Chapter Eight

Hogwarts

October 20, 2017

Victoire frowned as she approached a small wooden door in a smaller hallway off of the Charms corridor. She was fifty percent certain that it had just giggled. As she stood in front of it, she became quite sure it had indeed, for it giggled again.

"Alright then." Victoire pointed her wand at the small silver doorknob and sighed. "Frank Longbottom is the handsomest wizard in all of the universe." The door giggled again, and there was a small flash of light. Victoire went to turn the knob, but it wouldn't budge.

"Come on now, I've told you the password. Let me in for the bloody butterbeer already, you saloperie de merde!" Victoire kicked the door and it growled. Victoire narrowed her eyes and stepped back from the door as it began shrinking away. She threw a bat-bogey hex at it and ran.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Victoire cornered Frank immediately upon entering through the portrait.

"Frank Longbottom."

The boy looked up from his spot on the couch where he was chatting with Fred and Neville and paled. Neville sat back and grinned at his son's misfortune. Victoire stomped up to Frank and stood behind him. She yanked his head back by grabbing a fistful of dirty blonde hair. "Tell me the right password."

Frank winced and stood up in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain that was stinging his scalp. "I did tell you the password! I- wait. Who do you think is the most handsomest wizard in all of the universe, V?" Frank began to grin.

Victoire stepped back, glowering. "The important question is who do you think it is, Frank?"

Frank shook his now-liberated head and twisted on the couch, sitting on his knees and resting against the back. The expression on his face was impossibly devious. "Tell me, V, what exactly did you give the door as the password?"

Victoire said nothing.

Frank shrugged. "Alright, I'll look it up myself, then. Let me just go grab-

"Bloody hell, Frank, just give me the password. I assumed you were trying to get me to say that you were the most handsomest wizard in the univ-

"Yes!" Frank cheered before Victoire could even finish her sentence. "Did a flash go off when you said it? Oh, I do hope the picture took in a good time frame."

Victoire's eyebrows raised to a height previously thought to be impossible. "Oh, you got a good look at it then, did you? Let's hope the rest of the seventh-years find it as amusing as you do when they find out that you've nicked their money for a prank."

Frank sighed happily, flopping back down onto the chair. "Get your knickers out of your arsehole, Victoire. Ted's the handsomest wizard in the universe. I thought you'd get a kick out of it. All your b- ahem," Frank course-corrected after being reminded by Fred that their Head of House was sitting with them. "All of your stuff is right inside."

Neville rolled his eyes. "You're a bloody idiot, son, if you think I don't know what's going on. Seventh-years have always held their own Halloween party, and the party has always been found out and disbanded."

Frank shook his head as Victoire stormed once again out of the portrait to secure the butterbeer for the party. "Not this time, dear father. This time, it'll be right under your noses and you'll never suspect a thing."

Neville snorted. "Right."

Fred yawned and stretched. "I'm not sure this is all even worth it, what with Victoire's downright hellish mood about it all."

"Oh don't start, you're just sore because you can't come to the party. Besides, I think Vicky's just stressed about keeping it a secret from Eleanor."

Neville frowned. "Why is she keeping it a secret from Eleanor?"

"Well she's Head Girl, isn't she? We try to put her in as few bad positions as possible."

"Yeah, we like to save up our points with ole Ellie for when we really need her influence." Fred grinned.

Neville laughed, but stood. "I think it's time to make my way back to your mum, Frank. Besides, if too many of my students see me down here and figure out that I'm quite lacking in the discipline department, I might have a revolt on my hands. Goodnight, boys."

"Goodnight, Dad."

"Goodnight, Uncle Neville."

Neville waved as he ducked into the portrait hallway, passing a still fuming Victoire on her way back in, looking quite flustered.

"Oh- sorry, Uncle Neville. Professor."

"Give him hell, V." Neville winked.

Victoire collapsed on the couch between Fred and Frank, turned to look at both of them and then sprawled out across their laps. "Pity me, boys."

"Aww," Fred petted Victoire's forehead as she looked up at him from his lap. "Is little Vicky getting tired of this party planning business."

She shook her head, swatting at Fred for the nickname. "That shit is senseless. I'm feeling horrible about not telling Eleanor. How can you stand it, Frank?" She looked down to where her feet were resting.

Frank shrugged. "She and I have an arrangement, and the arrangement is that I don't tell her anything she would have to report, and she lets me snog her."

