quite a large chip on his shoulder and was very cold and aloof in general, but more relaxed around his teammates. No one called him Romeo; after he'd hexed two Ravenclaw Muggle-born students unrecognizable for taking the mickey out of his Shakespearean name, everyone had gotten the message and he was only referred to as Montague. Pucey was the only second year on the team, but was the best natural flier the Slytherins had. Draco and Adrian got along well, and Flint had ordered Pucey to get Draco's flying up to his level by date of the first match. A pair of fourth-year students served as Beaters, Brutus Bole and Decimus Derrick, and had killer instincts on the pitch. Off the pitch, the two had very few friends, and were reputed to be somewhat shifty and untrustworthy.
With the support of the Quidditch team, Draco was more fully integrated into his House. The older students no longer ignored him, and his skills endeared him to them… so long as he won their matches of course. Neville and Ariadne both knew how much pressure Draco would eventually be under to win, but for now, they kept silent as to not alarm him.
In the Slytherin first year, the core group of Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Davis remained the same. However, Blaise Zabini had struck up an acquaintance with Malfoy, as had Daphne Greengrass. As Neville had been told by Ariadne, Slytherins certainly understood politics, and Greengrass and Zabini weren't ready to hitch their status to his success, but wanted the option to do so should Draco's fortunes and power rise dramatically in the House.
The little orbis exercito that had started everything was now a regular feature in study sessions that Draco, Ariadne and Neville had instituted after the boys finished serving their detentions with Snape. They'd decided – more that Ariadne had forcefully convinced them, but no matter - to work on their spellwork on the grounds twice a week as practical review, and the orbis exercito helped the sessions dramatically when they hadn't perfected a spell yet and didn't want to cast it on each other. Draco confessed that his mother had sent it to him as a means of improving his skills, to escape the Gryffindor bullies.
"I'm certain Snape wrote to her," he said to them one afternoon scathingly, "seeing as he wouldn't get himself involved personally, but had no qualms about gossiping to my mother. I'm not sure where she got the orbis though… they're- well, they're expensive, and we don't have the Galleons to waste on trifles."
For Neville, the fallout from the incident was both welcome and worrying. On the one hand, it had firmly solidified Draco and Neville's friendship. The two boys were consistent partners in Potions, and found time to study together with Ariadne in the library most nights that Draco didn't have Quidditch practice.
On the other hand, the Gryffindors were furious at the exception made for the young Malfoy, but most of the upper years were also put out with Neville for defending Malfoy, and gave him the silent treatment for quite some time. The older students were equally upset with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley for being the catalyst to the incident and they were also treated coolly for a time. All four of Neville's year-mates were therefore angry at him, Potter and Weasley's anger eclipsing everyone else's. The four boys completely ignored Neville, so he cut his time in the Tower short and stayed in the library or on the grounds as often as possible. It was a lonely, isolated existence for about a week, and then the anger and resentment came to a head for Harry and Ron, so ignoring Neville was no longer an option.
It began the evening that Draco received his broomstick. Neville had come to dinner in the Great Hall early as usual, stopping to collect Vali from Hagrid and settling into a seat at the Gryffindor table by himself. Students started to trickle in, most of the Gryffindors sitting a bit aways from Neville. Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean plopped down at the table a few seats down from Neville.
"McGonagall's such a witch," Seamus whined immediately as he spooned shepherd's pie onto his plate.
Dean and Harry both snorted at the half-blood's choice pun, while Ron looked at him cluelessly.
" 'Ell of 'ourse she is, mate," the red-head said as he swallowed some steak and kidney pie.
"A foot of parchment on the importance of Switching Spells as a building block of Transfiguration? In only two nights? It's cruel and unusual punishment, it is. Should write me mam about her, set her straight."
"Well mate, in fairness, you decided of your own accord to mouth off about Hermione Granger," Dean commented.
"He's right, Seamus," Harry said. "What were you on about anyway?"
"I was hungry, okay?" The boys laughed at this statement, and Seamus glared at them defensively.
