34

Chapter 34: Left to Know

Before fully understanding where he was or what he was seeing, Hasan had the indescribable feeling of somehow having been here before. The floor, when he deigned to glance down, was smooth clean black tile. He vaguely wondered how anyone could keep floors this clean, unless of course there was no one at all. But if it this place was indeed abandoned, why did the air seem to bear down on him in ghostlike wisps and whispers?

Wait, was there something shining in the floor? Hasan blinked. No. The glass-like tiles were merely reflecting something which was above. Something which was in front...

The one who knows the ways of half its kind...with the power...reaches a crossroads...to vanquish...half-love...the Dark Lord...seventh month dies...seventh moon...

Hasan jerked his head up, eyes filled with the scene of innumerable rows of shelves, each with countless glowing glass orbs, prophecies swirling within them! But which one was his? One of them had to be his, right? Dumbledore had published it to be so in his first year:

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.

So then, where would his be? Hasan began to walk. His legs carried him, ghostlike, through the aisles, as his bright emerald eyes scanned the labels. He would be listed under P, for Potter, he thought, continuing to search. P...P...P...ahah! Here it was: a dusty orb with the label:

S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D

Dark Lord

and (?) Harry Potter

Hasan was drawn by that unknowable instinct to reach out for it- to touch the prophecy that would probably consume most of his adult life- but stopped himself. Something felt off...When he glanced up at the spun-glass orb again, he was astonished to find that the color swirling inside was no longer white but a brilliant, beautiful gold! He mentally cursed himself for his hesitation. Had he just reached for it, this would never have happened! Mentally vowing not to hesitate this time, he snatched the orb from the shelf.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," someone said. A slow, demeaning clap began. "Now give it to me."

Hasan slowly turned around, strangely fearless in his dream, prophecy clasped tight in his palm.

Then there was a gasp.

"IDIOT BOY!" the Dark Lord growled, though his exact figure was obscure and more of a mass of dark evilness. "THAT IS NOT OUR PROPHECY! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

Hasan looked down at his hands, wondering whose prophecy it was, when he was abruptly jerked from his lovely dream.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Who the Hell was knocking on his door? Hasan sat up immediately, rubbing some salt from the corners of his jade eyes.

"Hasan!" it was Draco. "Daphne's been bothering me all morning. She finally wore me down. She wants to speak with you."

Hasan blinked. "About what?" he called as he quickly pulled on his robes.

"How should I know?" Draco sighed dramatically outside his door. "Girls..."

"Tell her I'll be out in a second," Hasan said, slipping on his shoes. It was only six o'clock, classes didn't start until 7:30! What had gotten her all in a rush? The possibilities worried him.

Within seconds, Hasan was out the door, nearly knocking Draco to the ground as he tried to find the troubled Daphne. Draco stared after him in awe. Was there something going on between them? Not that he cared for Daphne anyway, Tracey was more his type, but perhaps there was a deeper meaning to why they were together outside of Madam Puddifoot's last Hogsmeade Weekend. But wasn't Hasan going out with that Luna girl? Draco shook his head ruefully. When thinking about Hasan's potential love interests he could almost forget he was about to sell him to the devil. It was just a matter of time.

.oOo.

Hasan entered the common room calmly, but his jade eyes told a different story as they searched frantically for the black haired girl. He shoved thoughts of his previous nightmare aside as he prepared to deal with a coming storm.

Daphne and he didn't talk much outside of their social group, so to get such an immediate request to see him this early in the morning left little doubt as to what the conversation could be about. He found her sitting nonchalantly in the corner of the room, knee bouncing furiously up and down in that fidgety way of hers. He approached her slowly, trying not to draw too much attention to himself, in case some nosy Slytherin decided that this was worth eavesdropping on.

"Daphne?" he whispered as he sat down beside her on the couch.

"Oh." She turned her head to face him, and he could see her black eyes look a bit distant- thoughtful. "Can we...go somewhere else?" she asked.

"Where?"

"Anywhere private."

Hasan glanced at the clock. "Classes will start in an hour. Is that enough time?"

"I ate already," she said.

He looked at her in some surprise. So she had been up already. Doing what? Worrying probably.

"Okay, I know a place where we can go."

.oOo.

