Neville swears, stumbling out from the underbrush. He's caked in mud and covered in little scratches. His robes have been ripped to shreds, and he's going to need to ask one of his friends to mend a couple of the tears later. At least he's narrowed his list down by a whopping eight trees.
Neville sighs. Eight down, one thousand million to go. Merlin, the wood was supposed to be the easy part! How on earth is he going to get his hands on a core?
It's been a month and a half since the conversation about wands in the Library, and Neville is tempted to cut his losses and take Remus up on his offer to take Neville for a wand as well (he'd done the same for Ron only a week after Harry had proposed the idea).
Well, except for the fact that Neville's actually having a lot of fun. The Forbidden Forest during the day is even better than the Forbidden Forest at night.
Sure, so far Neville has almost been shot through the heart by a centaur three separate times; nearly been eaten by a giant spider; and has had a few close calls with what seems to be a car of some sort; but everything just feels so right out here.
"Ah!" Neville says, tripping over a root he was sure wasn't there before. He spits out a leaf, then glares up at the tree.
"Fuck you too," he grumbles.
Another four leaves fall onto his head. Guess he can cross willow off, too.
Finally Neville manages to clear the border of the forest. He's sure he looks like some horrible mud creature, thanks to the on-and-off rainstorms that had plagued the whole day. Neville tries in vain to shake some of the mud off but gives that up pretty much immediately. He's just spreading it around.
Neville trudges up to the castle, grimacing at the mud he's tracking all over the place. He has half a mind to ask the first person he sees to cast a scourgify on him.
Unfortunately, the first person he runs into is a ghost.
"H-hello, Si-sir Nick," Neville says.
Nick looks up from the parchment he's somehow holding. "Oh. Hello, Neville," Nick says glumly.
"I-is every-everything alright?" Neville asks.
"Yes, yes." Nick says dismissively. Then, he stops. "No! You know what? Everything is not alright! My five-hundredth death day is coming up and those idiots in the Headless Hunt continue to maintain frankly absurd standards!"
"Wh-what standards?"
Nick deflates a bit. "Well. Mostly that one needs to be headless to join."
Neville grimaces. "I'm s-sorry, Nick. You-you're t-ten times the ghost any of-of them are."
Nick smiles warmly. "Thank you, Neville."
Neville gives him a wave and Nick floats off, looking slightly cheerier.
Neville looks sadly down at his ruined clothes. Maybe the next person he meets will be able to scourgify him?
"What the hell?" Filch says, appearing suddenly. Shit.
Neville is dragged unceremoniously to Filch's office, where the man seems content to rant on and on without input from Neville.
That's a good thing, because Neville couldn't get a word out right now if he tried. He hates being yelled at, because of course he does. Who doesn't?
Neville rubs his chest absently, trying to sooth the claustrophobic panic he's feeling build up in there. It's like it clogs his throat up, making it harder and harder for him to speak at all.
With his other hand, he reaches into his bag and feels for the jar of unicorn blood he's taken to carrying around with him.
Filch continues his tirade, seeming especially irate today. The man looks as though he's fighting seven colds at once. Neville wonders why he doesn't take a sick day. Does Filch even get sick days? Neville hopes so.
Filch is just about to give Neville a detention of some kind when a loud crashing sound echoes through the hall.
"Wh-Peeves!" Filch yells, limping out into the hall.
Neville sits and waits, uncomfortable. After a couple minutes, Filch comes stalking back in, muttering to himself.
"Just go," he says, sounding exhausted. "Get out."
Neville can hardly believe his luck and runs off, not daring to give the caretaker a chance to change his mind.
Neville is nearly to the tower when a worried Nick reappears. "Did it work?"
"D-d-did wh-what work?" Neville asks.
"I got Peeves to lure Filch out of his office. Did you get away?"
Neville's face splits into a grin. "Th-that was you? Thank you!"
Nick returns the smile. "Glad I could help! Hey," he says, suddenly a bit shy. "You, er, wouldn't be interested in coming to my death day celebration the night of the thirty-first, would you? Maybe tell the others how, uh, scary and what-not you find me?"