"What, I was! I didn't see the sense in taking up class time to discuss spells we're not even going to learn until third or fourth year. And my stomach was growling and I just couldn't take hearing her voice anymore!"
"I'm with you," Harry said, still chuckling. "But still, you probably earned that essay by saying the whole topic was 'utterly useless'."
Seamus shot a sharp look at him, but chose to shovel more shepherd's pie in his mouth instead of reply.
"Oi," Ron said suddenly through a full mouth of boiled potatoes, "whas Raco 'ot?"
Deciphering his words through the food, Neville snapped his head to the Slytherin table. Sure enough, the blond boy was surrounded by six large screech owls delivering a long, thin parcel. Neville knew what was in the package, and sneaking a glance at Harry's rapidly darkening scowl, Potter had figured it out too.
"C'mon, let's find out," Harry said getting up from the table, watching as Draco left the Great Hall. Seamus and Ron stood up, each hastily shoveling food in their mouths before bolting after their friend. Dean sighed, but didn't follow.
Neville pushed back from his seat. Ignoring Dean's raised eyebrow, he went in the direction that Potter and his friends had gone, quickly coming up to the three boys somewhat surrounding Draco, Harry gesturing at the blond Slytherin holding the parcel. He could make out the words as he came closer upon the scene.
"…and even if they did put you on the Quidditch team, you're still not allowed to have one. You're a first-year, and first-years are not allowed to have their own broomsticks."
"For your information, Potter," and Draco's tone carried some of the drawling affectation Ariadne had used on the Hogwarts Express, "the Headmaster himself has given me a special dispensation for my own broomstick."
He paused, noting the confused look on Ron face.
"That means I'm exempted from the rule, Weasley."
"I know what a dipsensation is, Malfoy," Ron said acidly. Neville tried to repress a snort, but couldn't, and all four boys turned to look at him.
"Of course, Longbottom has to get himself involved," Seamus quipped. Harry gave Neville a cold look, then turned back to Draco.
"We're attracting an audience, and now I want to settle this properly. Wizard's duel, wands only, no contact. Tonight?"
Draco stared stonily back at him. Neville stopped snorting, not liking where this was going and looking a bit apprehensively at his friend.
"I'll take you on. Who's your second?"
"Ron," Harry said automatically. "Who's yours?"
"Me."
Everyone turned round to see Ariadne approach the group, her school robes lightly grazing the floor as she walked over calmly and stood next to Neville.
"Awww, c'mon Ari," Potter wheedled, but the girl shook her head.
"Don't call me that, Potter."
She looked hard at Harry, then at Draco. The former held her gaze fine, albeit with a bit of an indignant exasperation on his face, but the latter was forced to avert his eyes.
"You two buffoons want to settle this once and for all with a wizard's duel? Fine, but I'll be there to make sure neither of you does anything ridiculously stupid, and hold you both to that no contact provision." She glared at both boys as if daring them to contradict her.
Harry sighed.
"Whatever, Ari." He turned his attention back to Draco, looking nastily at him.
"Midnight, trophy room. Be there, Malfoy."
"Looking forward to it, Potter."
Harry nodded to Ron and Seamus, and the three Gryffindors left for their Tower. Neville gave Ariadne a curious look.
"I thought you were staying out of this."
"So did I," Draco grumbled.
"Look, if I let Neville be your second and walk into that duel without me, there's no way of knowing what could happen."
Draco snorted.
"They're Gryffindors, and that means by nature they subscribe to the most rigid and ridiculous perspective of the wizarding world. No offense, Neville," he amended hastily, to which Neville shrugged. He found nothing wrong with Gryffindor idealism in general, but he understood Draco's criticisms about Potter and Weasley's application of it.
"Their code of honor is the same, so I know exactly what will happen: I'll wipe the floor with both of them."
"My my, Quidditch certainly has gone to your head rather quickly!"
Draco scowled at his cousin's biting comment.
"I think their collective dislike for Slytherins, and you in particular, can push that code of honor right off a cliff, Draco. If I'm there, Harry at least will think twice. I'm your insurance that Harry won't go too far."