"I need a place where we can talk in private... I need a place where we can talk in private... I need a place where we can talk in private..." Hasan thought repeatedly, not caring that Daphne was ogling at him with her mouth agape.

She was surprised to say the least when Hasan had led her to a seemingly unmarked corridor and started pacing about a few times. But the look of concentration was so great on his face that she was loath to interrupt. What if he actually knew a thing or two?

When Hasan finally stopped his pacing beside her, all her questions seemed to catch in her throat as a door suddenly- magically- appeared where there had been solid wall before.

"This is the Room of Requirement," Hasan told her simply, reading the confusion on her face.

And suddenly, she had a lot more questions.

"So what is this place?" Daphne asked, the door shutting behind them and dissolving seamlessly back into the wall. "And how do you know about it?"

Hasan ignored her for the moment, carefully approaching a long black couch which faced its twin. He carefully took his seat, gesturing for her to do the same.

"It's called the come-and-go room," Hasan began and the girl settled herself. "You have to walk by the room three times, concentrating intently on what you want the room to be or have. I've used this room as a training room before...but today I simply asked it to provide a safe place for talking."

Her forehead wrinkled as she thought about the possibility of such a room existing- which it so clearly did- and how it could have been used in the past. How many people knew about it? Did Dumbledore? Did McGonagall? Did her parents?

"That is...really amazing," she finally stammered.

Hasan nodded in agreement. "A house-elf mentioned it one day. I found it fascinating at least...so you wanted to discuss something?"

"Oh..." Daphne bit her lip, glancing around the room for perhaps inspiration.

Hasan sighed. It was clear by the look on her face that Daphne clearly wanted to discuss something, but was unsure of how to broach the subject. Hasan, who obviously did not know the conversation topic at hand, was at a loss on how to start as well. Finally, they both started at once:

"So I was thinking-"

"You wanted to talk about-?"

Both shut their mouths quickly, grinning shyly at each other.

"Alright, you go first since you woke me up this morning," Hasan said, trying to make it sound like a casual joke, (but he really was upset about getting his dream disrupted.)

"Yeah...haha...sorry about that," Her eyes glazed over a bit. "So, Hasan, do you remember the other night when...when we took Neville down to the dungeons?"

Hasan nodded, his heart sinking a bit as he realized where the conversation would most likely lead. How could he forget? Neville broken, bloodied, bruised. Recovering in Snape's quarters when the floo flared to life.

"Yes, well," Daphne continued, clearing her throat. "Were you awake when Professor Dumbledore came in and started talking with Professor Snape?"

Hasan nodded again.

"Did you get the impression that Snape was..." she took a deep breath, "...implying that perhaps Neville Longbottom was not...that is to say-" She seemed at a loss for words. The meaning hung painfully obvious in the air between them.

"The Boy-Who-Lived?" Hasan provided lightly.

Her face snapped to his. "Yes. That's exactly it," Her lips quirked upward at his comprehension.

"Why is it so hard to say?" Hasan enquired gently.

"Well, it's just that it's crazy, isn't it? I mean, Neville is the Boy-Who-Lived, right? Everyone says so. The headmaster says so! You might think I've gone mad insinuating such a radical theory!" she was flushed with excitement, delighted to be understood.

Hasan swallowed. She put him in a very difficult position and now he had a VERY simple choice to make. One, betray her trust and shut this down right now. Or two, tell her she was completely barmy. Barking mad. Make her promise never to speak of this again...OR an option three. Perhaps he could indulge her a bit. Slip a bit. Not lie just for a second. A second! Well honestly, how much damage could he do really?

"I don't think you're crazy," Hasan finally said.

"You- don't?" she replied dubiously, eyebrow quirked.

"Well, you seem of sound mind to me," he smiled jokingly.

Daphne released a heavy sigh.

"Look, Hasan. I've been thinking about what Professor Snape said. He accused the headmaster of creating the Boy-Who-Lived and that isn't an allegation made lightly. And on top of that, Professor Dumbledore seemed remorseful. As if- as if Snape was telling the truth. I've...I've been looking things up the past few days. Reading old Daily Prophets, you know, and I think I've found something a bit hard to believe." Her voice became a whisper as she reached into her pockets and pulled out copies of old newspapers.