Victoire sighed but laughed along with Fred. The three sat like that for some time, chatting, until dust danced in the early morning light came streaming in the tall tower windows, about the Halloween party, Victoire and Frank's last year at Hogwarts and various other sentimental topics. The three finally made their way to bed, thankful for lazy Saturday mornings.

"Ahhh." Frank entered the Room of Requirement grinning and rubbing his hands together. He and Victoire had visited often in the last month, stocking their chosen location with butterbeer, a few secret bottles of firewhiskey, and assorted party snacks. As for the decorations, the room had thoroughly outdone itself. There were high vaulted ceilings draped with a mixture of fabrics – some a pale, shimmering purple, a few solid blacks, and some larger pieces enchanted to look like the night sky, swirling with galaxies. Romantic candle lighting threw shadows about the room, and little carved pumpkins lined the walls and columns, floating in spirals. Little tables were decorated with sweets and black cat statues and occasionally the non-threatening bat or two would glide across the room. Music was being piped in quite magically.

Frank found Victoire across the room, rearranging the food and drink. She looked up as he approached.

"Alright. Everything here seems to be in order. Have you got the mice?"

Frank nodded and reached into his robe pockets. He pulled out one small grey mouse with each hand. "Shall you have the honor?"

Victoire pulled out her wand. "I shall." She smiled quite wickedly, feeling much more excited and quite giddy about the party now that the time was upon them. She hoped Eleanor wouldn't be upset. Victoire cleared her throat and pointed her wand at the first mouse.

"Vade Loquere."

The grey mouse stood on its hind legs and sniffed the air. Victoire performed the same spell on the other and the two jumped to the floor and bounced out of the room, splitting paths as they exited the room. The doors to the room of requirement had opened up to an archway covered with orange and purple streamers. The room was still quite invisible, but not to anyone who would be visited by the messenger mice, which included most seventh-years.

Frank and Victoire sat to rest at one of the tables, cracking open a butterbeer each and taking a sip.

"I'm glad we found this one, V."

Victoire nodded and took a large gulp, looking around the room. "I think we're more lucky that it came back after the construction."

Having heard the legends of the inspiring Room of Requirement many different times in their childhood, the two set out looking for it every chance they got after the moment they stepped inside the castle walls. They must have paced in front of every length of stone and cinderblock a thousand times before they found it conveniently near the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. They kept the pact that they formed upon learning of its existence and told very few people of its whereabouts. Now, they supposed, would be as good of a time as ever to broadcast it to the rest of the school, or, at least, their class.

Victoire glanced at the thin silver watch on her wrist. "It's nearing eleven. Everyone will be here soon, I suspect."

Frank agreed. "I have something to show you." He got up and walked over to the far corner of the room where a square cupboard appeared at chest height in the wall. Frank pulled the wooden door open by its circular black knocker and gestured for Victoire to peer inside. She looked in warily.

"Frank!" She straightened, gasping at the grinning boy in surprise. "How did you get your mum to give us firewhiskey?"

"You can't ask for everything, Victoire. Sometimes you must show initiative."

Victoire laughed at Frank's precise quotation from her own mother, and Frank relaxed in relief. He hadn't been entirely certain of how this revelation would go, but apparently she approved.

"It's just for us, yeah?" She asked, making her way back to her butterbeer.

"And a few others. I just didn't want everyone getting at it. Dominique and I nipped down to the inn earlier this afternoon and got it."

Victoire frowned. She fiddled with her near-empty bottle and then looked back up at Frank. "You know, Frank, I've a question for you, and I need an honest answer."

"Alright." he said as he threw some crisps into his mouth at the food table.

"Have you got an interest in Dominique?"

"What?"

"As in, are you seeing her? Secretly?"

Frank choked on crisps but made his way over to her. He joined her at the table just as a small group of people came in the room. The three Ravenclaws stood just within the streamer doorway, stunned. Valerie Perks, a rounder girl with long blonde hair, came to first.

"Bloody hell." She whispered, marching across to the center of the room and twirling around. She stopped suddenly, whipping around to face Victoire and Frank. "Is this the Room of Requirement?"

Frank looked astonished and disappointed. "How did you know?"

"We're not in Ravenclaw for shits and giggles, my friend." said a girl named Magnolia Moon, who had short brown hair and unsettling eyes, as she walked across the floor with Agnes Spellman.

Victoire laughed and lifted her second butterbeer in the air. "Grab a drink, my friends, and happy early Halloween!"

