Chapter 221: Vast Sorrows
If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
I would like to thank my beta, Akisu, for his help in this chapter.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
3 May 1994, Hogwarts, Scotland
In Neville's perfectly unbiased opinion, the past couple of days sucked immeasurably. The task had started so well. He had proved to everyone just how skilled and how honourable he was. Until he was betrayed by Cassius Warrington, that is.
If he was perfectly honest, he should have seen that coming. Neville shouldn't have bought the fact that Warrington forgave him for almost killing him. Still, it was somewhat understandable, and he did deserve it a bit. As far as he was concerned, they were even. He would feel no guilt with what happened to the older student. Not anymore.
He had spoken to his grandmother about it, and she said that Warrington testified saying that someone blackmailed him into doing it by threatening to harm his sister, as well as going after Dumbledore for not making sure that the tournament was safe enough, despite his reassurances. It was a doomed effort from the start, but it did keep everyone's attention on Dumbledore, stopping them from forgetting his many failings. It probably contributed a big deal to how much Dumbledore was getting crucified by the media. The man had literally lost every position he had in the span of a year. This was not the work of a fifteen-year-old student no matter how smart they were.
Nevertheless, Neville didn't buy the fact that Warrington was an unwilling victim, but the DMLE seemingly did. It didn't matter anymore. All it did confirm was that Neville was taken somewhere. The DMLE tried to track down the tourney but all that remained was an empty field, with no traces of magic.
Still, it hurt to see the sheer incredulity on the Aurors' faces when they interviewed him. They didn't believe him. They didn't buy that he shared a cell with a dead man. They didn't buy that he could have escaped a stronghold filled with guards and wizards, without even a wand. They didn't buy that Sirius Black had sacrificed his life to save him.
It was happening again. They were blaming it on another illusion, another mental trick, and Neville did not have the heart to break his grandmother's heart and tell her that he purposely used the killing curse hoping to kill Snape. Even in the midst of his endless rage, his grieving, his confusion, and his fear, Neville chose to use that spell.
Sure, the DMLE detected the scar's influence thanks to the mind healers, noting it as a foreign compulsion, but it was Neville's hate that powered this spell. It was his utter loathing for the man who had painted a target on his back, who had caused the death of his parents. And yet the man faced no consequences for any of it. He deserved to pay.
Neville reined in his anger once more. No, he shouldn't have attacked Snape. Not like he did. He should have told his grandmother, and she would have helped him get his revenge. She would have destroyed everything the man held dear, bit by bit, ruined his life one day at a time. Neville knew perfectly well what Augusta Longbottom was capable of.
For one thing, she got him off using the Killing Curse in public. A lifetime sentence in prison was avoided on a technicality. He had told her everything, of course, and she had a few contacts in the Departments of Mysteries to confirm the existence of the prophecy. She didn't say it but Neville could tell that she would take revenge on her own terms.
Still, Neville knew in his heart that what happened wasn't an illusion. It wasn't his scar possessing him, even if his judgement was impaired slightly.
No, it was true. And that meant that Harry's betrayal was also true.
Neville stood there, in front of the door to the Hospital Wing, afraid of the coming confrontation. Harry had been his rock, in his depression after the events of the Chamber of Secrets, after the loss of Hermione and his reputation. Did he truly want to risk losing one of his few friends? Did he really want to pull back the curtain and confront Harry Potter?
His hesitation must have shown on his face because the Longbottom Matriarch gently grabbed his shoulder and spoke up, "You don't have to do this today if you don't want to."
"No, I need to do this," he responded.
"Do you want me to come in with you?"
"No. I need to speak with him alone."
Neville's grandmother had an understanding look on her face and the young Gryffindor shook his head, steeled his expression and sneakily entered the room. He recognized Harry on the furthest bed, and he honestly didn't look good. Apparently, there might have been some truth in the Grindelwald impersonator's words, that Dumbledore had tortured the last Potter in some kind of inescapable prison that Harry still somehow got out from.
The former Longbottom scion stifled the pity he felt towards the young Slytherin, reminding himself of his betrayal.