Hasan began to sweat. This was not how he imagined this would go. She had found proof? PROOF? If Daphne had access to this, then surely everyone else did too! Was Dumbledore stupid?

"Here, I'll read it to you," she said, smoothing out the pages. "This first one, which dates back to November 1st, 1981 –the day after the Dark Lord fell- says this: It is presumed that the killing curse cast from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's wand had rebounded off the head of the now orphaned infant Harry Potter and killed You-Know-Who, effectively ending this reign of terror. Harry Potter, who is but one year old, now bears the lightning bolt scar, marking him forevermore in Wizarding history as the Boy-Who-Lived."

Hasan bit his lip. He had never actually bothered to look up any old Daily Prophets, having had the misfortune of picking one up in his youth and nearly vomiting. Now he regretted that decision. Daphne, technically, knew more about him than he did!

"And then here's this one, written by the same woman, Rita Skeeter, from only two years ago: Neville Longbottom, a handsome young boy of eleven, has just finished his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although raised by his single grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, Neville has shown unparalleled talent in the dangerous and very intellectually challenging field of Herbology. What the Wizarding World does not yet know is that this cheery young boy has already saved the Wizarding world from the evil clutches of You-Know-Who! Yes! Neville Longbottom, as prophesized by the famed seer Sybill Trelawney, is our world's Boy-Who-Lived! For those still needing proof, here is undeniable evidence from Albus Dumbledore himself! 'I have had the great fortune,' Albus told me confidentially over an amicable mug of hot chocolate, 'to listen to the great Sybill Trelawney as she made her most famous prophecy. This information is not to be taken lightly, but for you Rita, I will be pleased to share a piece of the original prophecy: The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.' "

Hasan did his best not to swallow too loudly, but he was certain his Adam's apple had down a cartwheel.

"Do you see what this means?" Daphne asked him excitedly. "It means that somehow, the Boy-Who-Lived's mantle transferred from Harry Potter to Neville Longbottom, and the Ministry of Magic and most likely the staff of Hogwarts are in on it!"

Hasan could not stop himself from choking this time. "That's quite the conjecture to make," Hasan observed as mildly as he could.

"Yes, but...what else can I possibly think? Albus Dumbledore was quoted in this article!"

Hasan thought quickly, averting his eyes. "Well, there is this new theory going around that Neville is named the Boy-Who-Lived because the prophecy referred to both him and Harry Potter and clearly Neville is the only one living."

Daphne frowned at him. "But why is Neville even involved anyway? It was always just Harry Potter. But Harry's missing now..."

Before her brain could work out the rest-and Hasan had no doubt that she could- Hasan interrupted.

"The prophecy did say born as the seventh month dies, right? And Neville is born in July, you know. You've been invited to his parties same as me." Hasan let out a sigh of relief. There, that should throw her off.

"But there are loads of people who are born in July!" Daphne shouted. "Like YOU!"

"Yes well..." Hasan mumbled, mentally slapping himself. "You've got a point there." Shit! Shit! Shit!

Daphne smiled triumphantly. "So you believe me then?"

"Didn't I say I thought you weren't crazy?" Hasan attempted to joke again, but his insides were frozen. That was close. Too dangerously close. If she linked Hasan Castell to Harry Potter, then both he and Harry were dead. Absolute goners.

"Yeah, well," she blushed. "I just had to be sure." She sighed, stretching her arms out behind her. "I'm glad we can be frank with each other in this room," she said, admiring the white upholstery.

"Yeah," Hasan lied, swallowing. "It's nice."

.oOo.

"YOU CREATED THE BOY-WHO-LIVED AND YET YOU REFUSE TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR HIS SAFETY!"

Neville moaned in his sleep.

Created.

CREATED.

Boy-who-...lived.

To lie.

To fight for the path of Gryffindor.

Bravery...

"YOU CREATED..."

The sharp bitter voice of the Potions Master reverberated in his memory. Bits and fragments mingling with the pounding of his head. Who had Snape been talking to? The headmaster, right? Albus had come and chanted him to sleep...

Neville rolled over on his side, only to find that his arm was restricted in a cast...Created...yes, sometimes Neville forgot he was created. He moaned again, something hurt. His arm probably.

His head? He couldn't be sure.

"Neville? Neville?" was that? No. It had to be coming from his dream. Who was waking him at this ungodly hour?