"And Harry's insurance?" Draco bit out. Ariadne frowned at her cousin, her eyes narrowed.
"I rather thought that Potter and Weasley were bullying you because they can be great gits, not because you yourself are a git. And I assumed if they stopped harassing you, then everything would be normal and fine. I would be very disappointed to find out you'd actually like to cultivate a rivalry with Potter."
With that, the girl turned on her heel and flounced away, her long black hair swishing right along with her robes.
Draco sighed.
"She's got a point, Draco," Neville offered.
"She always does, I think. But right now, I can't worry about it. I've got maybe six hours to make sure I beat Potter in this duel. So I'm going to get my orbis from the dungeons and head out to the grounds."
"I'll meet you out there," Neville replied. "At the least, you can practice dodging, although I'm likely to only make sparks."
Draco nodded and swept off towards the Slytherin common room. Neville similarly set a blazing pace towards the Tower. He understood Ariadne's emotions, because he shared similar thoughts and opinions. Clearly, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy did not like each other. But the nasty squabbling of eleven-year old pseudo rivals could evolve rapidly into true hatred if left unchecked. Neville, as a Gryffindor and Draco's friend, and Ariadne, as Draco's cousin and fellow Slytherin and Harry's childhood friend, knew that it would probably get worse before it got better. Either way, Neville felt an acute foreboding that the outcome of tonight's duel would determine the course of all of their relationships. And how the winner acted and the loser reacted would matter with equal weight. That's why Ariadne had claimed a place as Draco's second, and that's why Neville would by any means necessary find a way to be in the trophy room come midnight. Now if only he could figure out a way to be unseen...
At half eleven, Neville stirred in his very light sleep, and noticed Harry and Ron quietly leaving their beds. He jumped up, threw on a pair of trainers, and followed the boys to the Common Room. The two boys were in a corner of the all but deserted room, whispering furtively to one another. The tall redhead caught sight of Neville, and said something to Harry, who whipped his own head round.
"Alright, Longbottom?"
"I'm coming too."
"Why? You're no one's second."
"Doesn't matter, I'm still coming."
"What do you want to follow Malfoy around for, anyway?"
"We're friends, Potter."
"Slytherins don't have friends, Longbottom."
"You think Ariadne doesn't have friends?"
"This has nothing to do with Ari!"
"OI!"
The mini-row between Harry and Neville halted in its tracks, as the redhead called for quiet.
"Harry, it's almost quarter to midnight. We'd better get along if we're gonna make it to the trophy room."
Harry scowled.
"Alright, Longbottom, you can come. And it'll be easier if you just come with us, wouldn't want you giving us away to Filch. But you'll keep your mouth shut about everything that happens right now, if you know what's good for you."
Neville crossed his arms and nodded sharply. He had half a mind to retort, but figured it would be better to say as little as possible and get to Draco on time.
Taking his nod as consent to the terms, the green-eyed wizard reached into his bathrobe and pulled out a shimmering, silvery bundle of cloth. Neville watched curiously as Harry swirled it about, and then clapped a hand over his mouth when the boy disappeared from sight entirely!
"An Invisibility Cloak?" He turned to Ron with wide eyes. The redhead nodded.
"Yes, Longbottom, and now if you wouldn't mind," Harry's disembodied voice said testily, "I think the cloak will fit all three of us. Let's get this over with."
A hand popped into existence and beckoned Ron and Neville under the cloak. The three scrunched closely together, stepping slowly out of the portrait hole, where the Fat Lady muttered something unintelligible while dozing in her portrait.
The three made their mostly silent way through the abandoned halls of Hogwarts, all of them cognizant of the fact that the slightest noise could bring Mrs. Norris or Filch, the cat and the caretaker, directly into their path. Neville felt the whole walk was a bit creepy, as the intermittent pale shadows of moonlight were not enough to illuminate the dark corridors. He felt a deep thrill, though the scariness of it all was tempered by Ron's occasional grumbling as Harry or Neville often stepped on the redhead's overtly large feet.