Harry looked like he was drifting off, but Neville didn't have it in him to wait any longer and cleared his throat audibly. He could see Harry's eyes widen slightly in recognition before speaking, "Hello, Harry. I believe we have a lot to talk about."
The other boy's voice was raspy, "You could have picked a better time, Neville."
"I don't think I could. This conversation was a long time coming."
"Well, I'm not going anywhere and I'm too tired to even try to protest. So, Champ, what do you want to talk about?"
There were many places to start from and suddenly, Neville didn't know which one to pick. He expected some kind of resistance or a sarcastic comment of some sort. It was odd seeing Harry like this and the first question slipped from his mouth, "What the hell happened to you?"
"A lot. Dumbledore can be very cruel when he wants to. What about you? I heard you almost killed our resident dungeon bat."
Neville's reply was just as vague as Harry's, "That was an accident, nothing more, I was under the Imperius, you see. I don't remember much, only that I ended up kidnapped by some nutjobs, forced into a cell, and escaped through the skin of my teeth but I got caught by the Imperius in the end, hence the hexing."
Harry snorted at his statement, "Oh, come on. You're seriously expecting me to buy that. You obviously ended up using the scar to escape and almost killed Snape in the process. I did warn you about trying to use the knowledge in it."
Well, it wasn't like Neville expected anything else. He might be injured, but Harry was still smart enough to see through him. The fact that he knew about the scar must have helped his deductions. Still, that didn't mean that Neville appreciated the judging look in the Slytherin's eyes, "Hey, I had no choice. I was going to die if I hadn't used it."
"I'm not judging you, or even saying what you did was wrong. You actively made a choice, and that choice has consequences, consequences that you will have to live with."
Neville snorted. Since when hadn't Harry Potter been judging him? Ever since he stepped into Hogwarts, Harry had looked at him with that infuriating look on his face and deemed him wanting. It had grated his nerves at first, thinking that the boy was looking down on him, which was why he always picked into fights with the Potter scion in his first year, "Well, I'm more than ready to accept the consequences. I do not value Snape's life above my own. But I didn't come here to talk to you about all that…"
"Why do I think you're not here to make sure I'm okay…"
"Oh, that's a part of it, sure. But I do have a few questions. You see, the people who kidnapped me said a lot of interesting things. A few of them involved you."
Neville's tone turned more than a little threatening at the end, yet all Harry did was raise an eyebrow, "You have my attention, Longbottom."
"Did you know about the Prophecy that made Voldemort go after our parents?"
Harry nodded, "Yes, I did. I found a couple of my mother's diaries a few years back and she spoke about it a lot. They went into hiding later, before being betrayed by Peter Pettigrew, which was how the Fire of Godric's Hollow came to be. I still have no idea what the hell happened there…"
"And you said nothing?"
The young Slytherin shrugged, "It wasn't like it would do anything. True prophecies happen either way. Knowing about it, even actively trying to stop it would not change the outcome. Telling you about it would have just made you obsessed with it. Even then, I don't know what it said, only that it exists, and that Dumbledore believed it to be a true prophecy. It could have been fulfilled already for all I could tell."
"Did you know that Snape was the one who told Voldemort about the prophecy?"
Harry visibly froze for a fraction of a second before resuming, "I don't think it matters who told Voldemort about it. Our parents died over a decade ago. You probably don't remember them. I know I don't. For all the stories, they're just strangers who fought in a war. They knew the consequences of fighting this war and chose to do it anyway."
"How could you say that?"
"Do you know what war is, Neville? It's not a school grudge or a fancy battle. It's not glorious like the stories of heroes and legendary figures. There is only death and heartbreak in war. When you cast that first spell, no matter how righteous you feel, you have no idea who is going to die. You have no idea who will become widows or orphans. Our parents chose to fight a war for whatever reason they had. They might have thought that Death would be preferable to the way the world was becoming, that standing up to a monster was the best they could honour their ancestors…. But that means that they also had to understand the risks. And in the end, it's not them who paid the price. Their loved ones did. Death is easy. Seeing the people you love perish is pure agony."