"Neville? Neville? Neeeevvvilll-"

Why wasn't it stopping? He was tired? Why was a voice still talking to him if he was tired! Suddenly he felt a sharp pinch in his arm.

"OWW-!" Neville jerked awake, rubbing his hand on reflex as his eyes quickly blinked shut, unused to the bright white of the Hospital Wing. Before he did so however, he glimpsed someone at the side of his bed. A girl. Oh, Merlin! He hoped it wasn't Ginny, he couldn't stand to hear her this early in the morning!

"Neville? Sorry! I just wanted you to wake up! Madam Pomfrey says that you need to take a potion anyway in a few minutes, and besides you were having a nightmare...or something."

Neville blushed as he reopened his eyes. Phew! It was Daphne, glowing with beauty in the morning light. Her dark black hair was draped elegantly over one shoulder and-

"Neville? Neville, are you even listening to me?"

"I- what?"

Daphne sighed.

"I asked if you want to discuss what you were dreaming about...I hear you mumbling 'created' and 'created' over and over." She gazed at him with sympathetic black eyes.

"Oh, I don't know," Neville said, trying hard not to fidget. "It's just nonsense." He averted his eyes, not wanting her to see the transparency of his lie. He was scared. Scared out of his mind that perhaps Albus' foolproof plan wasn't that foolproof. It was hard enough to sometimes remember he wasn't the true savior of the Light. To have his crush potentially find out and...and...leave him? Think of him badly? Judge him? Call him a liar? He was terrified of the rejection. The rejection he was sure to get from Ginny if even an inkling of such a radical (and true) theory got out.

"Well..." Daphne took in a deep breath. "If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here." She licked her lips before awkwardly pointing to his bandaged arm with her entire forearm. "That. How is that doing?"

She inwardly cursed her eloquence or lack thereof.

"Oh?" Neville was grateful for the change of topic. "It feels loads better actually. I mean it hurt when I rolled on it this morning, but compared to that day." He ended with a sheepish grin. It hurt his ego to think of how weak he was to get beaten the muggle way. Merlin, would anyone actually by the farce now that he was the messiah of the Wizarding world once they heard of his epic defeat by girlfriend's sissy brother?

"It'll be healed in no time if you drink these," Daphne said, holding up two potions. Neville snapped out of his daze as she handed him one in a triangular flask. He tried to uncork it, but found that he couldn't even hold it with one arm. Thoroughly embarrassed and as bright red as a tomato, Neville looked down at his sheets.

"Here, I'll do it- I promise I won't tell," she added jokingly- almost flirtingly, as she easily uncorked the potion and brought it to his lips.

He took one whiff and promptly gagged.

"Oh, come on. It can't be that bad, Mr. Boy-Who-Lived," she laughed.

Neville quickly downed the potion to avoid responding to that, causing Daphne to frown but she didn't comment on it.

"Okay, this one next." She placed the first flask on the table and uncorked the second blue potion in seconds. "It's a simple pain reliever. It shouldn't taste that bad," she said soothingly.

Neville drank it obediently. Daphne smiled at him. "I'm so proud of you!" she cooed. "Oh, and by the way I brought your trunk down here...Don't worry I had Seamus Finnigan go in so I didn't intrude on your privacy. Anyway, he said he gathered all your stuff, but I don't know if I believe him because it is pretty light. I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I just thought you'd want it is all. Who knows when Madam Pomfrey will let you out of her sights and into that danger filled world again?"

Neville grinned broadly. "Thank you, Daphne. Really." He looked into her eyes and felt...something, but that something was too personal, too deep, too sappy to let it continue. He broke eye contact hastily, flushing all down his neck.

"Right, well. I should go. Potions first, you know?" she grabbed the empty vials and prepared to leave when Neville called out a spontaneous thank you. She paused in her movements, looking back at him one more time.

"I better not get Snape angry this early. Everyone will hate me," she said shortly, and exited a bit faster than could be considered natural.

Neville watched her with the peculiar feeling of desire. Was this what attraction felt like? Then why had he never experienced such a strong pull with Ginny? These thoughts occupied the back of his mind as he reached towards his trunk. He figured out pretty quickly that he didn't have the strength to haul it onto his bed, so instead he daringly lunged for his wand on the bedside table and levitated it onto his lap. He propped himself up with his pillow before opening his case.

