A/N: This one fought me a bit, so I hope the end result was still good.
Thank you, always, to AngstySnake for beta reading this chapter.
Last Chapter: Harry had a disturbing visit from Voldemort, and Artemius mentioned that he has permission to obtain a second siren for research. On the outside of the tank, Ron and Hermione's Gringotts break-in made the news. Tracey Davis proposed a plan to protect muggleborns to Neville (through Lavender) involving ancient fealty oaths.
Harry watched the brightly painted, wooden box sink past him. It was followed more slowly by several small, three-dimensional shapes, all also painted in bright colors. A cylinder, a square, a rectangle, a star, a heart, a diamond…
"They actually did it," Harry groaned.
He twisted and swam after the descending children's toy. The box had already made it to the bottom of the tank, the shapes lagging a bit further behind. Harry anchored himself using a hand wrapped around a branching coral and stared in resignation at proof of Artemius's estimation of Harry's intelligence.
"Well, it's not Fisher-Price, but it's close enough," Harry muttered. A large white and brown striped fish covered in spines and frills approached to nose around the new objects. The fish was eye-catching, so Harry had noticed that it seemed to stick close to the corals. It had started coming near him more, ever since Harry had started spending more time in the bottom of the cylindrical tank to keep an eye on the students that came and went for meals. He was still trying to think of a name for it.
He'd been trying to keep track of whether the people he knew were okay or not (trying to remind himself of the world outside the glass). So far, he hadn't noticed anything significant, but it was disturbing that students he knew to be DA members often had minor, but noticeable, injuries. Without anything to write properly with, though, he was having a hard time keeping track of everyone. He worried that someone would go missing and he wouldn't notice it. (Not that there was anything he could do about it, but he told himself that the knowing was important. It was.)
Harry reached out and ran his hand over the fish's spines, smiling a bit at the sensation of the mixture of hard and soft fins. The fish wriggled under his hand and swam a few feet away, then turned to look at him with a striped eye.
"Not friends quite yet, huh?" Harry asked.
The fish waited a few moments before swimming slowly back towards Harry and the child's toy. It poked around at the bright colors for a minute before evidently writing the new object off as a waste of time and turning away.
"Can't blame you," Harry said ruefully, picking the box up to set it upright, with the cut-outs for the shapes at the top. The shapes had gotten scattered by the currents and the uneven ground, so he spent a moment plucking them up from where they'd tumbled over a round mound of purple coral and in the jelly-like orange tendrils of one of the sea plant things that the little orange fish liked to hide in.
I wonder if the new siren Artemius mentioned will know the names of these things.
"I wouldn't bother, either, if I didn't have something… to…"
The shapes were… breaking?
The square's sides were falling off, and the cylinder looked like it was peeling.
And underneath…
Underneath was parchment.
Harry's head shot up, looking around the entrance hall outside to see if anyone was around to notice. A group of students was lingering outside the Great Hall, their heads bent closely together and backs hunched. They might have shot him a glance, but didn't seem particularly interested - he'd been at Hogwarts long enough that the gossip must have gotten old, by now, and he didn't know them personally.
Harry tried to gather all the shapes into his arms as nonchalantly as he could, but he dropped several as soon as he tried to grab the box too. He settled for dumping the ones he still had into the tunnel down to the Great Tank, then went back for the shapes he'd dropped and the box. He grabbed two fallen squares and a star (thin, flat, soggy - cutouts painted and glued over the parchment to conceal them) and tried to keep the shapes hidden with his body as he moved them, too, into the one part of the tank where he couldn't be seen.
He settled on the bottom of the tunnel. The tip of his tail was undoubtedly protruding from the tunnel in the tank he'd left behind, but that was fine. No one could see his prize, and that was the important bit.
Harry fumbled to pick up each shape, claws picking at loose, false sides. Each shape had at least one false side made of a thick parchment painted the same color as the original wooden block. The covers were already feeling soggy, warping and bleeding out their paint into the water.
The parchment that had been hidden, though, felt strangely dry under Harry's fingertips. He rubbed a corner between his thumb and index finger, fascinated by the texture of it for just a moment before he went on to unfold it carefully.
His song soared when he saw writing.
Hastily, but trying not to let his claws puncture or tear the notes, Harry collected all of the hidden notes. There were six - one for each shape. The handwriting on them differed. Several parchments only bore one message, while others bore several shorter messages. He fully unfolded the first, eyes hungrily devouring the words.
Harry, Neville told us what happened. Don't worry. We're still fighting. We'll never give up, and when we've beat You-Know-Who, we'll get you out, too. Maybe sooner if we can retake Hogwarts first. Seamus.
Harry, thanks to you, I think I and a lot of other muggleborns actually have a chance of surviving the year. There's a plan. It's extreme, but, it should work. Neville hasn't fully come around, yet, but he's already said he'll support it if we can't think of something else. So, we're going to be okay, and it's thanks to you. Hopefully I'll get to tell you that face-to-face someday soon. We all miss you. Stay strong. Dean.
Was the DA planning on ousting Snape and the other death eaters? The idea scared Harry. He had no doubt the older DA members could hold their own, but could they really put up enough of a fight to retake Hogwarts? And then hold it?
Harry bit his lip, rereading the message. It was Seamus saying that - he'd always been more on the volatile side. It might not be a true plan. Plus, Dean didn't say anything about it… unless retaking Hogwarts had something to do with protecting the muggleborns…
Merlin. He could see it. Dean seemed certain it would work out, so it was possible the DA had some advantage Harry didn't know about.
He'd better read the rest. Maybe Neville had said something about it, if Dean had mentioned him. Harry scanned quickly for Neville's handwriting and found that one of the longer notes was from him.
Harry, we tried to get some notes to you sooner, but the Carrows have been too vigilant. This was the best we could come up with, under the circumstances. It was Colin's idea. Brilliant, isn't it? The waterproofing charms should last a day or two. Best not to leave evidence that we're talking with you.
Harry mourned the news that he wouldn't be able to keep the notes, but at least he had some time to read them (and reread them) and savor them.
I'm sorry for everything HARP is putting you through, and for my own part in it. I wish I could do more than this. Luckily, Braeburn isn't as suspicious of his students as he probably should be.
He frowned at Neville's apology. The research program was hardly Neville's fault, and sometimes it was a little more bearable if Harry could find Neville's eyes and share an understanding look.
Ron and Hermione are in the news, up to the same crazy stunts you usually pull, so keep your chin up. We're still working on the muggleborn problem, too. There's an idea we've talked about but it's crazy, so we're trying to find other options. Thank you for warning us. Not everyone could write a note, but the entire DA says hello, we miss you, and keep fighting. Dean and I miss you and Ron especially. Neville.
Why couldn't they elaborate on this crazy plan of theirs? Taking over Hogwarts would certainly be insane… And the reference to Hermione and Ron must be referring to whatever it was that they'd done that had brought Voldemort to Hogwarts to interrogate Harry again. What had they done? The lack of information had his gills stirring with frustration.
He smoothed out the next message to read, this piece covered in less familiar handwriting.
I can't imagine how hard it is, but stay strong. Never forget that you're not alone, and we're stronger together. We're keeping an eye out for Hermione and Ron, and we'll help them if we get the chance. Susan.
I know it's not by choice, but you make an awesome siren, Harry. And seeing Braeburn scramble to explain you giving him the middle finger has been the highest point of the year. An admittedly low bar, given how things are going, but still. Keep your head high, you should be proud of yourself, and we'll win this thing yet. Ernie.
Ernie didn't leave me much room, the jerk. Hang in there, Harry! All of us stand with you. We miss you! Hannah.
Despite the continued lack of news, Harry couldn't help but smile a little at the reminder of flipping Artemius off, as well as the cheery attitudes of Ernie and Hannah. Susan sounded so serious… and she'd written him first out of the group on this slip of parchment. He wouldn't have thought she would be someone who'd go out of their way to contact him, but then, things had probably changed a lot in the DA since he'd spent any time with them. Had anyone stepped up to lead? Seamus was loud enough to make himself heard when he wanted to be, and he certainly had enough fire to inspire others during tough times. Maybe him?
