Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: Hey everyone. Thanks for the lovely reviews and for the support. I really appreciate it all, and thank you very much for understanding about the few days of relaxation.

As for last week ... it was the opposite. I was dealing with an awful lot of stress, and there were some pretty dark days. It was one of the worst weeks I've had in quite a while. Thankfully, I am doing much better now, I'm just very glad last week is over. I'm glad to, hopefully, get back to a normal schedule again.

That's a very interesting conjecture about why Dumbledore might not tell Snape that Harry lives with Aunt Petunia. The old man does keep everyone on a "need to know" basis. Obviously, in this story, it's been established that Dumbledore did tell him. But I can certainly see that being a good reason why he didn't.

I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter with Snape dealing with everything. He's certainly got a lot on his plate right now with students who aspire to be Death Eaters, a boy who he's now realizing hasn't lived a spoiled, pampered life, and another boy whose prejudiced and bigoted worldview is being turned on its head. Studying Snape as a character in these differing circumstances is definitely interesting.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter as things continue to change around our beloved characters.

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Neville Longbottom couldn't be more relieved that classes today were over. The days only seemed to have gotten longer, but it didn't take a genius to figure out why. And Neville was sure as heck not a genius.

In fact, there were often times when he considered himself rather dimwitted and stupid. Merlin knew how many times he'd been frowned at and patronized over the years. According to his Gran, he paled in comparison to his strong, brave father, who had given up his very sanity for him. Gran felt the need to remind him of this regularly.

He'd learned at a very early age that there was evil in the world. His parents, who lay in Saint Mungo's unable to recognize a single one of their loved ones, was testament to that. Gran hadn't sheltered him from the names of the perpetrators who had performed the evil that had reduced his parents to vegetables. Gran spoke of them with pure loathing in her voice, but Neville thought that the way she looked at him wasn't much better.

Neville had come to the realization that Augusta Longbottom resented him for surviving the attack that had destroyed his parents' minds. After all, he was perfectly fine. But he was the weak one, the cowardly one, the fragile one. According to Gran, his parents would be very disappointed in how he'd turned out. They'd given up their very minds for him, and who was he? A boy who many of his relatives were sure was a Squib until he finally received his Hogwarts letter. Even then, Gran turned up her nose at him, and was always comparing him to his father.

"Look at you, afraid of your own shadow," she had said with pursed lips as she and an eleven-year-old Neville arrived at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. "I'll never forget when I took your father here for the first time. My Frank was so excited, so confident. Smarten up, Neville. You ought to be more like him." Neville's face had paled at that, his heart aching, and Gran's expression became even more forbidding.

Now, all these years later, their relationship hadn't really changed at all. Everyone loved Christmas, but not Neville. He would give anything to stay at the school, but Gran wanted him home so she could grill him about his subpar grades and, worst of all, go to see his parents to wish them a merry Christmas - not that they knew anything of what was going on. Christmas was any other day to them.

But Neville would never tell Gran this, because he was disgusted with his own feelings. His parents had given up everything for him and this was how he repaid them? Being resentful and sullen at the prospect of seeing them? Being jealous of other people, like the Weasleys, who had a big, loving family to go home to? It was shameful. It was disloyal. He was betraying everything his parents stood for.

But he couldn't help his feelings. He knew he was being extraordinarily selfish, but he couldn't help the envy he felt, especially around the holidays when all other students did was talk about family, family, family. But why shouldn't they? Of course they were excited to see them again. It was completely normal. Why should they have to watch what they said around Neville just because his home life wasn't all smiles and laughter and holiday cheer? Why should it matter to them that he spent most of Christmas Day talking to two people who couldn't understand what he was saying?

And then, there was Harry Potter. He was a household name with his own sad, tragic story. He, like Neville, had lost his parents to You-Know-Who's brutal regime. Stricken with guilt, Neville realized he had also been jealous of him, but he would never show it. Harry's parents were gone. Dead. Just like that. He could mourn for them purely, cleanly. For Neville, there was something very ... he couldn't think of the right word for it. The closest he could come to was to say that it was exceedingly strange to mourn for people who were still here - two empty shells lying in a bed. All Alice Longbottom could do was give Neville gum wrappers every time he came to visit, and all his father could do was hum a tuneless melody and occasionally smile at him, no recognition in his eyes.