More students streamed in over the course of the next half hour, from every house. The room seemed to turn the music up in balance to how loud its contents were being. Frank turned to Victoire and wiggled his eyebrows. "D'you suppose we should have something a little warmer?" He gestured to the bottles of butterbeer in their hands. Victoire, who was feeling quite pleased at how the party was going on, nodded vigerously. "Oh, yes!"

Frank got up from the table with two empty bottles in hand and walked towards the corner where he was hiding the firewhiskey. Suddenly, someone plopped down into his seat across from Victoire.

"Victoire Weasley!" the boy yelled happily.

"Tasbin Roland!" Victoire replied in equal volume.

"This is brilliant, sheer genius." He looke around the room for effect, his elbow-length brown hair dipping into a cup of punch as he turned.

"Thanks!" She giggled.

"And the mouse messenger? Brilliant as well. I'll say, I was worried when Frank was voted party captain, but when you said you'd help him I knew this was going to be great."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, mate." Frank said, reappearing at Tasbin's side. "Knock off and get your own spot." He handed Victoire a now-full bottle, the color of the liquid a bit darker than regular butterbeer.

Tasbin rolled his eyes but stood, grabbing another chair from a nearby table and pulling it up. "Say, how'd you lot get this much butterbeer? That's a lot of butterbeer. Enough to get the whole house drunk, and that's saying something."

Frank rolled his eyes. "I think you'd puke before you drank enough butterbeer to feel drunk."

Victoire shrugged. "I think it's nice. You have three or four and you've got a little head swimming going on." She looked at Frank pointedly and knocked her bottle of firewhiskey against Frank's, took a swig, and grinned. "Or you get something a little harder."

Tasbin shook his head. "I dare say you two have a bit more than butterbeer going on in those bottles."

Frank leaned in close. "There's a cabinet of firewhiskey in the corner. Would you like to warm up your punch, dear Tas?"

Tasbin laughed. "No thank you, dear Frank. You know I don't drink."

Frank shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "Just thought I'd offer."

"Where's Oleen tonight, Tas?"

"She'll be around at some point. She's probably off snogging that git of hers."

"Right, our third?"

"Best mate, he is."

Frank and Tasbin laughed. Oleen, Tasbin's twin sister, was dating the boy who completed a trio of Gryffindor seventh-years. Ezra Long was tall and lanky with limp black hair and a kind face. He and Oleen had been together for a rather short amount of time, but it had been a relationship long coming. Tasbin wasn't extremely happy about it, but didn't really have much to argue against since he and Ezra had been good friends for nearly seven years.

Victoire rolled her eyes. "Right. You three have been too busy with your girlfriends this past month to even take a second glance at one another."

Frank grinned. "Are you complaining, love? We could get right back to our old ways, if you miss us too much."

"I'd rather not be the target of your harassment, thanks." Victoire snorted and stood. "Enjoy the party, boys. I know I will." Victoire raised her bottle once more, finishing off the drink and grimacing as the firewhiskey scorched her throat.

She joined two other friends at a table across the room.

"Hullo, gorgeous." said Gala Roper as Victoire pulled a seat up and sat down. "Would you like some mead?"

Victoire smiled and shook her head, feeling a bit dizzy as she did it. "I've had quite enough to drink for the moment, I think."

Gala gestured to the girl next to her, Lennon Carmichael. "I think Lemon here has done the same."

Lennon leaned towards Victoire, grinning. "I have not. The witch just doesn't want to share anymore with me."

Gala smiled and turned back to Victoire. "It's a bloody brilliant party, V. It was an excellent plan to have it so early on. A "pre-Halloween" party instead of the usual. I doubt they'll catch on to us, unless it's later on and we're all stumbling back to our dormitories.

"Yes, it's a good party, isn't it?" Victoire said thoughtfully. She looked around the room where her classmates were chatting and drinking and dancing. "We were lucky, that's all, what with Mrs. Longbottom's willingness to provide the butterbeer and our finding the room. Also," Victoire smiled softly at her friends. "I think we've had pretty good luck with the people as well."

Lennon giggled. "Don't get all sentimental on us, Victoire." She took a swig of Gala's mead, much to the dismay of the brunette. "It's only October."

"I don't know," Victoire sighed. "I suppose I'm a bit sad because I've been so daft. We've got great people in our class, haven't we? Very few of us don't get along, despite our parent's legacies and such."

"Cheers to that." said Lennon.