Hi Harry! I hope you're doing okay, despite everything. We all miss you, but you've really inspired us to keep fighting, and we're not giving up. Dennis told me I probably shouldn't take any photos of you until you're human again, but for the record, I think sirens are awesome! So I hope you don't feel too bad about it all. You've always stood by us and we'll always stand by you. From Colin.
Harry chuffed, sending large bubbles out from his gills with loud plopping sounds. It seemed one thing hadn't changed - Colin was still oblivious when it came to his camera. He was grateful that at least one of the Creevey brothers seemed to have grown some sense.
The last note made Harry's heart pound when he saw the handwriting. Ginny.
Dear Harry, Neville told me what you said, and I'm not giving up on you, so don't you give up on yourself. We'll beat You-Know-Who and turn you back to normal again. It's just a matter of time, and you know us Weasleys, we're stubborn. And don't worry about me. The Carrows still don't have a clue where I and the others are hiding. We're going to raid Sluggy's potions supplies soon, so wish us well. Hopefully Snape will be gray by the end of the year. By the way, last I heard, the rest of my family is safe, too, but being watched. You-Know-Who doesn't want to waste any "pure blood" if he can help it. I know you'll still worry, but we're all doing okay, I promise. And don't feel guilty about anything. We all know you've done everything you can, and more. It's not your fault. Love Ginny.
Harry shook his head slightly, amused at Ginny's stubbornness. It seemed that her fire, too, hadn't been dampened at all, though his heart ached with the knowledge that "turning him back to normal" wouldn't be nearly as simple as she (and the others) made it sound. It was practically impossible. He'd have to tell them that, if Neville came to visit in the tank again. He didn't want them to waste valuable time trying to figure out how to make him human again - they likely didn't even know how his transformation had been accomplished in the first place.
He reread all of the notes again, this time more slowly, letting their sentiments sink more deeply into him than they had the first time. A light tingle washed over him from head to tail-tip, and his song turned happily contented at the repetitions of encouragement, loyalty, and determination.
Maybe his humanity was a lost cause. But if anyone had a chance at retaking Hogwarts… it was them. And that was what really mattered, wasn't it?
"Neville? We've got a problem."
Neville turned to Dennis Creevey, rubbing his head. Their year had had Dark Arts class that morning, and Neville was still sore and shaking from it. Dean had gone to bed early, trying to sleep off his own pain.
His opportunity to finish his homework and then, finally, rest, had been further delayed by the HARP meeting after dinner. But at least he'd finally achieved the DA's objective to smuggle Harry notes at that, so he considered it worth it, even if it didn't help his homework situation any. The important things were already done - Herbology and Charms - but he needed to tackle another sickening Muggle Studies essay and finish his reading for Care of Magical Creatures. Now, it looked like it would have to wait until tomorrow.
"How bad?" Neville asked, taking in Dennis's hands clasped together at his front, his thumbs rubbing against each other anxiously.
"Um… not exactly sure. Katie Miller just asked me when we - muggleborns, that is - are going to escape Hogwarts and go to your place."
All Neville could do, for a minute, was blink.
"What?" he finally asked, just as his thoughts started to actually process Dennis's statement.
"Rumors are going around," Dennis said nervously, hooking a chair with his foot and dragging it a few inches closer to Neville before sitting. He leaned over the corner of Neville's chosen study table so he could speak more quietly. "I have no idea where they started, but if Katie's asking about it, most of the younger years have probably heard about something. I don't know how they got the idea that we were leaving Hogwarts to go to your house, but…" Dennis lifted his hands helplessly. "Rumors."
This was bad.
Katie Miller was a first year. She shouldn't have heard anything… younger years were being intentionally excluded from the DA for precisely this reason; to avoid unproductive panic among the students who were still just children.
And, to prevent word getting out to the wrong people.
Who knew how far this rumor had spread?
It could already have been passed along to the Carrows.
To You-Know-Who.
Neville really hoped that the rumor mill was inconsistent enough that his name had been left out of whatever version was making its way towards their enemies. If death eaters came down on his home and hurt his grandmother…
What was he supposed to do?
There was nothing he could do. Once the Hogwarts rumor mill got ahold of something, it was like fiendfyre, spreading rapidly and without constraint, twisting into all kinds of varied shapes.
The rest he so desperately needed was elusive, that night.
The next morning, Neville was summoned to the headmaster's office. He hid his shaking hands in his pockets as he marched next to Amycus Carrow, who had a sickly satisfied grin on his face whenever he glanced at Neville.
Dean had wanted Neville to go into hiding with the others rather than walk right into Snape's office. But Neville couldn't. If this was about the rumor, he could with one-hundred percent honesty deny any plans to smuggle muggleborns out of Hogwarts and to Longbottom Manor. And for the sake of his grandmother, he needed to convince Snape of that fact so that the rumor never made it out of the castle.
Neville was so terrified that he didn't hear Amycus speak the password to the gargoyle. Neville only registered that they'd passed it once Amycus was knocking on the heavy wooden door outside the headmaster's office, and Snape's sneering voice commanded them to enter.
Snape was standing next to the large desk, rather than sitting behind it, as Dumbledore always had. His hands were clasped behind him and he looked down his hawkish nose at Neville, his expression inscrutable.
"Thank you, Amycus. You may go."
Amycus looked disappointed for a moment, before he scowled and stomped out of the room.
That was professional, Neville thought, slightly hysterically.
Snape didn't invite Neville to sit. He only stared into Neville's eyes, leaning forward slightly, like a cat preparing to pounce on its prey. Neville's headache, which had lingered on from the previous night, throbbed.
"Do you know why I've summoned you?"
Neville jumped at the shattered silence. His thoughts raced with the rumors and the vassal oath plans he was still hoping they'd find an alternative to. He gulped, trying to steady himself and find something to say.
"N… No, n-no, Sir."
He really hadn't missed Snape's classes and the stutter that inevitably came with them. His throat was bone-dry and his hands were still shaking. Could Snape see how afraid he was? Was he about to give away the entire DA because he couldn't keep himself together in front of Snape? Oh Merlin, did Snape still hold a grudge against him for the boggart incident back in third year?
"Professor Braeburn has been singing your praises for your involvement in the research program," Snape said abruptly. "He says you are a vital member and have… great potential -"
That was a serious sneer.
"… For continued work with mer."
Neville took a step back, shocked and confused. The words didn't quite make sense.
Snape's eyes were drilling into him still, like he was trying to see through Neville and into something beyond. It made Neville imagine that he was a moth pinned to a collector's board.
"O… oh," he squeaked.
Real Gryffindor you are, Neville.
"And yet."
Neville jumped.
"Your grades in some of your courses are suffering."
Why couldn't Neville seem to breathe?
"Both Professor Carrows insist that you are among their worst students. Disruptive behavior… constant detentions… homework either full of argumentative cheek or not turned in at all."
Neville's brain finally caught up to what was being said. This was a conversation about grades?! He nearly broke down into hysterical laughter right there on the headmaster's office floor. He was being lectured by a murderer about grades!
Perhaps Snape sensed Neville's tenuous hold on sanity, because he got to his point in a clipped flood.
"Involvement in extracurricular activities such as the research program is dependent upon performance in requisite courses; furthermore, your position as a prefect means that your troublemaking leads others who are less privilegedinto risky behavior. If you cannot swallow your little moral quandaries long enough to write your assigned essays and go a singular Dark Arts class without earning punishment, you will soon find yourself stripped of these privileges. To a Gryffindor such as yourself, the bar may seem high, but I can assure you, it is pitiably low. Do you understand, Mister Longbottom?"
"… I… y-yes, I-"
"Good. Then be gone."
Neville practically fell out the door, grateful to be alive.
In the common room, Lavender had tear tracks on her face. She was sitting with Dean, who leaped up to squeeze Neville in a hug and didn't say a word. He didn't have to. They were both shaking.
Grades.
Why hadn't Snape told McGonagall to have that conversation with him?
Artemius Braeburn whistled to himself as he closed the door to the HARP classroom behind him. It was exceedingly early, but he liked to come up here to check on Calder before the day's classes began. The invisible network of runes embedded deep in the aquarium's walls were top notch and he had no reason to expect that they'd fail, but he'd seen mer at tear farms on death's door from incorrect water temperature or filtering or salinity. If something went wrong, it could potentially kill Calder within a matter of hours, so it never hurt to be cautious.