Despite the danger in being out of bounds, the Gryffindors made it to the trophy room undetected and unscathed. Harry reached an arm out from the Invisibility Cloak, and pushed the door open so the boys could sneak inside. After shutting it, the three disengaged from the cloak and the tight quarters the three had uneasily been keeping. It took them a few minutes to do so, as Neville had again tripped over Ron's feet and the redhead had then tangled himself and Harry into the cloak, sending the three of them stumbling across the room flailing beneath the cloak. Neville finally began to emerge to slight laughter.
"After that display, Potter, I don't think you're worthy of such a magnificent magical item."
Of course the drawling voice of Draco came across the room. A second voice shushed him loudly.
"Will you keep it down? Bad enough that they're waltzing across the floor and making tons of noise," came Ariadne's scolding whisper. "Just because you're mostly invisible, Harry, doesn't mean that your words and motions are inaudible."
Neville was now mostly free, and could see the two Slytherins standing next to each other. Draco was wearing a gray jumper, black cloak and black trousers that made him look even more pale. Neville was just able to see that the boy's eyes were the same gray as his shirt. His cousin, Oscar the artist, would have called the color slate, but the Gryffindor only could see that while Draco had truly gray eyes, Ariadne had gray eyes that were kind of blue too. Ariadne was wearing a set of robes in Slytherin green, and Neville wondered how the two in those outfits had evaded detection all the way from the dungeons (where Draco told him the Slytherin common room was) to the trophy room on the third floor.
"I know, Ari," Harry's head poked out from the cloak, and he pulled it from the still invisible Ron. "And what do you mean mostly invisible?"
Draco smirked as his Black cousin sighed exasperatedly.
"Honestly, we could see bits of your legs and arms and sometimes Ron's head poking out when you came barging in."
"Aw who cares," Ron huffed loudly, his ears turning red with embarrassment. "We're here for a duel, right? Let's get on with it."
The two would-be rivals glared at each other. Tension filled the room in a swift shift from the lighthearted entrance of the Gryffindors. The opponents slid into position: Draco and Harry moved back from the other and bowed, as was customary, although Draco's bow was a formal half bow and Harry's was more of a stiff, reluctant jerk. With that, the duel had begun.
Neville wasn't sure what to expect. Oscar said that during the barneskole stage of Valhalla (which equaled the first and second years of Hogwarts) his first year Defensive Magic class had had a mini dueling tournament, but that was after a whole year of study and accumulation of spells. What could Draco and Harry possibly do to each other, other than point their wands at each other and glare intently at their opponent, as they were doing now? Both wands were sparking a bit, Draco's a pumpkin orange and Harry's a bold Gryffindor red.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Harry attempted to use the Levitation Spell they had just started learning in Charms class, but he didn't quite pronounce it correctly so his wand simply sparked a bit more.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Draco attempted the spell as well, but like Harry, it did not work.
The duel continued in this manner for what seemed like ages to Neville. The increasingly frustrated boys were getting more furious, and had resorted to petty insults since their spells weren't quite working yet. He glanced over at Ron, who seemed close to falling asleep, and Ariadne who looked profoundly bored. Neville was glad to be a friend to Draco, but this certainly wouldn't be worth getting caught out of bounds. So when Draco screwed up his face after a particularly nasty comment from Harry about his imprisoned father, Neville wasn't really thinking that anything would, or indeed could, happen.
"Tarantallegra!"
For the first time that evening, a spell came out correctly and hit its mark. Ron, Ariadne, and Neville stood dumbfounded, and Harry was so shocked at seeing Draco actually produce the Crazy Legs Hex that he couldn't avoid it, and was forced into a jerky two step. Draco blinked for a moment, then his face widened into a triumphant smile. The black haired, bespectacled boy saw the grin and, in spite of his out of control legs, angrily aimed his wand at Draco.
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Draco attempted to dodge Harry's Levitation Charm, but in an unfortunate development turned his body so his cloak was hit with the charm. Immediately the pale Slytherin found himself hoisted in mid-air, sputtering and struggling to undo his hovering cloak that was starting to suffocate him. Harry, meanwhile, had still not gotten his legs under control, and he had just crashed into a rather large bronze gong commemorating something or other. The three bystanders looked at each other in horror.
