Neville woke slowly, his blurry vision sluggishly coming into focus to reveal the hospital wing. His head ached, and his entire body felt like it was being pricked by needles. He realized that his hands were bandaged, and wondered when that had happened.

"Good, you're awake," a kindly female voice said, "I was beginning to get worried." A nurse witch was standing by his bedside. Neville tried to sit up, ask what had happened, but she gently pushed him back into the pillows. "Don't get up yet, your body's still weak. I'll go tell Minerva you're awake; your grandmother has been worried about you." The nurse left and Neville thought he was alone, but then a voice came from the bed next to him.

"You alright there, Neville?" The voice was familiar, but it took Neville a moment to recognize it as Harry's. Why was Harry in the hospital wing?

"What happened?" Neville croaked, throat hoarse.

"The broom was cursed," Harry said seriously, "We both passed out because our skin touched it. McGonagall said it could have been much worse." Neville's confusion disappeared with a thunderclap, and his memories came flooding back.

"Who cursed it?" he asked, sitting up and examining his bandaged hands. He saw that Harry's were similarly bandaged. "Hogwarts is supposed to be one of, if not the, safest place in Britain."

"I don't know," Harry said, solemnly, looking a lot better than Neville felt, although he already felt much improved, "I heard Dumbledore was enraged that something like this could have happened. The entire staff is searching the grounds for the perpetrator, and all classes have been suspended for the day."

"Well, at least we won't have to deal with Snape," Neville said, relieved, "Where's Hermione?"

"In our quarters, I suspect," Harry said, shrugging, "Pomfrey hasn't allowed any visitors."

"Did someone say my name?" Startled, Neville turned toward the source of the voice to find Hermione stepping out of a door that he was sure hadn't been there before.

"Bloody hell, you scared me!" Neville said, smiling, "But I'm glad to see you safe."

"Me too," Harry seconded, "McGonagall said we have you to thank for our speedy recovery."

"I wouldn't say that," Hermione said, dismissively, but Neville could tell that she was grateful for it, "I only asked Hogwarts for a passage here."

"Thereby saving our lives," Neville added. Hermione shrugged, but he knew she was pleased. The trio sat in companionable silence for a moment, glad to be safe and together once more. But then, Hermione asked the question that was on all of their minds.

"So, what now?" she asked.

"We keep fighting," Harry said, determined.

"Hogwarts gave us a mission," Neville agreed, "And we won't let her down."

When Pomfrey returned, they were able to convince her that they were well enough to return to their quarters. She finally relented when they promised her that they wouldn't do anything strenuous and they would come back if they felt any worse. Hermione opened the passage to their quarters right from the hospital wing, and they spent the rest of the day recovering and reading about curses and dark spells in their quarter's extensive library. Later that night, as Neville climbed up the stairs to his quarters, he noticed a floor that he was sure hadn't been there before. It was a large, open space, with what appeared to be an aerial obstacle course by one wall. On a rack by the door was three brand new Nimbus 2000s.

-oO0o0Oo-

The next day dawned somberly. The teachers hadn't caught the culprit of yesterday's attac and so students traveling in the halls had to be accompanied by a teacher or prefect. McGonagall had made it her personal mission to watch of Harry and his friends, only leaving their side when they had successfully and safely made it to the greenhouses where their first Herbology lesson was taking place. Neville seemed to be in his element, and Harry was glad that his friend had recovered well. Although both of their hands were still bandaged, McGonagall with the aid of Madam Pomfrey had cast a spell allowing them full mobility, saving them a great deal of trouble. Hermione seemed a bit fatigued, she hadn't gotten used to the morning sparring sessions, but she looked like she was enjoying herself while helping a bewildered Hufflepuff re-pot his plant. Ever since his conversation with McGonagall, Harry had felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was used to carrying his own burden, but now he had friends so close they were practically family to help him along the way. Professor Sprout wasn't the only one to notice his constant small smile.

The dark, damp, and dreary dungeons were a startling opposite to the warm and sunlight filled greenhouses. He, Neville and Hermione had picked a group of tables near the back at Neville's insistence, he seemed entirely terrified of the Potions Master, Severus Snape. Harry wondered what could have made Neville act this way when he hadn't even taken a potions class yet.

"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class," a smooth silky voice slipped out of the shadows and immediately the class became silent. The only other teacher capable of commanding such respect in a single sentence was McGonagall, but Harry could tell Snape was different. The voice was followed by a greasy haired man with a hooked nose and sallow skin, standing like a poisonous viper in black robes. Harry frowned, Snape's aura was powerful, but it was dark, writhing shadows, it seemed almost familiar. Snape carried on with his introduction while Harry tried to remember where he had seen such an aura. He was so lost in thought that he didn't realize Snape was staring right at him until Neville elbowed him in the ribs. Cursing himself for being so lax in his defense, Harry realized that Snape had said something.

"Could you repeat that, sir," Harry asked.

"Harry Potter, our new, celebrity," Snape drawled with a sneer. Harry bristled. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"A powerful sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death," Harry answered, remembering it from one of the textbooks.