Thankfully, all his water-monitoring spells produced favorable results. He was about to head out again when he noticed a spot of bright color, just visible through the shifting surface of the water, resting on the highest shelf of rock.
Artemius brightened immediately. It was the children's toy Mr. Longbottom had dropped into the tank at the previous night's data-review meeting.
Unable to resist the excitement of knowing whether Calder had solved the puzzle or not, Artemius summoned the toy out of the water. It splashed the front of his robes with salt water, but he ignored the wetness, peering through the shaped holes into the sloshing interior.
Yes, yes! The shapes were inside, which could only mean Calder had solved it. Had he gotten all of the shapes, though, or just a few?
Artemius hastily vanished the water and carried the box to his workbench. He tapped his wand to the latch at the side, unlocking the top so he could pour out the shapes within. He smiled giddily as all six shapes tumbled out.
"Brilliant, brilliant!" Artemius murmured, already reaching for a quill and parchment to record the results of the experiment. He made sure the worktop was dry before bending over it to write.
November 15th, 1997
Calder has solved the shape-matching puzzle given to him in under twelve hours. He was not observed solving the puzzle, so an exact time cannot be recorded. If Calder continues to relax around researchers, it may be possible to re-conduct the experiment with Calder under observation soon.
Puzzle was found resting on the top-most surface within the aquarium. It is unclear whether this was happenstance or whether it displays an intention on Calder's part to return the puzzle box to researchers. A repeat of the experiment may be fruitful in answering this question.
Hm. He should probably check over the puzzle's components to see whether they had all been returned without harm, or if Calder had attempted to eat them first. Had Calder figured out the purpose of the toy right away, or had he needed to rule out his other base instincts, first?
Almost absently, Artemius looked over the shapes, not seeing anything at first that stood out. Then he noticed a faint scratch on the square block, where the paint had been scraped away in…
An "H."
Breath catching, Artemius picked up the block and scrutinized it. He confirmed that it was, indeed, an English letter lightly and crudely carved into the surface of the wood.
Artemius quickly examined the rest of the blocks, his chest tightening with each one. There were letters on all of them, scratched in the same way. He already had an awful inkling that they were intentional, that they fit together… He could already see what they might spell. But it wasn't until he lined them up in the same order one would put them into the box's lid if one were moving from left to right that it was confirmed.
HARRY P.
Artemius hastily cast a reparo on the blocks, erasing the scratch marks, before shoving the entire puzzle box into a storage cabinet and hastening from the room. He couldn't finish his notes just then; he would be late for breakfast, he told himself, and a good breakfast was essential to a healthy mind.
…Impossible.
A trick of the light. Perhaps certain students' doubts were getting to him.
But the reparo had erased the scratches. No trick of the light.
No, it was probably a prank from a student. That was it. Yes.
Artemius worried his lip at the most obvious potential culprit. It couldn't be Mr. Longbottom, surely? He was far too responsible, capable, and respectful to do something in such poor taste, even if he'd had his reservations about Calder's origins at first.
But perhaps… a Gryffindor housemate had gotten their hands on the puzzle before it was given to Calder, and Mr. Longbottom hadn't noticed? The scratches were faint, after all, and the shapes had been dumped straight from the box into the water without being individually handled. Easily overlooked.
Yes. That was it.
Artemius nodded to himself, and began humming his favorite opera tune as he walked down to breakfast.
The matter wasn't worth thinking on any further.
Besides, he was expecting a letter from the tear farm he had connections with, and was crossing his fingers that his owl would bring it over breakfast. If everything was going according to their previous correspondence, chances were high that the letter would contain details of his next specimen's arrival. A female, he'd insisted - the healthiest the tear farm had. The poor creature was likely still going to be in need of some time to recoup her health and spirits, given the oft miserable conditions the tear farms kept their mer in, so he didn't want to lose any more time than necessary. The tear farm, of course, would charge him far more for the trouble, but he could afford it, thanks to Lord Slytherin's generosity.
Really, he'd never felt so spoiled. Two decades he'd spent out on miserable muggle fishing boats, hoping for the rarest sighting of a wild mer; or finding his way to illegal mer tear farms to make what few observations he could from the pitiable creatures there. He'd lived off of scant muggle currency earned doing odd jobs in the fishing villages and ports he frequented, never settling anywhere, always chasing the latest vague rumors whether magical or muggle in origin. He'd often been cold and wet and forced to hide his magic, for only a few tidbits of certain knowledge gained over the course of his career.
But he'd persevered - published his barely-researched hypotheses in the hopes of garnering more attention and funding from anyone who'd bother to even give the papers a glance. He hadn't known it was actually paying off until Severus Snape's owl had tracked him down on Thira, a small island in the Sea of Crete, asking if he, as the "world's leading expert on mer," would be interested in heading up a research program generously funded by Lord Slytherin at Britain's premier magical school.
It made him giddy every time he remembered that day. He'd kept the letter, of course.
Even better, his research was making real progress now, at a rate he never could have dreamed of. And with a second siren soon to arrive, it could only get better. He couldn't wait to compare mersong from two different sources.
Even more, though? He couldn't wait to see how Calder reacted. Their first interactions would have to be monitored, of course - no one knew how relations between the genders worked among sirens, and it was entirely possible things could turn violent. But sirens were known to be social creatures, so Artemius hoped that the pair would take… a shine to each other quickly. Perhaps in a few years, there would be even more sirens gracing Hogwarts' halls.
He skipped a bit at the thought - what exciting times!
Neville woke. It was dark out, still, but his heart was already starting to race. Something was wrong… knocking?
"Dean? Neville?"
It was Lavender.
Nevile sat up in bed, rubbing exhaustion from his eyes. Dean was already sliding off of his bed to open the door. He was wearing his plain navy blue set of pyjamas - he hadn't dared to wear the ones emblazoned with his favorite muggle football team since last year. Lamplight spilled into the dark room as the door opened, silhouetting two girls in the doorway. Neville had to squint against the light to recognize that the second girl was Parvati.
"Is everything okay?" Dean asked, keeping his voice low.
"We need to call a meeting," Parvati said, voice trembling.
"Come in," Neville said, pushing his covers back to sit on the side of his bed. Dean backed away from the doorway to let the two girls inside, then closed the door behind them. No one reached to turn on the lights. Even though most of Gryffindor was against Snape and the Carrows, there was no point in taking an unnecessary risk.
"What's going on?" Dean asked tightly.
"Padma was patrolling with Parkinson tonight," Parvati said. "She pulled me aside at the end of the shift. Parkinson was bragging about her family getting gifted muggleborns as servants."
"What?" Dean hissed.
Neville stood to join the rest of them in the middle of the room.
"It's true," Parvati insisted, sounding as if she were a second away from breaking down in full-fledged sobs. "She said that pureblood families who follow You-Know-Who are going to be rewarded and help with putting mu… muggleborns in their 'rightful place.'"
"Did she say, word for word, that muggleborns are going to be purebloods' servants?" Neville asked.
"Well… I think so. Padma said that's what she said and I trust Padma."
"I do too," Lavender put in quickly.
"We trust Padma too," Neville said. "But do we trust Parkinson? She's always bragging about something, and who knows how much of it is true."
"Yeah," Dean said, letting out a relieved breath at Neville's point. "She's full of hot air. It's probably nothing."
"What if it's not, though?" Lavender said, sniffling and then rubbing at her eyes. "We already know rumors got leaked somehow, so who knows if it's already gotten back to You-Know-Who? Maybe he's going to steal Tracey's idea and try to force us all to swear to death eaters instead!"
"Why would he do that?" Dean asked, crossing his arms. "Harry said he's trying to send us all off to that 'school' he's building, so why would he change his plans now?"
Neville nodded in agreement.
"That was ages ago," Parvati hissed. "Months! And we haven't heard anything about it since, so it's entirely possible You-Know-Who changed his mind!"
"Of course we haven't heard anything else about it!" Dean hissed back. "I doubt You-Know-Who is going to make his evil plans to murder us all public, now is he? And Harry's a hell of a lot more of a reliable source than Parkinson!"