It was nice, he decided, that Daphne had thought to bring this to him. He was almost relieved because now he knew that Ron couldn't go poking through his belongings. Using one hand, he unlocked both clasps and leaned back so he wouldn't hit his head when the case swung open. Ahh! Some black and brown to break up the sanitary white of the room! He dug in his trunk for a plain shirt to throw on, as his chest was bare save for many meters of bandages, when his hand touched a rather peculiar solid object. Oh no! Had Weasley gotten to his trunk before her? Had he planted something like a dungbomb or real bomb? It pulsated warmly in his palm, making him feel all at once calm and on high alert. It was as if it were trying to tell him something.

Removing the object from his trunk, he was shocked to find his had clasped around the remembrall his granny had bought him in his first year...a content smile settled on his face as he recalled how he was once just unpopular, awkward Neville. The kid that Draco Malfoy decided to pick on...the kid Hasan decided to fight for...Hasan had done that for him-Neville- without any of this Boy-Who-Lived stuff getting in the way. It simply didn't exist yet.

A feeling of guilt bubbled in Neville's stomach as he thought about how rude he had been to Hasan and Draco in the recent months. He felt the dull pain in his arm slowly fade as the potions took effect, but he almost wanted to feel the pain- to suffer for his stupidity. He just felt so incredibly guilty. How could he have been such a jerk? Boy-Who-Lived? Who lied more like! Created...created... Wait, if Snape had said that, then...did all the staff know? Was Neville the only one truly believing in this farce? Was Professor McGonagall actually still hoping for Harry Potter to return? Now he just felt foolish.

The nudging feeling was back, this time coming from his hand. Neville glanced down at the remembrall pulsing a bright scarlet red. Huh, that was odd. Wasn't it? Wasn't red supposed to mean-?

Neville swallowed audibly. What had he forgotten?

.oOo.

So Daphne suspected, Hasan mused sourly. No, she absolutely knew. Albus Dumbledore might be gifted at fooling the masses, but if a school girl could figure out the truth, then it was only a matter of time before someone else did too. And this was of the utmost concern to Hasan, because he did not need to feel guilty about his decisions in life. If suddenly the whole world decided that he was their only savior and begged for his return, then that would certainly be stressful!

The trouble was, the Dark Lord had already seen Hasan and already knew that he was Harry Potter. Sooner or later, the Dark Lord would make his move. According to Snape, the Dark Lord had yet to obtain a proper body, but that was only a matter of time! Hadn't Luna just told them that Draco and Barty were planning something with some unknown woman? Salazar, Hasan could be murdered any day now and no one would be the wiser as to who he really was!

Hasan, who prided himself just a bit on his calm composure, was feeling a little less than calm at the moment. He couldn't let anyone see him like this. It wasn't safe. He could return to his dorm, but why? There was nothing for him there. Even as he thought this, the moans were getting louder. The sound of water gushing filled his ears. Before realizing where his feet had taken him, Hasan was hissing Open.

The Chamber of Secrets was a place of battle at the end of his second year. One might wonder why he had even decided to return and hide a new snake inside its depths. Maybe because, like the name suggests, this was a place for secrets- for privacy- one which no one but himself (and perhaps Voldemort) could access. He walked slowly across the cold stone floor, casting a silent Lumos.

:Melusssine?: he hissed tentatively. Where was that snake? Where could she have gotten to? :Melusssine?:

Odd sounds, echoes from the school's plumbing, resounded from the walls which seemed to cave in on him. Perhaps this was not such a good idea...from deep within the chamber a soft sweeping sound could be heard. Hasan quirked his head to the side, trying to remember where he had heard that before. Something sweeping over stone...a snake! Hasan squinted into one of the tunnels, taking a step forward. He had originally thought the chamber was just that- a single room, but how many tunnels were there? And where did the lead?

:Hassssan? Isss that you?:

Hasan grinned broadly as his friend slithered into the light, under the ceiling of the main chamber.

:Yeah,: Hasan said, :It'ss me. Where were you?: He walked to the center of the room, in view of the giant head of Salazar, eyes flickering from tunnel to tunnel. Funny how he hadn't noticed such things when he was busy fighting for his life!