"We've got to stop this! Mrs Norris could be sniffing around here any minute," Neville said seriously.
"If we don't stop them now, I reckon we'll have Filch, the Bloody Baron, McGonagall and Snape sniffing around in a minute," was Ron's panicked agreement.
Ariadne nodded at the two of them.
"Right, you keep Harry away from any more free-standing objects and for Merlin's sake don't let him near the trophy cabinets. Neville, see if you can get Draco down and if not, get that cloak off him. I'm going to start with cleaning the floor of their spark marks."
The two boys immediately set off to help their friends, Ron going as far as standing directly in front of Harry to keep his legs from carrying him anywhere the redhead didn't want him to go. Neville was in more of a sticky spot, as he wasn't sure what spell would bring Draco down, but he did know a spell to separate the cloak from the boy, something his Aunt Clare had used frequently to separate the three squabbling Rasmussen/Lindhal children from a toy or book they might occasionally quarrel over. He wasn't supposed to use the Norwegian spells he knew, since he wasn't supposed to reveal what other language he knew and by extension where he lived, but he could see that Draco's pale face was draining of color more quickly, and he was desperate to help his friend.
"Trekkdemhverandre!"
He said it as quietly as he could and aimed his wand at the cloak. It worked: the cloak came free of Draco's neck, but remained hovering. Taking in a deep breath, Draco made a grab for the cloak so he wouldn't fall back to the floor too hard, but his attempt was for naught.
"Finite!"
Ariadne's loud clear voice brought Draco crashing to the floor with his cloak, just missing Neville. The blond boy weakly said thanks, and the young Black girl ran off to perform the spell on Harry. His legs stopped dancing, and the boy promptly fell over and knocked Ron down as well.
"This duel is officially a draw," Ariadne said hurriedly. Draco and Harry gaped at her, but Neville and Ron nodded in agreement. "This could go on all night waiting for each of you to actually hit each other with spells."
"You've been pretty loud, mate," Ron said to Harry. "It's unbelievable Filch hasn't gotten here yet, actually."
With that, all five of the children froze in horror as they heard shuffling from the next room.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they may be lurking in a corner."
Filch and the creepy cat! After all the racket, Neville couldn't believe that the caretaker was now on the verge of finding them. Harry grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and threw it on him, disappearing from view. Ariadne rolled her eyes, and mouthed at all of them to follow her out.
They were creeping along a passageway full of suits of armor, when Draco collided with the invisible Harry and knocked into a suit of armor. The old hunk of iron groaned in protest, then broke into pieces with a terrific crash on the stone floors of Hogwarts.
"Run!" And Ron was hurtling off through the corridors, the lanky redhead moving at top speed. Without pausing to think about it, Neville, Draco, Ariadne (and presumably the invisible Harry) ran after him, afraid that Filch, Mrs Norris, and the entire castle were behind them.
They ran through the passageways until Neville was pretty sure the odd, impromptu group had all made it to the hall adjacent to the Charms classroom. Everyone was panting heavily, but Neville knew the relief on his face mirrored what he could see on the others. They were clear.
"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty naughty, you'll get caughty."
Peeves the poltergeist was bobbing on the ceiling, taunting them with a malicious gleam in his eyes and a wagging finger.
"Out of the way, Peeves," Ron and Harry chorused, and both boys attempted to wave him away. This proved futile and foolish: Neville had to cover his ears as Peeves screamed at the top of his lungs about students breaking curfew in the Charms corridor.
"This way!" All five followed Ariadne at a run round the corner, to the end of the corridor away from Peeves. There was a door there, and Ariadne was pushing on it hard.
"I can't open it," she said somewhat frantically, her black hair flipping wildly as she shook the doorknob.
Ron strode up and attempted to open it as well. "This is it," he moaned with dread as he pushed on the door to no avail, "We're done for! This is the end!"
"Let me see it," Harry pushed his best friend out of the way. "I hope this spell Dad and Uncle Sirius taught me works. Alohomora!" He tapped the lock as he said it, which clicked. The door swung open and the five of them piled in, then jockeyed for positioning to listen at the door for Filch and Peeves.