"Well, we don't really know that, either, do we?" Parvati scoffed. "Potter was held prisoner by You-Know-Who for who knows how long before he got to Hogwarts. You-Know-Who probably messed with his head! And we don't even know how he knows about the muggleborn school thing, anyway! For all we know, he heard that from Parkinson or something!"
"You're ridiculous," Dean snapped. "I can't believe you're going to trust a rumor from Parkinson over Harry."
"This isn't getting us anywhere," Neville interrupted. "Dean's right, though. I understand why you're afraid, Parvati, Lavender, but we have no way of knowing whether this rumor is any more reliable than the other ones we've heard going around lately."
"We can't keep doing nothing," Lavender said, voice cracking on the last word.
"We won't," Dean said firmly. "We'll take action before the holidays. One way or another."
"We just don't want to rush," Neville added.
"No, no, I… understand," Lavender said, shoulders sagging. She lifted a hand to swipe at her face. "Merlin knows I don't want to rush into that plan. But I just… want to feel safe again. I can't stand this any more."
Dean leaned over and pulled her into a side-hug.
The silence afterward was thick. They all felt the pressure, and Lavender and Parvati were far from the first to break down under it. With rumors getting more and more distorted by the day, it was only a matter of time before someone did something foolish out of sheer desperation. Neville just hoped they could control the fallout when it did happen.
Seamus, Ginny, and Flynn executed their plan to raid Slughorn's potions stores the next night. Neville was anxious through the whole morning. No announcements had been made at breakfast about any misdemeanors, and the Carrows seemed to be acting as they normally did. Slughorn might have been a little more anxious than usual, but he'd been quiet and jittery the whole year. Neville hoped that it only meant that the thieving trio had accomplished their mission without getting caught.
The soonest he could get away to the Room of Requirement to check on them all was fifteen minutes before they had a called DA meeting, anyhow. Neville and Dean went up early together, sticking to as many secret passages as they could.
When they arrived, Neville was relieved to see all three safe and sound.
Seamus grinned widely and stood up from where he'd been sitting on one of the narrow cots in the room with Flynn.
"I told you we could do it."
"You got the veritaserum?" Dean asked, looking around the room.
"Well, only a small bottle," Ginny said, kicked back on her own cot with her hands crossed behind her head. "If there's more in the castle, it's somewhere else. But we did get a massive haul of healing potions, pepper-ups, calming draughts, and invigoration draughts. Plus a few others that might come in handy."
"It looked like Slughorn was about to restock the Hospital Wing," Seamus said. "Feel kind of bad we took it instead, but… hey, he can brew more. We can't."
Neville tried not to let his disappointment show. If Slughorn hadn't had a significant stock of veritaserum, it was likely that Snape had it, and that would be nearly impossible to get. Hoping that a stock of it wasn't being built up would be purely wishful thinking.
Maybe they'd at least delayed a school-wide interrogation by a little bit, if Snape had been counting on Slughorn's contribution. A small bottle would still be enough to dose dozens of students, after all.
"Were you seen?" Neville asked.
Seamus, Ginny, and Flynn all exchanged glances.
Neville frowned. Clearly, the answer was yes, but why hadn't the Carrows said anything?
"We ran into Malfoy," Flynn finally said, slowly grinning. "But we took care of it."
"Took care of it?" Dean squeaked. "Are the Carrows going to find his body somewhere?"
"What? No!" Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "We just… knocked him out. I don't think he even saw us properly. We came up from behind him, and he was ranting so loudly that we heard him from halls away."
"We think he was hammered," Seamus said, smirking. "We could barely make out a proper word he said. Even if he got a glimpse of us, he probably won't remember it."
It sounded like they'd got off surprisingly well, then. And all three had less tension hanging around them - Neville felt sure that their desire for action had been sated, at least for the time being.
"Did you get our messages to Harry?" Ginny asked, lips pursed. She'd wanted to use their potion-heist as an excuse to visit Harry herself, but Neville and Seamus had talked her out of it. They could make it down to the dungeons using mostly secret passages that bypassed the dangerous Great Hall, and going out of their way either to the tank or to the HARP room would have been a massive, unnecessary risk. She hadn't been happy to admit it, but she'd conceded in the end when Colin had come up with the plan to smuggle written messages to Harry instead.
"Yeah," Neville said. "We haven't had another HARP meeting since, though, but all the messages made it into the tank without Braeburn noticing."
"Good," Ginny said with a brief nod. "Is he okay?"
"We've been seeing him more," Dean said. "I think he's watching the students in the Entrance Hall. He's there every time we go for a meal the last few days."
Neville had noticed it too. Harry had gone from an elusive, hardly-ever-seen figure in the tank to a nigh-constant fixture within view of the Great Hall's doors. Whenever it was safe to do so, Dean and Neville both waved at him. Sometimes Harry didn't notice, distracted by something he'd been doing with strips of seaweed, but he'd waved back every other time, seemingly okay.
Others began to trickle in for the meeting. Neville left Dean to chat with Seamus and went to check on the younger students who'd been hiding in the Room. He was relieved to find them playing a game of cards between a couple of cots on a plush rug. After finding them content, Neville left them to their game and joined Susan and Justin.
"Everything alright?" she greeted him.
"Yeah, everything went fine," Neville said. "You both?"
"We're okay," Justin said with a wide, forced smile. His shoulder was slightly stooped, and he had a scrape on his cheek that was new since Neville had seen him in Herbology that morning. A quick glance at his hands showed that they were trembling slightly. They had had Muggle Studies after Herbology, Neville knew.
Neville glanced at Susan's hands. Hers were shaking too.
She noticed his look and pursed her lips. "They tried to make Justin disown his family."
"Which, of course, I didn't," Justin said with false nonchalance. "I'm proud to be a Finch-Fletchley and I told them exactly why."
Neville swallowed, even though incidents like that seemed to be happening every day. It didn't explain Susan's own cruciatus tremors, but Neville could guess. The Carrows liked to try to make non-compliant purebloods punish their "lesser-blooded" friends for their so-called misdeeds. Refusing was how Neville got most of his own punishments.
"I'm sorry," Neville told them.
Justin shrugged. "It's not the first time, right?"
They turned as the doors opened. Neville reached for his wand along with Susan and Justin, because the girl coming in was not someone Neville immediately recognized.
Then he looked more closely at the Slytherin crest on her robes, the dull red hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, and the deep, dark circles under her eyes.
"Davis?" he asked, surprised.
She looked… sick.
Neville felt nausea stirring in his gut as she looked back at him. Her eyes were hollow, she was pale as a ghost, her cheeks were sunken, and she had a split lip. Her hands were shaking so badly that Neville could see it even from over a dozen feet away.
"Longbottom," she rasped. "Lavender said I was welcome."
"You are," he said quickly, glancing around the room to see that everyone else had noticed her coming in and had shared his own reaction - not recognizing her and acting as if she was a threat. "She was invited," he clarified for everyone else, many who had their wands out.
Lavender emerged from a group congregated around Seamus and took Davis's hands to draw her into a hug. Davis slumped into it, closing her eyes as she leaned her face into Lavender's shoulder, shoulders shaking slightly.
Neville turned away to give them their privacy, a lump in his throat. Davis looked like she was a moment away from total collapse. He realized that it was likely that there was nowhere she had that was relatively safe in the castle - not even her dorm room. Was she being hurt by the Carrows in class and her housemates outside of class?
"Why don't you come sit down?" Neville overheard Lavender murmur.
"I need to talk to Longbottom," Davis denied.
Neville turned back around, meeting Davis's eyes. "I'm not accepting vassal oaths while there's still time for another plan."
"I hope you'll reconsider that." Davis reached into her robe pocket and withdrew a rolled piece of parchment with a broken wax seal in silver and black hanging onto the edge. "I found Malfoy passed out in the hall and snooped through his pockets. This is a copy of a letter he wrote, but hadn't yet sent. It's addressed to the Dark Lord."
Neville's breath caught. He glanced over at Seamus, and saw the other boy flushing as he realized that he, Ginny, and Flynn had missed such an important object even though they'd been the ones to knock Malfoy out.