But he had always felt terrible for Harry, too. The Boy Who Lived. What a truly horrible title. And they looked at him like he was some God, not just a child like Neville. He despised how the wizarding world either liked or hated him depending on the day of the week. It wasn't fair. And whenever Neville felt jealous of him, there was no one he hated more than himself.

This year ... this year had been the worst of all. Unknowingly, he'd come face to face with one of the people who had ruined his life. That lesson when he and his classmates saw the Unforgivables displayed had been absolutely horrific. Gran's words echoed through his mind: Smarten up, Neville. My Frank would never cower like you. He'd be ashamed if he was here now.

Therefore, he had mustered up all of his failing bravery and raised his hand, his tongue stuttering over the word Cruciatus. Fearful, wimpy Neville had struck again. And when he saw that spider writhing on the desk, he imagined his parents in those same positions and had felt sick to his stomach. It was all he could do to keep his lunch down. He couldn't blame Harry in the slightest for reacting the way he had to the Killing Curse.

After he'd developed a friendship with Harry, his jealousy of the other boy began to dissipate. Harry had reached out a hand to Neville, and he was more than willing to accept his friendship. And Harry had said he was brave. Neville didn't think it was true, but there was something about Harry that made him feel better about himself. He'd never forget first year, when Harry had told him he was worth twelve of Malfoy.

It was during their conversation that evening when Harry had been there for him, and he'd shown Neville something very personal - his photo album which contained his parents - that Neville realized that Harry wasn't as okay as he always made himself out to be. It struck Neville like a ton of bricks that in many ways, they were the same.

And then had come the day when it had been announced in the Prophet just what had befallen Neville's parents, and that Crouch had been one of their attackers. He was so thankful that he was able to flee the Great Hall before anyone had reached that part of the article. When Harry had found him in the dorm and they'd admitted to each other about their home lives, Neville had let go of his jealousy altogether. Harry Potter's life was pretty rotten, too, and Neville found himself wondering - was it worse to be thought of as stupid like many people thought of him, or was it worse to be idolized and worshiped and have massive expectations heaped on you, and then punished by the masses for not fulfilling them perfectly?

He thought back to the day when Crouch had been caught, and the look in Harry's eyes the next day when he'd come to check on Neville in the hospital wing. He recalled those eyes - they were old. They were old, old eyes that had seen too much and that had taken too much on. They were the same eyes that Neville saw every day in the mirror.

And from there, everything had snowballed. Harry had been poisoned. Zabini was the culprit. Harry and Malfoy had been meant to testify at Zabini's trial, and instead, they experienced the horror of a Dementor attack.

And now, Neville, Ron, and Hermione sat with Harry as he lay, still unresponsive, in the hospital wing. How had it come to this? Neville thought, depression and guilt consuming him. He felt that this was all his fault - if only he'd helped Harry more. If only he'd done more about the fact that he knew Harry wasn't okay, not by a long shot. "My Frank would have done far more to help a friend. I'm ashamed of you, Neville. And your parents would be extremely disappointed." Gran's harsh tones echoed in his mind, and as he stared at Harry lying fast asleep on the bed, he felt cold all over.

Hermione was speaking to Harry now, explaining what had happened in classes today. "Several people from Hufflepuff were asking after you in Herbology," she said quietly. "Some of them just wanted information - but I think others were genuinely concerned."

"I wish they'd mind their own business, mate," said Ron, his blue eyes sad and worried. "They've done sod-all to support you in the past."

Hermione looked at Ron a little reproachfully, but didn't say anything. Instead, she continued her description of today's classes. Neville wondered for the millionth time whether, somehow, Harry was listening, just like he wondered whether his parents were listening every time he spoke to them. Gran was insistent on him telling them everything about Hogwarts, including his fumbling, bumbling efforts to perform magic. "They deserve to know everything," she had said, her expression full of constant disapproval.

It was another evening of the three of them sitting with Harry all through dinner. Sometimes they spoke, and sometimes they were silent. No one bothered them, not even Madam Pomfrey. The school matron continued to allow them to spend as much time with their friend as possible, which was completely contradictory to how she normally acted.