Neville could hear snippets of the conversation, but couldn't stay crouched on the floor listening. He got up from the floor, and he assumed Harry (based on a brushing by his leg of an unseen person) jumped at the opening to settle into Neville's previous position. He turned round, and saw that he wasn't actually in a room, as he supposed they had been in. They were in yet another corridor, the forbidden third floor corridor to be precise. And he couldn't quite make it out in the dark and through his fear, but he could see multiple rows of huge machete-size teeth hanging from gums, glinting in the moonlight, from various angles. And growling. And now big huge drops of spit that glistened the pointy teeth, and oh no. No, no, no. Neville could see multiple heads on the creature, hence the endless rows of teeth.
He started to walk backward towards the door, slowly. He hit the door and accidentally trod on Harry, who leapt up and yanked his cloak off.
"Now that's it, Longbottom!" Potter yelled indignantly.
"Harry! Potter! Ssssh!" Everyone was hissing at him as Neville fumbled for the doorknob. They had jammed it shut in their desperate effort to keep Filch out, and now Neville was afraid they'd all be eaten because of some stupid duel.
"we've - got - to - get - out - of - here - now," he just managed to get out between shallow breaths.
"What the - oh, Merlin," Harry turned and saw it as well, and Ron, Draco and Ariadne let out little gasps of fear as they too saw the monstrous thing that with distance Neville could now confirm was some kind of garmrhund, a hellhound. In Norway, they were named for the bloodstained dog that guarded the gates of Castle Hel and whose howls foretold the great battle between wizards and giants in the golden age of magic. Neville had a fleeting thought of amazement that Aunt Clare, Oscar, and Britta would never believe him, until the fear kicked in again and he figured they'd never believe him because he'd never be able to tell them from inside the belly of such a beast.
The hellhound was eyeing the five, and each horrible head seemed to have a mind of its own. One looked ravenous, with eyes wide and drool pouring from its mouth, but the middle head was enraged and snarling low at the intruders. The third head was sniffing them closely, then snapping at the first head.
"Whatever you're doing, do it faster, Neville," Draco said quietly.
"The door's stuck, but I've nearly got it."
Two things happened at once. The first was Neville finally got the door to unjam, and it swung open. The second was the hellhound's right head, the hungry head, snapped and went for Harry Potter.
Harry had gotten closest to the monstrous dog when he was blustering at Neville. He had started to inch away once everyone had realized what was there, but he wasn't far enough away to avoid the huge bone-crushing jaws of the hellhound. He would have been gone for good, but in the blink of an eye as the dog's neck coiled to snap at Harry, Draco Malfoy tackled Potter and his cloak to the ground so the razor sharp teeth just missed the two boys by inches.
"RUN!"
Everyone yelled it. Ron and Ariadne hoisted the two boys off the floor and sprinted out of the room, and Neville had the good sense to slam the door as hard as he could behind him. They didn't stop running until they reached the trophy room corridor. They caught their breath by wheezing next to the floating staircase that would take the Gryffindors to the seventh floor and the Fat Lady's portrait, and the Slytherins downstairs to the dungeons and their dormitories.
"Mal-foy," Potter panted. No one could quite breathe, but apparently Harry needed to address the Slytherin even without any air in his lungs. Neville looked at the boy: he looked pretty shellshocked. His glasses were who knows where, his hands were shaking clutching his cloak, and his hair stuck out in every imaginable direction.
"Why did you he-help me?"
Draco was trying to take some calming breaths, but he looked coldly at Harry.
"I don't know, Pot-Potter. I didn't re-really think about it."
Silence except for deep breathing by the first-years grateful for air, freedom, and indeed escaping with their lives from the forbidden third floor corridor.
"Oh. Alright then."
Again there was a large pause.
"So are you going to duel him again, Harry?" Ron asked the thought hovering on Neville's mind. Would the rivalry continue, or could a shared near-death experience conquer hate?
Harry shrugged.
"Seeing as I think I might owe him a life debt, probably not."