"And well, I feel like I spent the past six years stuck up the arses of everyone in Teddy's year. I mean, I know you both pretty well and you're great friends, and Eleanor and all, but," she sighed and smiled again, fiddling with her empty bottle. "I suppose I am just getting sentimental."

Gala and Lennon nodded sympathetically, but didn't have time to respond as a shadow fell over the table.

"Victoire."

Victoire looked up and shrunk back into her seat. "Oh, Ellie." She said softly.

Eleanor stood, half-angry half-upset, in front of her three closest friends. She looked down at them, holding a mouse in one hand and a wand in the other.

"Eleanor!" Frank swooped over, wrapping her in his arms and laughing. "You found us! Here, love, have some firewhiskey."

Victoire winced as she felt Eleanor ready to explode. When she heard no screaming, she opened one eye, blowing a strand of white-blonde hair out of her eyes. Eleanor relaxed heavily against Frank's chest, who was seemingly holding her up entirely now, and downed the entire cup of punch and whiskey in one go. Frank looked wide-eyed at Victoire over Eleanor's shoulder as if to say, how did she find us?

Eleanor lifted her empty cup up pitifully. "Another, please."

Frank took her cup and handed it to Tasbin, who was now nearby. "You heard the lady." Frank kissed Eleanor on the top of her head and swayed back and forth to the music.

Eleanor slumped drunkenly against the table, her sand-colored hair having been hastily tucked into a messy bun and her robes thrown on the floor long ago leaving Ms. Bones in her pajama shorts and a thin tank top.

"It's not that I don't want to be Head Girl, V." Eleanor jumped as she hiccupped. "It's just so hard and I hate it and I'd rather not. I hate being put in this kind of position, you know?"

Victoire, nearly as inebriated as Eleanor, swayed forward. "I know exactly what you mean."

Oleen Roland was snoring between them, her head resting on the tabletop but her arms swinging softly underneath. She and Ezra had finally joined the party near the end, welcomed by a chorus of hollars and crude jokes. Frank, Tasbin, and Ezra came along and joined the girls at the table.

"Well," Frank said, leaning back in his chair with a drunken grin. "I've just sent the last group of Slytherins out. They are absolutely smashed. Especially Florence."

"So is my sister," Tasbin said concernedly. "what've you done to her?"

Eleanor shrugged, bringing her empty cup up to her mouth and pretending to sip. Victoire leaned back and looked around the room, but hiccupped and sent herself into a fit of laughter, into which Eleanor quickly followed.

Tasbin frowned and shook his sister awake. "Ollie?"

The brunette shot up in her seat. "What? What is it? I don't want another short."

"Short!" Eleanor exclaimed, doubling over in laugher once more.

"Shot. Shot shot shot…" Oleen tilted her head backwards to look up at her brother. "Tas! Tas you should take a short." Oleen messily poured the last bit of firewhiskey into her cup, had a second thought, and poured it back into the bottle, spilling half of it onto the table. "Take a shot, Assbin. You don't need a cup."

Tasbin rolled his eyes and plucked his sister up from the chair, grasping her firmly under each arm.

"It's time for bed, Ollie."

She shook her head fervently. "You can't make me. You can't even get up the stairs."

Eleanor laughed. "It's because you've got a cock." She turned. "As have you, Frank! I've seen it."

Victoire wrinkled her nose. "I don't want to hear about little Frankie's cock." Victoire climbed up on the table, sat on her knees, and looked thoughtfully at Ezra. "You!" She yelled, pointing.

Ezra flushed. "I don't like where this is going."

Victoire scooted over to him, rocking the table and sloshing an unfinished drink into Frank's lap, which elicited muttered disapproval from the boy. Victoire came very close to Ezra's face, their noses brushing. He leaned backwards, but Victoire only followed.

"You," she spoke in what she thought was a whisper. "are going to give Ollie a ride on your back."

"Am I?"

"Oh yes. And you," She swiveled to Frank, "are going to give Ellie a ride." Frank shrugged and swished the last of a bottle of mead into his mouth, standing up and turning his back to a gleeful Eleanor.

"And you," Victoire stumbled while turning to Tasbin and grabbed a hold of his sleeve for support. "are carrying me!"

Tasbin sighed and rolled his eyes, but backed up to the table where Victoire was now standing. Ezra gingerly positioned Oleen on his own back, and Eleanor was all ready to go with Frank, standing by the door and holding a basket of hydration potions in one hand and a party whistle in the other.

"On your mark!" Eleanor cried, pulling the streamers in the doorway back against the wall.