"Why didn't you take the original?" Zacharias asked.
"Because it wouldn't have helped anything," Davis said darkly. "He'd have just written it again. This way, at least he doesn't realize the information has leaked."
"Smart," Ginny acknowledged, reluctantly.
"What's it about?" Susan asked, having come up to Neville's side along with Justin. Everyone else in the room had gathered around at this point, as well, to be able to hear.
"Malfoy worked out what my plan was based on the rumors that have been going around, and he's reporting to the Dark Lord," Davis said hollowly. "He suggests forcing muggleborns to swear to approved pureblood families as soon as possible to prevent defection to unfavorable families. Here. You can read it for yourselves."
Guilt coiled in Neville's stomach. Like that rumor Parvati and Lavender were so worried about.
Davis passed the scroll over to Neville. Neville handed it to Justin, figuring the muggleborns had the right to verify the news with their own eyes.
Justin quickly scanned it, face pale.
"She's right," he confirmed numbly, then passed the scroll on to Susan. She only took a moment to glance it over, before handing it to Neville.
Feeling sick, Neville did the same, taking just a moment to see with his own eyes Davis's desperate plan outlined in nauseatingly obsequious language, followed by a self-deprecating suggestion of a counter plan, just as Davis had said. Neville was aware of Dean leaning over his shoulder, and passed the scroll on to him once he was done. It circulated quickly among the assembled members - no one seemed willing to read the horrible words aloud.
"Bastard," Seamus hissed when the letter reached him, though the insult seemed somewhat diminished of its usual heat. The situation was too dire to worry overmuch about Malfoy acting exactly how they'd expect.
"Will You-Know-Who even believe him?" Dennis asked weakly. "I mean, it's based on rumors, that's all."
No one had an answer.
"How do we know you didn't rat us out?" Zacharias accused, glaring at Davis.
Lavender pushed in front of her Slytherin friend, teary-eyed but fierce. "Don't even start! Tracey's had it worse than any of the rest of us this year!"
"All the more reason for her to try to buy herself some favor with the other side," Romilda Vane said.
"Even if that were my plan," Davis interrupted, "it wouldn't get me much. I'll never be equal with other witches and wizards under the Dark Lord's rule, no matter what I do. Besides, if I had ratted you out, why would I come here now? Why tell you about it? I'd be better off letting you all be caught off-guard. It doesn't make any sense."
"She's my friend," Lavender added, glaring at Zacharias and Vane. "And if anyone else wants to accuse her of betraying us, they can take it up with my wand."
Thankfully, nobody took her up on the offer. Lavender sometimes got dismissed as a silly gossip, but she'd trained along with the rest of the original DA back in fifth year under Harry's tutelage, and she was more than capable of causing some pain if she had motivation - as were most of the others in the room. It could be potentially disastrous if they broke out into infighting.
"How long do we have?" Colin asked, clutching Dennis's shoulder.
"There's no stated time frame," Dean said hoarsely. "And if Malfoy managed to get this sent off today… You-Know-Who's probably reading it tonight. Maybe now." He paused, then turned to face Neville, expression pleading. "I don't want to put it off any longer. Please, Nev. Let me swear to you."
The room was suddenly in uproar. Students began splitting into groups as muggleborns followed Dean's lead and crowded around their pureblooded friends. Parvati and Padma were with Lavender and Lisa Turpin; the Hufflepuffs drew up around Susan, Hannah, Zacharias, and Ernie; and the Ravenclaws were in a loose cluster, watching the other groups form, assessing their options with nervous eyes. Neville quickly found himself surrounded by not just Dean, but the Creeveys and Davis. And in between, the halfbloods watched the chaos unfold with worried faces and hunched shoulders. The room had suddenly become loud as the panic sank its teeth into the assembled students, provoking them to emotional entreaties and a thousand overlapping questions.
"This is madness," Neville whispered to himself, clutching his stomach at the scene.
"Quiet!" Susan bellowed over the noise. "Quiet, everyone! If we're doing this, it's going to be organized, not in a panic! Quiet and let's talk it over!"
Neville couldn't be more grateful as, gradually, the chaos subsided. Susan glanced at him, pursed her lips, and turned back to the rest of the room.
"We haven't talked over the details of this plan, so let's do it now," she said, taking a forced deep breath. "Is everyone clear on what a vassal oath actually is?"
Most everyone nodded. It had been explained when they'd first put the idea out there.
"Good. Now, you could swear that type of oath to anybody, but the oath on its own isn't going to protect you from You-Know-Who. It will be the respectability and power that the family your swear to possesses. So, in other words, it probably won't do you any good to swear to, say…" she hesitated.
"My family," Ginny offered, a slight wry twist of her lips showing that she didn't take offense at it.
"Exactly," Susan said. "The idea is to swear to someone You-Know-Who will at least respect enough not to try to kill outright - a family he'd want to preserve because of their lineage, prestige, and power. In addition, the person you swear to has to be willing, because you want them to swear a reciprocal oath that helps to protect you against them abusing their power. And finally, they need to be the head of their house or the heir, and they need to be of age, in order for the oath to take to their whole family."
Neville crossed his arms, finding himself suddenly cold. His stomach was in knots. He was glad Susan had taken over, because he hadn't come to terms with this being their reality yet, and he didn't think he'd manage a single word of explanation without stuttering. He was avoiding looking at the muggleborns around him. Housemates, friends. People who wanted to trust him to protect them. Him, who'd just about fainted when Snape had chewed him out about grades just a few days ago. Him, who, up until just over a year ago, had believed that he would never accomplish anything magically to be proud of. Him, who was expected to take over his house soon, who'd grown up without his dad to tell him how. He wasn't worthy of their faith.
"So who fits those parameters?" a younger Ravenclaw asked.
"Myself, Susan, and Neville," Ernie said.
"Me as well," Padma Patil said. She gave Ernie a scathing look. "Just because the Patils don't hold a Wizengamot seat doesn't mean we're insignificant."
"Sorry, slipped my mind," Ernie said, not seeming to much care. "Perhaps once your family has been here for more than a generation or two it'll be easier to remember."
"Shut it, Ernie," Susan snapped.
He huffed, but didn't argue.
Susan turned to address the room again. "There's also a few others in Slytherin, but their families have all sided with You-Know-Who, so I wouldn't bother with them. The Longbottoms, Bones, and MacMillans are all allies with each other, among other houses previously affiliated with Dumbledore. I'm not sure about the Patils."
"We're officially neutral, not that it comes up much," Padma said, arms crossed. "We deal primarily in business, not politics."
Ernie scoffed, but a look from Susan prevented him from voicing any further opinions.
"I believe all four of us are open to accepting oaths," Susan continued, glancing around at the named purebloods for confirmation. Neville swallowed, but nodded when her eyes met his to confirm. "If you have any questions about us or our families please talk to us. I know we're short on time but this is a choice you can't take back, so be sure of your decision before you do anything. And if you choose not to swear to anyone, that's a perfectly respectable decision as well."
She turned to talk to Ernie quietly. The rest of the Hufflepuffs in the room gathered around them tightly, no doubt tackling the sordid business together.
The rest of the room began to split apart again, a low, anxious murmur of conversation rising. Neville forced himself to turn to his own group. Dean, of course, was the first to meet his eyes, looking determined. Colin and Dennis were right there with him, arms wrapped around each other's backs. Davis was a step or two away, but she watched Neville like a hawk, unwilling to let him escape.
Seamus, Ginny, Flynn, and many of the other Gryffindors were approaching, as well.
"Well?" Dean asked.
Neville swallowed, trying to moisten his throat.
"I'll accept your oath," he said hoarsely. "But I'm going to have to talk to the others here, so let's… let's do it back in the dorm so we can get all this done before curfew, yeah?"
Dean nodded, mollified, and stepped to the side. Neville looked at the Creeveys.
"Same for you both."
They nodded and joined Dean. Nevile turned his attention to Davis next.
"Why are you set on swearing to me?" he asked her.
She took a deep breath. "There aren't many options, to start with. I researched all the heirs in Hogwarts when I was researching the oaths. The ones in Slytherin were ruled out immediately. I ruled out the MacMillans quickly after - they're big and old, but the head is senile and the heir isn't well-respected. Ernie's currently second in line, after his father, and he reminds me of Malfoy."