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Snape snapped. Harry realized that Snape was trying to make him mess up. Not backing down, Harry stared him right in the eyes as he answered.

"In the stomach of a goat, it will cure you of most poisons" Harry said, adding the extra information to see Snape's reaction.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Snape asked, voice low and dangerous. Harry wondered why Snape disliked him so much. He hadn't even brewed a potion yet.

"They are the same plant, which is also known as aconite," Harry answered. The room fell silent for a moment as Snape glared at him, searching for something wrong with his answer but coming up fruitless. Like a cobra coiling back after a strike, Snape drew himself up and tucked his hands into the sleeves of his black robes.

"Fame isn't everything, Potter," Snape hissed, "You'd best remember it in this class. Next time I catch you not paying attention I will not be so lenient." Snape strode back to his desk, saying "Today we will be brewing a Boil-Cure Potion, any mistakes will be severely punished. You have one hour."

The rest of the lesson was spent brewing their potions, both Harry and Hermione managed well and even Neville was able to provide helpful insight. Although terrified of Snape, his expansive knowledge of plants was of use determining which way was the best to crush Venomous Tentacula leaves and other ingredients. However, when Snape came around to check on their cauldrons at the end of the lessons, Neville's began to smoke uncontrollably.

"Foolish boy!" Snape snarled, vanishing the potion, "What stupidity must you posses to have added too much porcupine quills?! I will not tolerate idiocy in this classroom! Out!" Harry felt his anger welling up inside him. Neville had done nothing wrong that Harry could see, and Hermione would have been sure to correct any mistakes. Besides, the punishment was very extreme for the "crime" of adding too much of a certain ingredient. Then, Snape turned to him. "And you, Potter! Why didn't you help him? Were you cheating when I asked you those questions earlier? Or perhaps you thought it would make you look better if he failed? Leave, the both of you! I will inform the headmaster of your incompetence." Harry's anger boiled over. To call his friend an idiot and throw Neville out of the classroom was bad enough, but now Snape was throwing him out as well, for doing nothing except standing next to Neville. He rose to his full height, drawing his sword as he did so and pointing it directly at Snape.

"What did you say?" Harry said, staring Snape directly in the eyes, his voice low and dangerous.

"Are you challenging me, Potter?" Snape said, his eyes bottomless pits, slipping his wand from his sleeve.

"Harry don't!" Hermione cried, "He could get you expelled!"

"This man," Harry said, enraged, "Has insulted my friend and myself on pure whim. A warrior defends his friends."
"But, Harry, you're a knight!" Hermione said, insistently, "Don't do this!"

"A knight stands by his comrades," Harry responded, determined, "Are you ready, Snape?" Harry asked disgustedly.

"Very," Snape responded. Waving his wand, the desks, cauldrons, and students were pushed to the back of the class room, leaving him and Snape alone. Drawing his wand in his left hand, Harry crouched in a defensive stance. He was not disappointed. Snape fired off a powerful barrage of attacks from his wand, unleashing a rainbow of deadly colors. Harry blocked them all with the blade of his sword. Snape's eyes narrowed. Casting aside his glasses, Harry charged at Snape, using the full levels of his speed, in his anger forgetting to hide his abilities. Slashing at Snape's wand arm, he was blocked at the last moment by an invisible barrier. Snape in Harry stood, locked in their attacks for a moment when with a sound like breaking glass the barrier fell. However, the brief stalling of his sword had given Snape just enough time to dodge Harry's blade. Harry snarled, his anger mounting, slashing with unhindered fury at his foe. Weaving a net of deadly silver, Snape was unable to escape. Just when Harry thought victory was imminent, Snape's eye's locked with his own. An unbearable pain burst behind his eyes, and he cried out as he fell to his knees. Harry's most painful memories passed before his eyes, each one worst than the last. He, a young boy, his head about to be shoved into a toilet by an Ares camper. Looking for friends and finding none. Year after year training alone. No god or goddess ever claiming him. A hellhound, prepared to tear out his throat. A fury, lifting the young camper skyward. And on it on it went, the pain mounting until he felt as if he was getting burned up from the inside. And then a final memory surfaced. A woman's face, somehow strangely familiar, eyes distressed, looking at him through the bars of a crib, then turning away. The woman hastily piled the room's furniture against the door in a flimsy barricade. Drawing her wand, the woman shielded Harry with her body as the door exploded. A hooded dark robed figure stepped through the smoking crater.

"Step aside foolish woman, I want you to see the light leave your son's eyes before I kill you," the figure hissed.

"No not Harry, please not Harry, kill me instead," the woman begged. His mother, Harry realized. Then the room exploded into green light. The scene cleared, the room a smoking ruin, and his mother lying cold and still, the dark figure no where to be found. Harry knew that he had just watched his mother die. Then it was gone.

Harry came to lying on the dungeon floor.

"What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall had arrived.

-oO0o0Oo-

AN:

All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.

Sorry for the late update. Next chapter should come quicker.

Thanks for your reviews!