Neville thinks hard. On the one hand, he really, really, really doesn't want to. On the other hand, Nick had just done him a big favor.
Neville sighs internally then shoots a slightly forced smile at the spirit. "S-sure! I'd l-love to!"
Nick does a loop-de-loop in delight. "Wonderful! It means more to me than you know. You're more than welcome to bring a friend or two!"
With that, Nick floats off and Neville's smile slides off of his face. Great. As if Halloween isn't bad enough already.
Just a week later and Halloween has arrived. The great hall, as per usual, looks like it's been thrown up on by the holiday. Neville knows that Harry is begrudgingly impressed by the decorations, but Neville just thinks it's overkill.
Like last year, Neville and Harry spend the whole day together, holding hands or sitting close. Because Halloween falls on a Saturday this year, there are no classes.
Neville, Harry, and Merlin spend most of the day holed up in their dorm room, just sitting in Harry's bed. Harry works idly on homework and Neville goes over his wand research.
Neville grimaces. There were some he could cross off right off the bat (fir, yew, and spruce, to name a few) and some that he's crossed off in his field research. But even after that, there's still so many options.
Eventually, the time for the feast rolls around. Neville sighs and stands up, and Harry turns a pleading look towards him.
"Let's just skip it," Harry says.
"I am," Neville admits.
Harry sits up. "Really?"
Neville nods. "Sir N-Nick invited m-me to his death-day p-party an-and I ag-agreed."
Harry wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Like a birthday party?"
Neville shrugs. "Th-that's what I assume. I d-don't really w-want to go, but he did-did me a fav-favour, and I'd like to-to return it."
Harry sighs, and slides off the bed, taking Merlin with him. "Let's go, then."
Neville gives his godbrother a soft smile. "Thanks. But y-you don't have to come with m-me."
Harry levels a flat stare at Neville. "We're coming with you."
One hour later and Neville is freezing cold and miserable. Harry doesn't look that much better off, standing shivering as countless pearly ghosts swoop around and through him. Merlin has long since crawled into her satchel to sleep the rest of the night off, and Neville can't blame her in the slightest.
"S-sorry," Neville whispers, for the fourth time.
"Stop apologizing. I could have left at any time- oh, hello Sir Nick! Nice, er, celebration? Very, uh, very scary and respectable!"
Nick gives the two of them a solemn nod and drifts away.
"Peeves," Harry hisses suddenly, pulling Neville to the far side of the room.
They nearly walk directly through a silently weeping ghost. Neville pulls Harry up short just before he can stumble through her. Harry stares stupidly at the ghostly girl, and Neville elbows him. It's too late. The translucent girl looks up at Harry angrily.
"It's rude to stare, you know-" The ghost's face goes from angry to perplexed as her eyes flicker over Harry's face.
"Do I know you?" The girl asks confusedly.
"Er," Harry says. "I don't think we've met? I'm Harry. This is Neville."
The ghost doesn't spare a single glance at Neville and Harry narrows his eyes.
"Myrtle," the girl says slowly, translucent eyes never leaving Harry's face.
"It's rude to stare," Harry says mulishly.
The girl's face screws up and she bursts into another round of tears. Harry rolls his eyes and grabs Neville's arm, dragging him off.
"S-sorry," Neville says to the girl as he's pulled away. This just sets her off all over again.
Just then, a parade of headless ghosts ride in on their ghostly steeds. "Here we go," Nick mutters.
Neville starts. He hadn't noticed the ghost sneaking up on him.
"Ah, if it isn't Nearly-Headless-Nick," the ringleader crows from where his head is precariously balanced on his hand.
"It's Sir Nick," Nick mutters.
Neville has no idea why Nick had wanted to join these pompous idiots so badly.
"How have you been? Head still hanging in there?" The ghost says, jamming his head back onto his neck. The crowd howls with laughter.
"Wouldn't it make more sense for them to be booing?" Harry whispers, elbowing Neville.
Neville looks at him confused. Harry sighs and mutters something about Hermione getting it. Ah. Muggle thing, then.