"Is this a race?" Tasbin asked woefully.

"Get set!"

Victoire cackled, jumping to readjust on Tasbin's back.

"Go!"

Neville walked down the dark corridor towards classroom eleven. He didn't often come down this way anymore, even on his rounds, mostly because there wasn't much down here. Just because it was the largest corridor on the first floor didn't mean much at all. The dim sconces lit the pathway to the green classroom door, which Neville moved through silently, heading straight for the back of the classroom. He knocked on the office door and pushed it open as a voice within called for him.

"It is good to see you, Neville."

"And you, Firenze."

The centaur looked up from his elevated desk at his new guest and gestured to the chair across from him. Neville climbed the steps to the platform that the chair was situated on and sat comfortably with his friend.

"I understand you've had a dream, and you wish to inquire about it."

Neville nodded, having told him as much at dinner that day. "If you'll remember – the TriWizard Tournament, back in my fourth year."

"Yes I remember." The aging centaur snorted.

"Well, that year, I took Ginny Weasley to the Yule Ball. I was quite in love with her then – but I'm not, now." Neville frowned, uncertain of himself. "I'm sure of it. But in my dream I – I was dancing with her and I loved her very much, but my wife was there and she was crying, and I loved her as well." Neville looked up at the centaur, obviously confused.

"Go on."

"And then everyone but Hannah and I was dead. And Ginny, she – she was especially dead. And then I was dying – I saw the killing curse come straight at me, and it was like I laid down for it. No one cast it, it was just coming for me. I was waiting for it to hit when I woke up."

Firenze nodded, looking wise as he placed half-moon glasses on his nose. "Dreams are the source of every problem, and every solution. Every warning and every memory. Dreams, my friend, are often nothing but dreams."

Neville furrowed his brow. "It just felt so unlike a dream, but yet it looked so unreal, the aesthetics of it."

Firenze studied Neville carefully. "You're very upset about this."

Neville shrugged. "I think, for the most part, it was Ginny that most unnerved me. I haven't had a dream about her in years, in any sense. And just – to dream of her death. It was so painful, but I had barely any reaction."

Firenze was quiet for a long while. Finally, he leaned forward. "Neville, the skies know that strange times are coming. Our old wounds, barely scabbed over, might soon be insignificant next to new ones."

"So you're saying that we're definitely going to have a war, then." Neville straightened in his chair.

Firenze shook his head. "I'm saying that the skies foretell, and what they foretell can change. Right now, it is cloudy. We know not what lies beyond the clouds. But we must prepare for all possible outcomes."

Neville sighed, slumping back in his chair and shaking his head slowly. "I don't know, Firenze. You've barely said anything substantial at all but I do feel as if you've given me some great knowledge. It's illusion magic, it is."

Firenze laughed heartily, the noise bouncing off the quiet castle walls. "I'll say, no man has ever spoken more truth to me than that."

Neville stood and bowed deeply. "Thank you for meeting with me, Firenze. I've quite enjoyed our midnight meeting."

"Anytime, my friend." Firenze called after Neville as he made his way through the connecting classroom. "And under any sky, as well."

Neville walked back down the corridor and up towards the Gryffindor tower instead of heading out to his bed in the greenhouse. It was a Saturday night, and he doubted that Frank and the Weasley children were in bed yet, despite the late hour. As he climbed the last stair that led to the tower entrance, he paused. There was a thumping.

"What in Merlin's nam-." It was as if a light bulb had gone off in Neville's head. He walked to a section of wall near the tower entrance and paced three times.

"I'm trying to find the party." he thought to himself repetitively. As he turned his heel at the end of the third pace, he stopped and looked at what had been a blank slab of wall. Now, in place of stone, were party streamers, and he could hear clearly the noise coming from inside.

He ducked his head in, and a Slytherin seventh-year, Floyd Pucey, was standing quite near the door looking into a basket full of vials stared back with widening eyes.

"Er- Professor, we were just-"

Neville shook his head. "Shh. Pretend I'm not here."

Floyd raised an eyebrow but turned and disappeared into the party. Neville scanned the crowd for his son and quickly found him, leaning against a column off to the side of the room and chatting with his friend Ezra Long, who was holding his arm tightly around Oleen Roland's waist. Neville stepped back into the hallway and thought for a good while about his actions.

"I suppose if I hadn't come for a visit, I wouldn't have known at all." He thought aloud. He stared down at his feet and shook his head, decidedly retreating into the darkened corridor back down to the entrance of the castle.