Neville wondered when Healer Dixon was going to come here to check on Harry again. Was there anything more that could be done for him? Hermione had said there was nothing in the library that discussed this condition. Neville felt another bout of helplessness seize him as he observed Harry's sleeping form.

At that moment, Headmaster Dumbledore walked into the room, and smiled at the three teenagers. "Good evening, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Mr. Longbottom," he said quietly.

"Hello, Professor," all three of them said, looking up at the old man. His eyes were somber - they didn't twinkle like they so often did when Neville would catch a glimpse of him in the Great Hall. Instead, he looked rather tired and worn, and Neville was struck by the fact that this man was indeed human. His Gran had always spoken of Dumbledore like he was some larger-than-life figure - and so many here at Hogwarts viewed him the same way. Neville had been caught in that spell too - the Headmaster had always seemed to be in control of everything.

But now, he looked way too serious. It was clear that there was a lot on his mind, and a sudden, unexpected feeling of disillusionment swept over Neville. It was completely unreasonable, but he felt it all the same. Why couldn't Dumbledore help Harry? Surely he should know what to do ...

But it was ridiculous. Neville shouldn't put so much on one man. Why shouldn't he be allowed to act like a human being? Why should he not look worried? It was totally understandable. Neville was ashamed of his thoughts, and therefore shut them away in the corner of his mind where he kept all his bottled-up feelings about his parents.

"Are you okay, sir?" Hermione asked - it was plain to see that she, too, had noticed Dumbledore's mood.

The Headmaster smiled gently at Hermione. "Yes, I am fine, Miss Granger. Thank you for asking."

Ron stared at Dumbledore, his expression suddenly desperate. "Sir, what are we doing wrong? It's been three days and Harry's not ... he's not ..." He stopped, unable to articulate the feelings swarming inside him.

Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on Ron's shoulder. "Remember what Healer Dixon said, Mr. Weasley." His tone was reassuring. "I promise you, you are doing nothing wrong."

This, however, did not seem to calm Ron's fears at all, but he said nothing as the Headmaster conjured another chair and sat down.

All of them remained silent for a time, contemplating the current situation. Neville got the distinct impression that Dumbledore was here for a reason - he wasn't just here to sit with Harry.

It was Ron who spoke Neville's thoughts out loud. "Did you want to talk to us about something, sir?" he asked bluntly.

Dumbledore looked deeply at all of them. "Yes," he said softly. "I suppose I have been putting off the inevitable. Yes, there is something we need to discuss, and you will more than likely not like what I have to say."

Neville grew wary at this, and the looks on Ron's and Hermione's faces mirrored his own expression. It was very unlike Dumbledore to admit such a thing.

"What's wrong, sir?" Ron's agitation was clear. "Please, just tell us."

"What I am about to tell you must remain a secret," Dumbledore said, and the seriousness in his tone shot a dart of fear straight into Neville. "It concerns Harry's well-being, and it must not leave this room."

"I won't tell a soul, Professor." Neville was the first to answer, and the words came from deep within his soul. "I swear."

"Neither will we," Ron stated in a whisper, his eyes swivelling from Dumbledore's face to Harry's still form.

"Harry's our best friend," Hermione said shakily. "Of course we'll be quiet about whatever you have to tell us."

Dumbledore nodded, smiling slightly. "I thought that would be the case." He sighed deeply, causing Neville to become even more concerned. At that moment, a sense of great responsibility seized him. He had the trust of Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in the world. He, Neville Longbottom, was being counted upon to keep something big a secret.

"Professor Snape is doing some important work with Harry," Dumbledore said, looking closely at Neville, Ron, and Hermione. "He has realized that this is very vital to Harry's recovery."

"What kind of work?" Hermione asked. "And is he doing it at night, once we leave? We saw him in the corridor when we left here last night."

"Yes, that is indeed what is happening," Dumbledore replied. "As Healer Dixon explained, Harry is not waking up because he has locked himself into his own mind. Professor Snape has realized that the way to bring him out of this state is to discover what is in there."

"Let me get this straight," Ron said slowly, his face displaying a multitude of emotions before it settled on outrage. "You're telling me that you trust Snape to rummage through Harry's mind? After everything he's put him through? After hurting him so badly?"

"I understand that you do not trust Professor Snape, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore's voice was gentle, placating, like he was soothing a wounded child. "But he is the one person in this school who can provide the most extensive healing. And I know that you recall that he has saved Harry's life multiple times this year."