Suddenly the ringleader gasps in delight. "Live-uns!" The spirit says, head falling off in shock.
Everyone laughs, and the ghost bows with a flourish (head safely in his arms). "Sir Patrick, at your service."
Harry rolls his eyes. Neville stares at Harry. What is he doing?
"Not impressed?" Patrick says, raising an eyebrow. It's extremely disconcerting to watch a man raise an eyebrow from his torso.
"Not really," Harry shrugs. "The only ghost that's ever scared me is in this room, but he's certainly not you."
"Ah," Patrick says, tapping his nose (which is also very disconcerting). "Nick put you up to this, didn't he?"
Harry gives him an unimpressed stare.
"No," he says flatly. "He didn't. You know, maybe you should take advantage of the fact that you can maneuver your head around and get it out of your ass."
The crowd roars with laughter, and Patrick's face flushes a deep blue. Nick has to stick a fist into his mouth to keep himself from laughing. Harry turns to face the Gryffindor ghost and nods.
"Thanks for inviting us," Harry says. "We're going to head out now. See you 'round, Sir Nick."
With that, Harry grabs onto Neville's sleeve and pulls him out the door, leaving the room full of cackling ghosts behind.
Neville and Harry look at each other before bursting into laughter.
"Th-that was hil-hilarious," Neville says, gasping for air. "I'm sure Sir Pa-Patrick will think twice before crashing another of Sir Nick's parties af-after that."
Harry grins, and goes to respond when he suddenly stops, head cocked. "Do… Neville, do you hear that? That voice?"
Neville strains his ears, but can't hear anything over the sounds of the pipes. "N-no," Neville says apprehensively. He's got a bad feeling about this.
Harry's hand is suddenly gripping Neville's tightly. Neville looks at Harry, confused. Harry's eyes are wide and his breathing is a bit shallow.
Neville goes to ask Harry what's wrong; but then Harry takes off and they're tearing down the corridors, Harry pulling Neville bodily behind him.
"This way!" Harry calls. "It's going to kill someone!"
Neville's blood freezes, and he starts running in earnest as Harry pulls him this way and that, up and down the halls of Hogwarts, pausing occasionally to listen for something only he can hear.
Neville is glancing behind his shoulder when he slams into Harry, who's come to a sudden stop. "Harry- What-" Neville gasps, when he sees it too. There, painted on the wall just below a wall sconce are some blood-red letters, reading:
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE
"Oh. Oh no," Neville whispers. Harry nods wordlessly.
"What's th-that- hanging over the-the words, there?" Neville asks, pointing.
Harry steps forward, paying no mind to the pools of water he has to splash through to get closer to the scene.
"Oh god," Harry says hoarsely. "It's Mrs. Norris."
Neville's hand shoots up to his mouth in horror as he sees that yes, that's exactly it- Mrs. Norris, stiff as a board and hanging upside down from her tail.
"Is she-" Neville starts, before trailing off.
What a stupid question. Of course she's dead. Harry nods anyway, a grim expression on his face. Neville takes a couple halting steps towards Harry, stomach lurching at the sight of those dull yellow unseeing eyes.
"Who- Who would-"
Harry shakes his head, wide-eyed. "I- I don't know. We need, need to find someone, tell- tell Filch, I-"
"Harry," Neville says firmly, tugging at the frozen boy. "Wh-what we n-need to do is get out of here."
He's having flashbacks to that night in the forest -Harry trembling on the ground, blood pouring from his face, silver-blood-soaked figure stalking towards them-
"Harry," Neville says, more insistently.
It's too late. The sound of happy chattering and laughter fills the air as footsteps thunder closer and closer, coming from both ends of the passage. It sounds like the feast has just let out.
Students and teachers alike pour in, stopping suddenly at the same horrible sight that had stopped Harry and Neville. The crowd presses in closer, crowding Harry and Neville against the words on the wall. Neville is uncomfortably aware of how close the hanging body of Mrs. Norris is above them.
Just then, out of the silence comes the sound of somebody gleefully shouting, "enemies of the heir beware! Get out while you still can, muggleborns!"