:Here and there.: she replied with a hint of a smile. :What bringss you, little one? Have you brought me a snack? These tunnels are filled with rats and tasty morsels, but I'd love to have some rabbit some time!:

:Err, no ssorry.: Hasan said, not sounding that sorry at all. His eyes returned to hers. :I've come to clear my head.: he confessed. :But now I'm curious. Where do all these tunnelsss go?:

:Ahh," she flicked her tongue out as she thought. :Some go nowhere, but some only appear to go nowhere.: she looked at him with concern. :If you've come to clear your head I don't think that-:

:Melussine, I'm fine.: he protested.

She gave him a look that said, 'if you say so', before proceeding to slink away.

:Hey, wait!: Hasan called. :Where're we going?:

:To a place I think will fascinate you. You know, Merlin used to say that the best cure for being sad was to learn something new.:

:Did he now?: Hasan asked, following the snake on perhaps misplaced trust through the bowels of Slytherin's finest secret.

:Yes, funny isn't it? By that logic, one can never be sad at Hogwarts.: Melusine mused. :But here we are!:

They had come through but two twists and turns to a solid stone wall. Hasan half-glanced at his snake friend, wondering if she was lying and really just wanted to eat him, when she released a sudden laugh. Her green sides shook with mirth as Hasan frowned at her. He, at least, did not find this prospect very entertaining.

:Open: Hasan hissed, figuring that that was the generic code for all of Slytherin's possessions. Fortunately, he was not wrong. The heavy black door swung open with a great deal of labored groaning, revealing another chamber, shrouded in shadow.

:There's a light on the ceiling. I think if you light it on fire, it would illuminate the whole room.: Melusine offered hopefully.

Hasan nodded in acknowledgement. "Incendio!" he said, flicking his wand. The spell shot from his wand and into the ancient looking contraption. It was a dull, but clearly golden, lamp which swung on the ceiling by a thin gold chain. Despite its size, the small lamp did indeed cast the entire study in light. Magic, Hasan thought.

For the first time, Hasan was able to take a good look at his surroundings. This newly discovered chamber was not large- being roughly the size of his own dorm room. There was one simple desk, carved it appeared from green marble, with books so yellowed that Hasan suspected they would collapse to ash the second the wind touched it. By the desk was a chair made of black wood with a majestic looking cushion on it. Was this Salazar's private study? Was that even a thing? And why the heck was the main entrance through a girl's bathroom?

Hasan sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose at the stale, possibly moldy, dusty smell.

:How long do you think it has been since the last time someone was in here?: Hasan asked her.

:I do not know...: Melusine hissed. :Do I count? I have been sleeping in here for a while now.:

:How did you know it was here?: Hasan asked her.

:I didn't.: she said, turning to him. :But, there you have it. Slytherin's study! Try finding something in that pile to amuse you.:

Hasan looked towards the stack of ancient texts on the desk and on the floor. :Okay then...: Reaching out his senses towards the chair, he confirmed that it wasn't cursed. He sat down cautiously, ready to blame Melusine if something went wrong, before carefully scanning the tomes available to him. What could Salazar possibly have hidden here? Were these books even still around? Still legal? Or where there copies upstairs in the library right now?

He reached for the book which seemed to strangely have no author, or perhaps no title, for it only said Merlin on the worn leather cover. His interest was piqued. Perhaps it would mention something of Merlin's tears, which Snape vehemently thought nonexistent. Pulling up his chair, Hasan bent his head and began to read...

He had only been reading for what seemed like a half an hour when his head began to buzz. A pounding headache made him squeeze his eyes shut for a brief moment and he again questioned his decision in coming down here. So far there had been absolutely no mention of Merlin's tears, and why would there be, because the book seemed to be written by Merlin himself! And why would he write about bottling up his tears and perhaps hiding them in a cave somewhere?

:I better go back up.: Hasan told Melusine, who had curled up on his lap. :Maybe I can find this book in the school library...: he said, taking out a quill and parchment to record the name.

:Why don't you just take the whole book?: Melusine asked him.