Neville bristled at that. Harry really didn't care about his parents, something that Neville never really understood. At home, Frank and Alice Longbottom were like ghosts, haunting every member of the household and Neville learned to honour them too, if only to keep his family happy. However, Neville just didn't want to get into an argument over it.
Instead, he chose to change the subject to what he truly wanted to talk about, "Did you lie to me about what happened in the Chamber of Secrets?"
Harry gave him an unreadable look before sighing, "Yes I did."
"So, there was no illusion? You let me think I was insane."
"It wasn't really my idea, but it was the only way to prevent Dumbledore from escalating the situation. He didn't want people to realize that there was a Basilisk roaming freely in his school and I didn't want people looking into my affairs. We wanted to bury the whole thing, but you had pretty much bragged to everyone about killing a Basilisk, hence the idea that you were under an illusion. The way you behaved afterwards is what made people call you unstable."
Neville gave him an incredulous tone, "You're blaming that on me?"
"It was either that or Dumbledore was going to obliviate you and possibly cause actual brain damage. The Chamber was a defining memory that changed your character. The grief you felt about what happened to Hermione changed you and removing it would have put you out of sync. You would have been truly unbalanced. Dumbledore wouldn't have cared anyway; as long as you kept your mouth shut, he would have been happy."
"And you couldn't have told me about it later…"
Harry chuckled, "I could have, but the truth is that I didn't trust you not to blab to anyone else."
"You were my friend!"
"We weren't friends back then. And do you remember what you did after slaying the Basilisk? Did you really think I would trust you afterwards?"
Neville flinched at the reminder. He had fallen to Riddle's words, almost betrayed Harry because he was hearing what he wanted to hear, that Hermione would have been alright, "You're a real son of a bitch, Potter."
The last Potter snorted, "I won't deny that. Out of curiosity, who was it that told you about the Chamber?"
"Sirius Black. He sacrificed himself to help me escape."
The young Slytherin burst into laughter. Neville waited for a minute, his temper getting wilder with every passing moment, "Why the hell are you laughing?"
"Don't worry your pretty little head about it and do your best to forget about Sirius. Believe me, it's a miracle you even got out of this place alive if that man was involved. It always comes back to them, doesn't it? Potter, Black and Pettigrew. I'm expecting Lupin to come out of nowhere and try something."
Neville furrowed his eyebrows, "Didn't you know? Professor Lupin disappeared during the third task. The Aurors haven't been able to find him."
"How interesting," Harry mused, "I'll need to think about this further. But that's my problem, not yours. Now, as for you, the question you need to ask yourself is what now? What are you going to do now that you know the truth? I wonder if you'll grow from this experience or if you'll drown in your own misery."
Neville turned and left the hospital wing, not answering the Slytherin's question. He definitely didn't want him to know how much his words rattled him.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
On the top of a deserted hill, a figure looked visibly tired from the hellish journey. And that was an accurate description of the way up. Remus Lupin's ascent was a testament to his resilience, a journey across a desolate landscape transformed into an unnatural monochrome wasteland. Mere days before, this place was probably filled with greeneries and plants. Yet nothing remained.
He had been drawn to this place with an unlikely mixture of hope and desperation. His tired expression disappeared and a wide smile took its place. A woman stood before him, her red hair a vivid contrast to the grey world around them, cascading down her shoulders like a fiery waterfall. Even after so long, she was easily recognizable, "I didn't dare to dream that I would ever see you again…"
The woman's expression became softer, "I did miss you, old friend. Now, we'll have the chance to catch up later. Why don't you start by telling me about my son?" Her eyes, a vivid green, bore into his with an intensity that seemed almost otherworldly. It was almost as if they were glowing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
AN: I just wanted to reassure anyone that I'm not doing the whole abandoned child thing. I won't say anything else to avoid spoilers, just thought to reassure you, though. As usual, let me know what you think or if you have any suggestions.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
If you want to support me check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.