Neville nearly choked at the comparison.
"Tell me I'm wrong. They're both braggarts convinced of their own importance just because their family is old and rich. And Ernie looks down on people who don't meet the same standards, same as Malfoy."
"You're… not wrong," Neville said weakly. "I don't think Ernie's going to join You-Know-Who, though."
"He's not going to stand his ground against him, either," Davis said. "Their voting history is inconsistent - they have a tradition of using their votes to curry political favors instead of standing on any principles."
Neville nodded. His Gran had said something similar about the MacMillans, and he knew that she didn't have a high opinion of them as a whole.
"The Bones are, like Susan admitted, so damaged by the last war that there's hardly anything of the house left. Amelia Bones is well respected, but she also has a target on her back, and if she's taken out it'll be just Susan left. I respect her, but no one our age can lead an entire house on their own, especially in this political climate."
Neville had to nod, again, hands clenching in sympathy for Susan's position.
"And the Patils are more concerned with profit than principle," Davis finished. "I get the sense that if the family head was pushed over harboring muggleborns, he'd sooner hand us over to the Dark Lord than stand up for us."
Neville didn't know Mr. Patil very well, so he couldn't really agree or disagree with Davis. He sighed heavily.
"My family isn't much better positioned that the Bones," he said. "I've got more relatives, but most of them are getting on in years. In another decade or two, it's probably just going to be me and some distant cousins who don't even have the Longbottom name. And I've probably got a target on my back, too."
"You at least have some wealth on your side," Davis countered. "And your grandmother doesn't seem like she's about to bite the dust any time soon. She's a lot more politically active than Amelia Bones, as well, so you've got a better coach in your corner than Susan does. Plus you do have more surviving relatives who could, theoretically, help you out if something were to happen to her. Besides that, you've already proved you're a leader and that you'll put yourself at risk to protect others. That's not something my house usually admires, but for someone in my position… You're the only option I think I could trust."
Neville swallowed.
"I'm sure, Longbottom. As long as you'll have me, I want to swear to you."
Neville found he couldn't do anything but nod.
There were more after her. Gryffindors, mostly, in younger years. Duncan Miller and Sarah Polke, sixth years. Alisha Richter and Anne Langley, a fifth and a fourth year. Peter Anderson, a third year. Collectively, they knew of two more Gryffindor muggleborns not in the DA already because they were too young - Ricky Tate and Katie Miller, both first years. Neville would need to talk to them once they were in the common room.
Then there was the surprise of two Ravenclaws.
"I thought you were a halfblood," Neville said as he noticed Michael Corner lingering, with clear intent to talk. Fey Dunbar was next to him. Neville couldn't remember what her blood status was.
"If you're being generous, sure," Michael said. "I only have one magical parent and she's a muggleborn. My dad and little sister aren't magical at all. The Ministry hasn't decided on the difference between a muggleborn and a halfblood yet, so…" He shrugged. "I don't know if they're going to come after me or not."
"You want to swear your life away without knowing?" Neville asked.
Michael winced. "It's not a chance. Not really. I know they're going to go after my mum, if they haven't already, and who knows what they'll do to my dad and sister. I need protection for my family."
Fey reached out and threaded her fingers through Michael's. He glanced at her, then back to Neville.
"Is that something you can do?"
Neville swallowed.
"Your mum would be considered the head of your family, by magic," he said cautiously. "Are you the oldest magical child?"
Michael nodded. "Just me and my little sister."
"Then you're the heir. So… yes. You'd be able to swear on behalf of your family. But is this something they've agreed to?"
"I haven't been able to get any word out to them," Michael said tersely. "But I know my mum would agree. She was asking me over the summer if I had any influential friends that could help protect me if things got worse - she was a Slytherin herself, you know." He glanced at Davis, giving her a small nod.
"And she doesn't know anyone?" Neville asked.
Michael scoffed. "She went back to the muggle world as soon as she graduated Hogwarts. The first war was only a few years away and the tensions were high, so she didn't make many friends at school, and by the time she graduated she didn't see the point in trying to stay in a world that didn't really accept her. Didn't stop the Ministry from tracking her down and making her go through the registration, though."
Neville clenched his fist at how deep the rot in their world went.
"I don't know if I can protect you," Neville said. "Or your family. I'm just as constrained by all the new laws as anyone else."
"Davis is right. They're a lot more likely to accept a family like mine if we're just servants to purebloods," Michael said. "My family doesn't have the means to get out of Britain, or to go into hiding. This is our only option."
"Alright," Neville accepted, a chill running down his spine as he accepted it, just as had happened with all the others he'd promised to protect. He glanced at Fey, who was still holding Michael's hand. "What about you?"
"I'm pretty solidly half-blood," Fey said tentatively. "I don't think they're going to come after me. But, Michael and I have been talking about getting engaged after school. So…"
"You shouldn't swear fealty to anyone, then," Neville said firmly. "Keep your options open while you can. If you and Michael do get engaged, then… we'll have to have a conversation then. But for now, you're relatively safe. You'd only be putting yourself in unnecessary danger by affiliating with me."
She looked conflicted still, and glanced to Michael.
"I told you that you don't need to for me," he said lowly. "I need to, you don't. There's no shame in that."
She nodded slowly, biting her lip, and squeezed his hand. "If you're sure."
Michael nodded. "It looks like everyone else is getting ready to head back. Why don't you go with them. I'll see you in the common room."
She nodded reluctantly, parting from him with one last squeeze. She joined with a clump of Ravenclaws gathered near the doors. A glance showed Parvati, Padma, Lavendar, and Lisa all in a tight hug, and by the tears on the girls' faces, Neville had to assume they'd already sworn their oaths. The Hufflepuffs had already left, probably to swear any oaths that needed to be sworn in their common room.
"Why didn't you want to swear to the Patils?" Neville asked Michael as Fey waited to leave with the rest of their house.
Michael curled his lip, seemingly torn between disgust and amusement.
"Padma's an ex. It didn't end well."
Neville couldn't help but snort a little bit at that. He wouldn't want to put himself at the mercy of a potentially vindictive ex-girlfriend, either. Especially not if he was thinking about getting engaged.
"Ready?" Davis asked, fingers twitching where they rested on her arm the only sign of her impatience.
Usually, they would also discuss what would be expected from the binding oaths they were about to swear. They'd discuss living arrangements, employment, taxes, and even military service. Under the circumstances, however… all that would have to be sorted out after the oaths were already taken. Neville wasn't going to turn anyone in need of protection away. This wasn't about mutual gain; it was about doing the right thing.
Which meant that this was it. This was the moment he'd been dreading. Neville wet his lips, wishing he'd be struck by some sort of genius idea here at the last moment that would allow them all to escape this fate.
Of course, it hadn't come in the past months, and it didn't come now.
"Ready," he rasped.
Davis didn't hesitate, lowering herself to one knee directly in front of him, surrounded by the rest of the DA's Gryffindors. She looked up at him unwaveringly, her deeply shadowed eyes full of stony resolution.
Neville extended his right hand to her, the one on which he wore the ring passed down through generations of his family's heads. He felt like it was tied to a cloud, keeping it afloat midair apart from his own will.
She drew her wand and held it in the flat of her palm. She clasped it between her own hand and Neville's, touching him gently, cautious of the warm skin-to-skin contact. Her wand seemed to jump between them, and he was too unfamiliar with its magic to tell whether it was in excitement or in revulsion.
Neville's eyes darted to their hands before he forced himself to meet her gaze again. He did not want to disrespect her determination, or the pride with which she was about to put herself under his authority.
Her voice, quiet but steady, startled him.
"What's your full name?"
He had to clear his throat. "Neville Frank Longbottom."
"Not Franklin?"
"N… no."
She smirked. "Strange for a pureblood to have such an informal name."
He huffed out a laugh. "It's after my dad. One of my Gran's only moments of informality."
She snorted, but the levity only lasted a moment.
"I, Tracey Alissa Davis, solemnly swear my loyalty, my life, and my wand to you, Neville Frank Longbottom, Lord of the House of Longbottom, for as long as I may live."