:Because then people might ask questions.: Hasan said. :But I also don't think I should move anything...not yet. There could be curse we don't know of yet.:

Melusine seemed doubtful as she slid onto the floor again. :Perhaps, but Salazar did leave his study here for a reason. He knew someone would return to gain this knowledge. But suit yourself, I love having a visitor.:

Hasan nodded. His excitement of having found Salazar's study came with the anxiety to learn everything at once. He had barely even scratched the surface and still couldn't fully comprehend what he had just read. And he was a little disappointed that Merlin had yet to make any mention of his elusive tears.

:Do you think Merlin's tears even exist?: Hasan asked Melusine as he was readying to leave.

:Merlin's tears?: Melusine echoed. :Of course they do.:

Hasan halted. :Wh-What?:

:They're rare to be sure, and perhaps all in private hands at the moment, but they certainly exist.:

:How can you be so sure?: Hasan asked her shrewdly.

:Because I've seen them.: she said. :A very long time ago there was a potion that could turn a human into a beast. Merlin's tears have a peculiar healing quality about them- they are highly magical but also surprisingly gentle. They came in a glass vial and I doubted at first if the merchant had given me water instead, but upon adding them to the potion, they became a flaming red gas, a brilliant scarlet!:

Hasan listened intently. A brilliant scarlet, huh? And wait a minute...human to beast? Upon her adding them? He decided not to press it for now. Besides, his headache was really killing him.

:Thank you, Melusine. I'll see you later.:

:Best of luck, little one.:

.oOo.

-Dream Start-

"And who iss thiss you have brought, Neville Longbottom? A friend? An ally perhaps?"

Neville took a step forward facing Professor Quirrell head on.

"A friend!" Neville heard himself shout firmly.

"Ah, a friend," an unknown voice purred as Quirrell's hand stroked the mirror at an awkward angle. Quirrell winced. With a snap of the same hand, ropes sprang up around Hasan and Neville's body. And this was when Neville saw himself falling to the floor with a muffled shout and a crash.

"What has the fool, Dumbledore done! I can see myself getting the stone! But nothing more! Where is it hidden!" that same harsh voice commanded.

"M-master, if I may," Quirrell pleaded weakly.

"You can't do anything," the voice shrieked, then chuckled as if catching on to a joke, "I sssee...ussse the boy. Bring him here, Quirrell. Have him stand in front of the mirror and tell me what he sees."

A snap of fingers later, and Neville was on his shaking feet, completely untied, but with Quirrell's creepy hands on his back. Neville saw himself still.

"I-I see my...self winning the House Cup," Dream Neville said.

"Er-" Quirrell said.

"You idiot! He's lying!" the voice spat. "Turn around and let me face him!"

Quirrell did so hurriedly. "What do you see, Longbottom? I know it's in your pocket."

Neville froze, not even attempting to feint.

"Yes, Lord Voldemort knows all," Voldemort- no the voice- no they were the same, hissed before sending a crucio to Neville. Neville, anticipating this instantaneously threw the stone to Hasan... And this was when everything became hazy and black. Neville in the dream, no more than eleven, had succumbed to the pain. His brain and shut down and he fell to the stone floor unconscious. So then...why was it that Neville was still here witnessing this all play out? Even if he couldn't see what exactly was going on, the sounds were crisp and clear. Neville was intrigued.

He heard a grunt of exertion from someone. Then,

"I was wondering if I would see you today, Mr. Castell," Voldemort's voice hissed. "I haven't heard that name in a while. You must be the last in the line. After I killed your father."

Neville froze. Hasan's father was...killed by this monster?

"Or perhaps not...Har-" And then suddenly the scene swirled. Stuck in his dream Neville was unable to control the pattern his dreams took or look too deeply into any one detail. As much as he longed to continue in that one dream, there was something equally as appealing in the next one.

Neville watched himself lean on his knees, completely out of breath.

"L-Luna? H-Hasan?" Merlin, how his voice sounded so weak! But present-day Neville was paying attention, acute attention, to the two who stood in a pile of- wait, was that BLOOD? They did something Neville in the past had not even noticed: Hasan and Luna had exchanged glances.

Neville inched forward to hear her barely audible voice. "I called him," Luna whispered, holding up her ring hand.

Neville recognized the Protean ring on her finger immediately. Funny how he had forgotten about that thing. How he had forgotten about his friends...How he had forgotten all the details of this- whatever this was.

"W-what's going on down here?" Neville in the dream asked, stepping further into the chamber. "What is this place?...Is that-Is that Draco?" His eyes bugged out in horror at the pasty blond looking for all the world dead.

