The Last Good Deed (Neville, G)
Title: The Last Good Deed
Author: andy_star
CPE: Neville
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 100.1
Prompt: #33 Command
Word Count: 450
Summary: Neville saves the world.
Notes: How can I have not written anything since MARCH? Anyway I found the old notebook I was writing my prompts in, so here we go.
There was smoke in the air. It was in his lungs too, and presumably in the black stuff he was coughing up, but mostly it was in his eyes, making him blind to everything in his path. There was something wrong with his arm, and every time he stumbled into somethig it sent a jolt of fiery agony from his useless hand to his chest.
The fire roared, and he staggered away from the heat, coughing furiously. He fell back over a loose floorboard and screamed as his useless arm cracked at the elbow.
Suddenly there was someone there, kneeling beside him and checking his pulse. Through the thick grey air he could just make out a face framed by thick spectacles. "Harry!" he gasped. "What the hell are you -?"
"Neville! Get up, c'mon-"
"No," he coughed. "You've got to go - Voldemort, in the back room -"
"There's no point," Harry argued, holding the edge of his cloak over his mouth. "I've lost my wand."
"Take mine," Neville insisted. "My wand arm's broken anyway, Harry."
Harry hesitated. "What about you?"
Neville held his wand out with his left hand, forcing it into Harry's right. "Go," he said. "I'll be fine."
Harry took the wand. "Ferula," he said, though Neville barely heard him over the incessant roar of the fire. A splint wrapped itself around his injured arm, giving him some relief. "Now get out!" the other boy yelled as he helped Neville to his feet. "That's an order!" And then he was gone, lost in the smoke.
Neville lurched forward, catching his side on a collapsed table. It was almost impossible to breath, but he forced himself over it in the direction the smoke was billowing until he reached the door. He heard the celing creak. Cluthing his splinted arm to his chest, he emerged from the Shack, blinking furiously until he was able to see the rest of the DA standing at a safe distance. Someone yelled his name, and a few of the dark shapes began to run towards him.
The Shrieking Shack groaned. For Neville, time slowed. He thrust himself forward and felt his feet leave the ground as a rush of incredible heat exploded at his back.
He hit the ground and rolled, barely registering the hands that grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him out of harm's way. For a moment, he thought he'd gone blind, as his vision filled with white, but someone was screaming "He's done it, he's done it!" and the flash of light faded.
The Shack still burned.
Someone was forcing a cup to his lips, but he was coughing too hard, unable to breathe, and falling, falling...
Author: andy_star
CPE: Neville
Rating: G
Prompt Set: 100.1
Prompt: #33 Command
Word Count: 450
Summary: Neville saves the world.
Notes: How can I have not written anything since MARCH? Anyway I found the old notebook I was writing my prompts in, so here we go.
There was smoke in the air. It was in his lungs too, and presumably in the black stuff he was coughing up, but mostly it was in his eyes, making him blind to everything in his path. There was something wrong with his arm, and every time he stumbled into somethig it sent a jolt of fiery agony from his useless hand to his chest.
The fire roared, and he staggered away from the heat, coughing furiously. He fell back over a loose floorboard and screamed as his useless arm cracked at the elbow.
Suddenly there was someone there, kneeling beside him and checking his pulse. Through the thick grey air he could just make out a face framed by thick spectacles. "Harry!" he gasped. "What the hell are you -?"
"Neville! Get up, c'mon-"
"No," he coughed. "You've got to go - Voldemort, in the back room -"
"There's no point," Harry argued, holding the edge of his cloak over his mouth. "I've lost my wand."
"Take mine," Neville insisted. "My wand arm's broken anyway, Harry."
Harry hesitated. "What about you?"
Neville held his wand out with his left hand, forcing it into Harry's right. "Go," he said. "I'll be fine."
Harry took the wand. "Ferula," he said, though Neville barely heard him over the incessant roar of the fire. A splint wrapped itself around his injured arm, giving him some relief. "Now get out!" the other boy yelled as he helped Neville to his feet. "That's an order!" And then he was gone, lost in the smoke.
Neville lurched forward, catching his side on a collapsed table. It was almost impossible to breath, but he forced himself over it in the direction the smoke was billowing until he reached the door. He heard the celing creak. Cluthing his splinted arm to his chest, he emerged from the Shack, blinking furiously until he was able to see the rest of the DA standing at a safe distance. Someone yelled his name, and a few of the dark shapes began to run towards him.
The Shrieking Shack groaned. For Neville, time slowed. He thrust himself forward and felt his feet leave the ground as a rush of incredible heat exploded at his back.
He hit the ground and rolled, barely registering the hands that grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him out of harm's way. For a moment, he thought he'd gone blind, as his vision filled with white, but someone was screaming "He's done it, he's done it!" and the flash of light faded.
The Shack still burned.
Someone was forcing a cup to his lips, but he was coughing too hard, unable to breathe, and falling, falling...