"Yeah, but then he treats him horribly afterwards!" Ron exclaimed. "Harry will never wake up if you let him just ... just ... play around in his mind like that!"

Neville felt exceedingly conflicted, mixed up. The memory of Snape's face as he had shoved the bezoar into Harry's mouth ... he'd never forget it, nor would he forget the urgency in his movements as he and Madam Pomfrey had given Harry the potion that had saved his life. And it had been Snape's Patronus that had stopped the Dementor from taking Harry's soul at the Ministry.

But he also remembered the fear he felt every time Snape glowered down at him in Potions, every time he took points for no reason, every time he snarled and sneered and sniped at Harry. He remembered looking down at his beloved toad, Trevor, after Snape had threatened to poison him.

Never had he felt so confused. There were memories of Harry telling him that Snape had taken him to his quarters on a night when he and Neville's worlds had been tilted off their foundations. And then there were memories of Harry looking completely shaken after a detention with him.

"There is much that you do not understand about the role Professor Snape has been playing," Dumbledore explained, his eyes full of understanding. "He has walked a very difficult path all these years."

A look of disgust passed over Ron's face. "The Prophet said he was a Death Eater," he said angrily. "He followed You-Know-Who! How can you possibly excuse that?"

"I am not excusing it, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore replied, still speaking gently. "You have no idea of what he has done to rectify that mistake. He has made many sacrifices, and performed many deeds in order to redeem himself. I know it is a lot to comprehend."

"Like being a spy," Hermione whispered. "You vouched for him at the end of the war - that's why he didn't go to Azkaban, right?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. That is correct."

Neville spoke up then. "Did he only pretend to hate Harry?" he asked, trying and failing to put the pieces together.

"He can't have done," Ron fumed, shaking his head. "He hated his dad, so he thought it was just fine and dandy to hate Harry, too. I don't know why I ever thought there was anything more to him." He looked at Harry's sleeping figure with an expression of heartbreak on his face. "Harry saw something more, and he was wrong," he whispered.

"The relationship between Professor Snape and Harry is very complicated. I will not speak of it, as it is their business." It was clear that the Headmaster would not discuss the issue further. "All I will say is that Professor Snape will now be instrumental in healing him. He understands the gravity of this situation and has agreed to do all that he can to assist in bringing Harry back to us."

"Why are you telling us this, Professor?" Neville asked, knowing instinctively that there was more that Dumbledore hadn't said. It wasn't normal for the man to be so forthright with them about anything, especially not when it concerned another student.

Dumbledore sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking at Harry's friends in a way that made Neville suddenly feel very strange. "We have realized that Harry will benefit from more extensive care," he said quietly.

Neville's eyes widened, and he saw that Ron's and Hermione's had, too. "More extensive? What do you mean?" Hermione sounded scared. "Are you taking him to Saint Mungo's?"

"You can't!" Ron exclaimed at once. "Do you have any idea what a cow like Skeeter would do if she got wind of that information? You ... you're not making sense - you said that Snape will be healing him!"

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore chided gently. "And do not worry. He will not be going to Saint Mungo's." He shook his head. "The press will not hear of this."

"Then, what are you saying, sir?" Neville asked, trying to sound polite but failing. He wished Dumbledore would just tell them already.

The old man didn't react to Neville's less-than-friendly tone. "Professor Snape has agreed to take Harry into his quarters for the time being," he said.

The reaction was instantaneous. "Are you mad?" Ron seemed to have forgotten exactly who he was talking to. "That's ... that's ..."

"Why can't he stay here?" Hermione asked in a trembling voice. "We need to take care of him, too!"

Neville stared at Dumbledore, not knowing what to say. He felt like the entire world had gone topsy-turvy, but strangely, at the same time, he felt like everything this year had led precisely to this moment.

Dumbledore didn't take offense to Ron's outburst. "I did warn you that you might not like what I have to say," he said.

"Of course I don't like it!" Ron snarled, jumping out of his chair and beginning to pace back and forth. "First, you let that Death Eater teach in this school. Now, you're going to let him have one-on-one time with someone he's hated for years?"

"I know I cannot change your mind, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said. "I can only assure you that in time, you will come to discover that this is not true. Harry is still alive now because of Professor Snape's quick actions."