Neville's jaw dropped. Life debts were extremely serious things, and acknowledging that one owed someone a life debt was even more serious. It was an active affirmation of the deep debt bond between the two wizards. The bond did not require wizards to like each other, Neville knew that at least. Harry Potter did not need to like Draco Malfoy, indeed, he could choose to continue to dislike and duel and taunt the Slytherin. So it was a very confusing thing for Neville. Perhaps Harry wasn't aware of the significance of his statement? But Neville knew that Harry's father was an Auror, so he would have definitely been told about life debts as they related to Auror duties at some point... that was how Neville had learned of them, through Grandmother Longbottom discussing Frank's heroic exploits as an Auror.
Ariadne and Ron were similarly stunned, Ron's jaw hanging open like Neville's.
"We just might be in for it in Quidditch. You've got fast reflexes."
"Thanks."
Would wonders never cease? Neville shook his head as though hearing incorrectly. A life debt acknowledgment, and then a Quidditch compliment? To a member of the rival team who was until five minutes ago a worst enemy? He glanced at Ron and Ariadne. Ron's eyes were practically bulging out of his skull, while Ariadne seemed completely zoned out and caught off guard by the whole direction of the conversation.
Draco and Harry regarded each other seriously, then looked away. The Malfoy scion cleared his throat.
"We should get back to the dungeons. Ariadne?"
Blinking awake from her stupor, Ariadne walked over to Draco.
"Yes. Yes, of course. Good night you lot - and don't get caught!"
The two Slytherin cousins headed quickly down the stairs. The Gryffindors followed suit, and Neville stepped under the Invisibility Cloak with Harry and Ron for the trek up to Gryffindor Tower. They talked in whispers under the cloak.
"Blimey mate! You complimented Malfoy, Harry. Malfoy! Are you completely off your rocker?"
"Whatever, Ron. I'd be eaten now if it weren't for him," Harry snapped back in a whisper.
"But it's Malf-"
"Oh drop it, would you Weasley?"
There was silence as Ron chose not to respond to Neville's exasperated retort. Neville couldn't see his face under the cloak, but imagined that Ron was probably fairly red and fuming under his breath about interfering Longbottom or something to that effect.
"How do Draco and Ariadne stay unseen?"
"I don't know. Ari's always had a knack for getting into things and places she shouldn't. My dad and the Marauders ran around the school at night tons of times and never got caught."
"Potter, you have an Invisibility Cloak. And I'd guess it was your dad's before he gave it to you?"
"Yeah, true. But Uncle Sirius - Ari's dad - and Uncle Remus must have snuck around somehow. They couldn't have fit four boys at one time under the cloak: it's hard for us and we're only three."
"Four, Potter?" They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who was awake and casting her eyes for the source of the sound.
"Pig snout," Harry said shortly, throwing the cloak off all of them. The Fat Lady harrumphed in her portrait and glared at them, but let them in without an argument.
Neville wasn't sure why Potter had avoided the question. The black haired boy didn't speak at all as the three of them went up to their room and got into their pajamas, careful not to wake the slumbering forms of Dean and Seamus. Ron was already snoring slightly in bed, and Harry had gotten into his bed and drawn the drapes.
Neville was about ready to sleep himself, when -
"Longbottom?"
"Yes, Potter?"
"Call me Harry."
Neville paused.
"Alright. Call me Neville, then."
"Alright, Neville."
"OI!"
Ron's loud whisper cut through the tentative dialogue.
"People are trying to sleep around here!"
"Sorry, Ron," the two boys said simultaneously.
There wasn't anymore talking, but Neville turned in his bed with a smile on his face. A crisis was averted, Draco and Harry had formed a sort of truce, and he and Pot-Harry might actually be on the way to being friends. Everyone would get along...
...at least, until Quidditch season started. With that thought, his face fell and he groaned into his pillow, trying not to think about how little sleep he'd have for class the next day.
Neville didn't have any dreams that night with the high, cold laugh and the green light, but he did dream about Harry and Draco riding on flying hellhounds dressed in House colors to play Quidditch.