Just like that. Neville's breath hitched at the sensation of her cool magic grasping up towards his own, trying to link but not yet able to find purchase. It warmed the spot where their hands were clasped, more tightly now as both their bodies tensed with the importance of their actions.
His own voice was dry as he made himself speak the words to seal it.
"I, Lord Neville Frank Longbottom, do solemnly accept your vow, Tracey Alissa Davis."
His own magic snapped out towards Tracey's, seizing the searching tendrils and anchoring them to some deep center of his being that couldn't be pinpointed to somewhere physical. Neville and Tracey both gasped as the connection was forged. The bond was made. Yet Neville knew he had his own vow to make. These words he could say with true conviction.
"Tracey Alissa Davis, in return for your fealty and as Lord of my house, I swear upon my family's honor to protect you and yours to the best of my ability, for as long as I may live."
The connection forged by their magic seemed to burn brighter at the words. Neville's knees buckled for a split second as his magic surged within him, but he was able to catch himself to avoid falling. There was a… pulse between him and Tracey now. He could feel it, almost like a long, living hair extending away from his skin, lightly tugging at him with every fluctuation of Tracey's own magic.
He met her eyes again and found that she was clutching her hand to her chest, gasping.
"Thank you," she whispered shakily.
He swallowed thickly and reached down to support her other elbow, pulling her carefully back up to her feet.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She looked up with eyes quickly growing wet with tears.
"Yes," she whispered. "Thank you for the vow you made in return."
Neville nodded, swallowing. "Of course. Will you be able to get away to talk over details later?"
"Yes. Just tell me when."
"Most likely it will be at the next DA meeting. I'll ask Lavender to get word to you in whatever way you've both already been using."
Tracey nodded, swiping at her eyes quickly. "I'll keep this quiet. No one will hear what happened here from me, not until it's public knowledge."
"Thank you," he said quietly. "Curfew is getting close. You'll be safe on the way back?"
She smiled mirthlessly. "As much as I can be."
He nodded, heart clenching as she turned to go back to Slytherin house, a place full of her enemies. There was nothing he could do about that, yet, though.
"You all better start heading back, too," Neville said to the other Gryffindors still lingering. "Best to keep staggering our leaving."
He received a few reluctant nods, and the others started to drift away towards the door, leaving only Michael and Dean behind. Neville glanced at Dean, but saw from the set of his jaw that he wasn't about to leave Neville to head back to the common room alone. He was a good friend. He didn't deserve this.
"I guess the middle names and kneeling are essential?" Michael asked.
Neville grimaced. "Full names, yes. Kneeling… traditional. I don't know if it strengthens the vow or not."
"I guess this is something I probably shouldn't take chances on," Michael muttered. He hesitated, then lowered himself to one knee as Tracey had done, and more clumsily imitated the way she'd gripped Neville's hand with her wand in between. Michael's wand felt different, like it was buzzing with a frantic pulse.
They used the same oaths Neville and Tracey had. Neville swayed a little bit when it was done, his magic tossing within him as it stretched to accommodate two new connections within such a short time.
He still helped Michael to his feet, pulling him up by the hand that still held Michael's wand.
"We'll need to talk about your family more later," Neville said. "I don't think there's much I can do until the hols anyway, with the castle on lock-down, but we can make some plans for once we're able to make contact. But for now, like I told Davis…"
"Curfew's nearly here," Michael agreed. "Thanks, Longbottom. You'd better head back, too."
After that, Neville and Dean bid a grim goodbye to those who were in permanent hiding in the Room. Seamus gave Dean a particularly strong, prolonged hug before he left, with a look at Neville that Neville could only interpret as a firm "you better take care of him." Neville nodded in return, as firmly as he could with dread and anxiety writhing under his skin.
Neville and Dean didn't speak on their way back. Neville was thinking about the seven muggleborns - maybe nine, depending on the first years - in addition to Dean who were waiting to swear to him back in the common room. He'd soon have ten or more other teenagers counting on him directly to protect them from the worst dark lord England had ever seen.
And their families? How many had siblings or parents that could be targeted by You-Know-Who as well? The Longbottom family home had been built to accommodate a large number of people, both guests and servants, but Neville had always seen it as a relic of a time long-past. Now, they'd have to unseal the west wing, tidy it up - perhaps the old servants' quarters and halls, as well. They'd have to purchase more house-elves to help Paz and Dilly. And Neville would start needing to pay serious attention to the revenue brought in by the estate and the family business contracts. It had never been a worry before, with just his and Gran's expenses, but they were about to be responsible for many more souls.
He'd need to strengthen his family's alliances, too. Had to make his own House strong to bolster others with confidence so they wouldn't fold to the new Ministry's agenda so easily. He should really try to spend some more time with those who were from his allied families in Hogwarts.
His stomach turned. He should probably start thinking about marrying. As soon as he had the thought, he knew who the ideal candidate would be, too - and had a feeling she'd agree with him. But, Merlin, he couldn't… couldn't think about that just yet. He had to get through these oaths before anything else, and then figure out his new vassal's needs, and then make a plan from there. Anything more and he'd be overwhelmed.
Who was he kidding? He was already overwhelmed.
Dean walked with his head turned down, frowning, arms wrapped around himself. Neville felt he should say something, but what could he, really? What would even be appropriate for him to say, when he was soon to be an authority figure and not just a friend?
They were the last two back, and from the way everyone was gathered in the common room, craning their necks as Neville and Dean entered, they all already knew what was happening. It was unnaturally quiet; the muggleborns Neville had already spoken to were congregated in a tight group near the front, looking nervous.
"Over here, Neville," Parvati said, voice carrying in the quiet room despite the fact that she didn't raise it. She was standing next to an empty armchair - a puffy-eyed Lavender next to her - near the fireplace. It was the same one Hermione had favored for reading when Ron had managed to drag Harry into a game of chess, and Neville's heart momentarily clenched at the reminder of more missing friends.
There was nothing particularly remarkable about the chair. It was a red-and-gold upholstered wingback with carved wooden legs shaped to resemble lion's paws. Yet, considering Neville was about to accept more fealty oaths, it suddenly looked too much like a throne.
"I don't need to sit," Neville said, voice rasping.
"Padma said it was exhausting just accepting one oath," Parvati argued. "You've already done two and you've got eight more coming."
Lavender nodded, arms crossed, and glanced at Dean. Dean huffed and grabbed Neville's arm. Neville's protests died on his tongue as Dean dragged him over to the chair and pushed him down into it.
"You might be a lord, but you're not going to be the lord of stupid decisions," Dean said. "You haven't looked steady the whole way back. You'll pass out if you try to do this standing." He looked around the room. "Does anyone have a reinvigoration draught? Or some chocolate?"
"I've got a draught," one of the sixth-year boys said, looking mildly uncomfortable as he said so. "I'll get it."
A few others had some chocolate. Within a minute, Dean was handing the uncorked invigoration draught to Neville, while a small collection of chocolates was amassed on a nearby side table.
Neville thought only for a moment about arguing before giving it up with a sigh. The citrus taste of the draught sent energy racing through his limbs, snapped his eyes fully open and buzzed in his fingertips. He found himself sitting up straighter even as his thoughts began to race faster.
He hadn't felt so energetic in months. He'd forgotten how amazing an invigoration draught could be, since he'd only ever had them from Madame Pomfrey when suffering a cold, and he didn't get sick very often.
"Right. Let's do this," Dean said, meeting Neville's eyes. Neville had expected to see resignation or anxiety there, but there was only determination.
Neville clenched his fist and nodded.
Dean knelt in front of him, wand out, mimicking both Tracey and Michael, and before Neville could blink, he was speaking, words spoken so easily that Neville instantly knew Dean had been memorizing them for awhile.
"I, Dean Alan Thomas, solemnly swear my loyalty, my life, and my wand to you, Neville Frank Longbottom, for as long as I may live."
Though he hadn't wanted to, Neville had found himself reading over the vow he'd picked out to respond with should the worst occur so often that he'd memorized his part, too. It came even more easily now that he'd already repeated it twice for Tracey and Michael.