Ron's eyes showed a mixture of panic, helplessness, and anger. "This ... this is bonkers," he proclaimed before turning around and stalking out of the room.

Hermione looked shaken. "Should ... should I go after him?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, I think that is prudent. I understand that this is a very difficult situation." Dumbledore gave Hermione a small smile. "He will need someone to talk to." He sighed again. "I know you do not understand this decision, yourself." His eyes were kind. "But I need you to trust me."

Hermione seemed incredibly conflicted. Not knowing what to say, she nodded silently before giving Harry an apologetic look, getting up, and leaving the hospital wing.

It was just Neville and Dumbledore now, and the boy felt very small when faced with the formidable wizard. He had heard stories of the feats this man had accomplished - how he had defeated Grindelwald, how he had duelled You-Know-Who and lived to tell the tale, and how he was the only one the dark wizard had ever been scared of. If there was one person Neville Longbottom didn't want to cross, it was Albus Dumbledore.

"Er ... I'm sorry I was rude to you earlier," Neville stuttered.

Dumbledore only smiled. "That is quite all right, Mr. Longbottom," he said gently. "I realize that this is a situation that is very difficult to accept."

"Are you sure you can trust Professor Snape to do the right thing, sir?" Neville knew he sounded desperate, but he honestly couldn't bring himself to care. "And what are we supposed to tell the school? And what about Potions class?" His words were coming out in a rush now, and his cheeks tinged red with embarrassment as he, once again, displayed his "stupid, bumbling Neville" tendencies in front of this great wizard.

"Yes, I trust Professor Snape implicitly. And you do not have to tell the school anything. They know that Harry is unwell, and that Madam Pomfrey is only letting you three visit," Dumbledore replied. "And as for Potions class ... it will be continuing. In fact, for all intents and purposes, Professor Snape will still be teaching it. That is what everyone else in the student body will assume, at least."

"Er ... what?" Neville asked, thoroughly confused.

For just an instant, there was a mischievous expression on Dumbledore's face, causing a sudden, crazy thought to enter Neville's mind. "Polyjuice Potion?" he blurted out, recalling with vivid clarity exactly how Barty Crouch, Jr. had posed as Moody.

Dumbledore nodded, his expression instantly growing sad as he realized why Neville had had such a reaction. "That potion can be used in many different ways," he said softly. "This time, it will be used to assist us in keeping Harry safe."

Neville nodded shakily in understanding, although he would never like that potion. "So you're going to teach Potions?" he asked in wonder. He was excited at the prospect of this great man teaching a buffoon like him anything.

"No, Mr. Longbottom. To you, it will be Professor Snape." He looked at him seriously. "Can I trust you to remember that?"

Neville realized what Dumbledore meant, and he nodded quickly. "I won't tell a soul, sir," he proclaimed.

"Thank you." Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Although, you may tell Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. I trust them to keep it confidential."

"Will we ... will we be able to visit Harry?" Neville suddenly felt a huge wave of sadness come over him as he gazed at Harry's face. "Professor Snape's not going to let us visit, is he?"

Dumbledore's expression was compassionate. "Healer Dixon has been insistent upon Harry's friends being with him." He smiled softly. "Tomorrow is Saturday, so therefore, at ten o'clock AM, you will come here, to the hospital wing. Please let both Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger know. I will meet you, and escort you to Snape's quarters."

Neville was honestly shocked. "Does Professor Snape know about this? He won't want us in his quarters!" If there was anything Neville could be sure of, it was this.

"Professor Snape will do anything to ensure Harry's recovery," Dumbledore contradicted him. "He understands that Harry needs his friends right now."

"We won't misbehave," Neville promised, feeling the sudden urge to reassure him of this.

"I have no doubt that you won't." Dumbledore smiled again. "Now, before you leave, there is one more thing that I think you should know."

"What is it, sir?" Neville asked, unaware that he was about to receive another shock.

"Mr. Malfoy was severely injured today," Dumbledore said somberly.

And as the Headmaster explained to Neville that not only would Harry Potter be staying in Snape's quarters, but Draco Malfoy would be there, too ... Neville got the distinct feeling that he had just stepped out of one universe and opened the door to a strange, brand new world where down was up, up was down, and nothing would ever be the same again.