Present Neville watched as Luna nodded sadly, but noticed that she reached for a wand lying on the ground. "I'm sorry Neville! I never meant it!"

Present Neville watched as Dream Neville immediately jumped to conclusions:

"YOU? You did this?" he screamed in a hoarse whisper.

Then, Present Neville watched as Hasan gripped his own wand. Merlin! He should have noticed! He should have known then!

"I'm! I'm so sorry, Neville!...But I haven't done it yet," Luna said nonsensically, a tear escaping her eye. "But I wanted to apologize anyway."

Hasan shut his eyes, seemingly at war with himself.

"Luna, I don't-" Neville protested helplessly.

"Obliviate," Hasan whispered, hitting Neville squarely in the chest with a jet of white light.

"Confundus!" Luna yelled instantly after, their spells hitting simultaneously. The Gryffindor golden boy shivered before slumping down unconscious. "You stabbed the Basilisk with the sword of Gryfindor and saved Draco from harm," Luna said clearly, swishing her wand around the boy's head. Dream Neville only twitched in response.

-Dream End-

Neville woke up panting, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow. His hands cramped horribly, but as he flexed them, he realized too late that something warm and hard had fallen out. Neville scrambled over the edge of his bed, still panting, as the remembrall thudded to the ground. Then, as if having a mind of its own, the magical glass object began to roll away from him...Stopped by a light blue velvety shoe!

Neville's head snapped up. "P-p-professor Dumbledore!" Neville stuttered, completely caught off guard. His mind was still reeling from his most outrageously ridicules dream, and he was not quite aware yet.

The old grandfatherly headmaster smiled at him, a twinkle in his ice blue eyes.

"Hello Neville. It is good to see you making such a speedy recovery!"

Neville nodded, licking his lips.

"Ah! And is this your remembrall, Neville?" Albus asked good-humoredly as he bent to pick it up.

"Well, yes sir-"

"Hmm," Dumbledore said as he inspected the little orb. "Seems a bit warm. You weren't...sleeping with it, were you?"

"Well, I-"

Albus fixed him with a worried glance. "Memories, magic, and dreams are dangerous when mixed together, Neville." He regarded Neville's sweat shined face and heaving chest before unexpectedly cracking a grin. "I don't need to tell you that you can have the most peculiar dreams while holding one, do I?"

"Oh, no sir!"

"Good." Albus placed the remembrall on a folded shirt on the nightstand. "Neville," he sighed, "I deeply apologize for placing you through this whole ideal. It was not my intention to...have caused you such pain. Mr. and Miss Weasley as well as Miss Brown have all been suspended for a week and will not be allowed to attend the Yule Ball this year. However, it was on the whole my fault that you are here like this. And for that, I am very very sorry."

Neville's face was full of anxiety as he tried to think of something to say to convince the headmaster otherwise. That no, the headmaster had not caused Ginny to go crazy on him, or for Ron to start brutally beating him up.

"Albus-"

"No," Albus held up a hand to still him. "I've come today to tell you that I will be making the journey to the cave alone. You are in no shape to accompany me, and even if you were, this cave is no place for school children or really anybody to come to."

Neville felt something within him rise up. "Headmaster, I can do it. I'm not weak. I'm NOT! He got me this time, but next time I'll be better! I'll beat him! I promise!" Unconsciously, tears sprung into his eyes. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

He heard Dumbledore release a heavy sigh. "Neville, that is not it at all. This, in fact, has actually very little to do with you and all to do with me. This decision should never have been made. You should never have been made to wear this burden of the Boy-Who-Lived (do not fret, we are alone), and you should never have been hurt. It took you to get hurt psychically for me to realize what other emotional pains I have also inflicted on you." Albus sighed as one who was old before fixing him with a very serious stare. "I never want to hear you speaking of beating someone up ever again. Do you hear me, Neville? This is war, not some petty lover's game. It is not weak to not fight back, Neville. Do you understand me?"

Very rigidly, Neville Longbottom nodded.

"Very well then," Albus said, giving him a grandfatherly pat on the back. "When I get back I'll have a special job for you," he said. "Only a true Gryffindor can do it. I have faith in you, Neville. Get well soon."