"I, Neville Frank Longbottom, do solemnly accept your vow, Dean Alan Thomas -"
As before, Neville could feel the moment his magic and Dean's came together. It was gentler with Dean than it had been with either of the two before, twining their cores together with the trust between them smoothing the way. A shudder ran down Neville's spine, but he held Dean's eyes and continued.
"- and, as Lord of my house and in return for your fealty, I swear upon my family's honor to protect you and yours to the best of my ability for as long as I may live."
Dean's hand tightened in Neville's, and he let out a soft exhale as their magic finally began to settle between them.
Neville focused on breathing for a moment, as well. Despite the help of the invigoration draught, making a third oath had definitely drained some of his energy, and the way his magic was stretching and jumping had him rubbing his chest.
When he lifted his eyes again to Dean, he saw that Dean had tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Neville blurted, though quiet.
Dean squeezed Neville's hand. "I'm relieved, Nev. And I know how much you didn't want to do this, but you did it anyway, for me, for us. You had my loyalty even without an oath."
Neville found it hard to swallow around the lump in his throat. He didn't know what to say, so he pulled on Dean's hand to draw his friend up into a tight hug. Much to his relief, Dean squeezed back without hesitation. Neville realized he'd been afraid that he'd lose this - friendship - because of the oaths. But maybe that wasn't going to be the case.
The reassurance of his friend returning the gesture seemed to open the way for the right words to respond.
"… And you had mine."
They parted, and Dean smiled.
Colin was next. Then Dennis. They joined Dean right behind Neville's back when they were done, Colin rubbing at his chest and Dennis breathing heavily. Dean pushed a half-bar of Honeyduke's chocolate into Neville's hand when he caught Neville swaying where he sat, the benefits of the invigoration draught used up by the three fresh magical linkages.
Neville didn't argue. The room was twisting at the edges, but the rich taste of the chocolate helped to settle it. It wasn't nearly as good as the invigoration draught, but it helped enough that he could keep his eyes open and speak clearly for Duncan Miller's oath.
Neville gave Duncan's hand a reassuring squeeze when they were done, though his dizziness had come back with a vengeance as soon as he'd formally accepted Duncan's fealty. He felt more chocolate being pushed into his hand and ate it automatically, breathing heavily between bites and leaning his head against the side of the chair.
He couldn't remember how many more there were, but at this rate, it seemed as if Dean might have been right to think Neville was in danger of passing out before they were done.
After a few minutes and a drink of water (handed to him by somebody, but Neville wasn't really paying full attention to his surroundings any more) he managed to sit back upright and nodded to Sarah Polke, who was next. She had tears streaking her cheeks as they went through the vow, but once it was done she lunged forward to hug Neville more tightly than he'd ever been held by a girl. He was dizzy enough that he was just grateful for the extra support in staying upright. When she had moved aside (he didn't really recall when that had happened) another cool glass of water was in his hand along with another portion of chocolate. He ate and drank, willing everything to stop spinning.
When it was at least slowed down a few minutes later, he nodded unsteadily to Alisha Richter and managed to rasp his way through another set of vows. He fell back once it was done, sucking in gasps of air as the room tilted wildly.
Dean was in front of him, peering worriedly into Neville's face.
"-rink," he was insisting. His hand pushed on Neville's, urging it up to his face. Oh. There was more water there.
Neville obeyed blearily, hand shaking, and water dribbled from the corners of his mouth because of his clumsiness. People were talking around him, but he only caught bits and pieces. Something about magical exhaustion. Something about resting, waiting.
"No," he said, forcing himself to sit as close to upright as he could manage again. The room was still spinning, but it had slowed again, somewhat, from the brief rest. "We have to finish."
"You're going to pass out," Parvati's seemingly disembodied voice said.
"'M fine," Neville mumbled. "I will be. Have to be. Give me some more chocolate."
More candy found its way into his hand and he chewed it methodically, willing it to be enough for another oath. His magic was so tight, reaching out in so many directions, that it was growing difficult to focus on his physical senses. His breath kept hitching in his chest and his body almost felt like it were being lifted away from the chair. But when he squeezed his fingers, they closed on the chair's arm.
"-least take a break," Dean was saying. "Take a short nap."
"Can't," Neville forced his mouth to say. He didn't think it came out quite right. A hand pushed him back in the chair, and his head bumped against the chair's back. He stared up at the painted ceiling, which at least seemed to spin more slowly than the walls did.
They were still talking. Neville closed his eyes, the voices fading out.
Someone shook his shoulders. He heard his name as if from a long way away.
His eyes snapped open. Dean was in front of him, arms stretched up to keep Neville from falling forward, propped by his shoulders.
"Wha's…" Neville slurred, disoriented. He felt so heavy.
"It's early morning," Dean said. Neville, confused, glanced around and saw the low-burning lamps and fire. All the people that had been present before seemed to have vanished into thin air, leaving just himself and Dean.
"What…"
"We had to let you sleep," Dean explained. "But breakfast will be starting in an hour, so I thought we'd try to get the last two oaths done before then."
"Two?" Neville mumbled, lifting a hand that felt more like a clumsy block of wood to rub at his eyes.
"Anne and Peter," Dean said.
It felt like there was a weight on Neville's chest, making it harder to breathe. But the fuzz was beginning to clear away from his mind, enough for him to fully understand what Dean had been saying. He'd fallen asleep.
And they hadn't finished. Anne and Peter, the two youngest, were still at risk. And… Neville had never spoken to the first years, either.
"What about the firsties?" he asked.
"They're going to the Room," Dean said quietly. "A couple of the others are going to take them over to it during breakfast."
And those volunteers probably suffer torture for showing up late to the meal themselves. Neville swallowed. The volunteers wouldn't be muggleborns, if anybody involved in the discussion had any sense. They always got punished worse. He decided not to ask - most DA members were smart and experienced enough to organize that effort, and Neville had enough to deal with right then.
"Where are Peter and Anne?" Neville asked, pushing himself to sit fully upright from where he'd been heavily slumped in the chair. A blanket tumbled away from his chest to lay draped over his legs, barely holding on to the bump of his knees.
"Coming down," Dean said. "They went to sleep, too."
How much had they gotten, worrying over whether Neville would have the energy to go through the fealty vows with them, wondering if they would wake in the morning to news that You-Know-Who was enslaving them to his death eaters?
"How are you?" Dean asked pointedly.
Still exhausted. He had a headache pushing in on his brain and his limbs felt weighted with sandbags. He was less aware of his magical core than he'd been before falling asleep, but when he thought of it he could still feel how depleted and strained it felt. Perhaps a little less so than it had been before falling asleep, but still in need of replenishing. There was nothing for that except time and rest.
"I'll be okay," he told Dean.
"Right, so, that means still wiped out," Dean said. He frowned, crossing his arms. "We should figure out a way for you to skip classes today."
Neville shook his head. With attendance being tracked so rigidly at mealtimes as well as classes, the Carrows would be onto Neville's absence before their first class period, and they couldn't afford the scrutiny.
He'd think about how he'd get through the day later. For now, he could hear footsteps descending one of the staircases. When he turned, Peter was there, hands twisting together in front of him and his eyes wide with nerves.
"You're sure you want to do this instead of going into hiding?" Neville asked, even though they'd discussed the option at their DA meetings, and most agreed that hiding in the Room wasn't a viable long-term solution to the muggleborns' plight. The hidden students were effectually imprisoned, and nobody had any idea how they were going to smuggle the fugitives out of the castle when summer came. And if they managed to get out of Hogwarts, they would still have to contend with You-Know-Who's ministry.
The Room was a temporary sanctuary for wanted students and students too young to even wanta first kiss. Neville hoped that a miracle would happen and You-Know-Who could be defeated before the end of the school year, and the firsties wouldn't be forced to swear their autonomy away before they could even understand it. But it was just a hope.
Peter knew that. He'd been at the DA meetings, too.
"There's nothing else to do, is there?" Peter walked towards Neville, lurching as if making himself move was hard. He was only thirteen himself. Stocky for his age, but still so small as he came up to Dean's side.
Anne appeared in the stairwell from the girl's dorms, then, too. Another fourth-year girl was with her, squeezing her shoulder in support.
Five minutes later, there were no muggleborns left in Hogwarts over twelve years old who were free.