Fic: Harry’s Man, Through and Through for ofankoma
Title: Harry’s Man, Through and Through
Author: snorkackcatcher
Recipient: ofankoma
Characters: Neville, Dumbledore, Harry (indirectly)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Neville is not the Chosen One. He’s okay with that.
Words: 2,700
One of Neville’s earliest memories is of hiding behind the sofa, forgotten, while his grandmother talks to an important visitor, an old man with long silver hair and beard.
“I will, of course, tell him that his parents are heroes.” Grandma’s voice breaks for a moment. “And what horrors You-Know-Who’s creatures are capable of.”
The old man pauses before answering. “Please be careful what you say, Augusta. It is tragedy enough that he will never know Frank and Alice as rational adults. At this stage, he does not need to know of the dreadful things that magic can do when used by such as the Lestranges.”
Neville does not understand, even after Grandma tells him the stories of things that happened before he can remember - of the terrifying wizard defeated by a little boy like himself, of the bad wizards and witch who served him and who hurt his mum and dad so badly they have to spend all their time in hospital. When he is finally old enough to be taken to see his parents, the shock scares him so much that he doesn’t know if he ever wants to do magic himself.
If it can only hurt them and it can’t make them better, what’s it for?
Grandma is cautious with the details of what happened to his parents and Neville struggles to understand anyway, but he eventually learns that they were in hiding, and then they weren't, and then they were tortured with something called the ‘Cruciatus Curse’. He often lies awake in bed trying to imagine how the curse would feel - like a sting, a scald, a broken bone maybe, only even worse, and over and over and over and over...
He tries to picture what he would do if he met the people who did it, and the revenge he would take on them, how he would beat and smash and tear at them until they cried.
As time passes he tries to forget instead; indeed, forgetting things becomes a habit.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Over the years, Neville has heard so much about the Boy Who Lived that he is unable to imagine him as merely another boy like himself. He pictures a figure of commanding height and power, with his famous scar shining like a lighthouse beacon to mark him out as a leader, his followers rushing to carry out his orders.
When he finally gets to Hogwarts and actually meets Harry Potter personally, it takes a bit of getting used to.
But as Neville learns more about the real Harry, he comes to realise that he’s just as impressive as the legendary one, in his own way. He’s still someone you look up to, someone who takes the lead when he needs to. And as year follows year, as Harry gets himself into and then gets himself out of a series of amazing scrapes - stopping You-Know-Who from getting the Stone, killing giant snakes with swords, flying past dragons - Neville wonders if maybe there’s something to the legend after all.
And yet he doesn’t put on airs the way Draco Malfoy does, but leaps to the defence of the underdog, and encourages hopeless cases like … well, like himself. Neville can only dream of being that sort of Gryffindor, and often wishes he had not let the Sorting Hat talk him into being put there (even if it did please his gran), but Harry is clearly a proper Gryffindor, the real thing.
It doesn’t matter that he’s short and that his scar doesn’t glow in the dark.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Everyone assumes that something has gone terribly wrong with the Third Task, and Neville knows they must be right when neither Harry nor Ron return to the dormitory that night, but he doesn’t expect it to be connected to him in any way. Nor does he expect Professor Dumbledore himself to call him into his office the following morning.
He listens with an increasing sense of disbelief as the headmaster gently explains that the man he has known as Professor Moody, the man he has looked up to, has trusted, was in truth one of his parents’ torturers. “How - how could you let him work here?” he asks before he can stop himself. “Sir,” he adds quickly, as he struggles to quell a double sense of betrayal.
A look of bitter regret momentarily crosses Dumbledore’s face. “I was taken in, as were we all. I can only apologise to you, Mr Longbottom. While there are many of us willing to take the fight to Lord Voldemort -” Neville flinches, for more than one reason “- it remains the case that any mistake we make may have terrible consequences.” Dumbledore fixes him with a piercing look, and continues softly, “But you are no doubt tired of being pitied for the heroism of your parents. I can say only that while they willingly joined me in the fight, their unfortunate fate remains one of my most bitter regrets. If they are of any value to you, Mr Longbottom, you have my heartfelt apologies for that also.”
Neville does not know what to say to this. “What have they done with him, sir?” he asks eventually. He can hear the bitter edge in his voice, and is amazed at his own boldness. “Have they sent him back to Azkaban? He should be punished for what he did!”
Professor Dumbledore removes his spectacles and rubs his eyes, and he looks so tired that Neville is shocked into silence. “I am afraid that no further punishment can touch him now. No doubt you are aware of the effect of what is known as a Dementor’s Kiss?”
Neville gapes at him. This is so horrible, even compared to what happened to his parents, that for the first time he is not sure whether he wants revenge.
= * = * = * = * = * =
The headline of Hermione’s discarded newspaper is the first thing that catches his eye. The familiar names in the caption are the second.
‘Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.’
Neville’s gaze follows the page up to the picture that sits above it, to the other pictures beside it. Now he knows what his enemies look like.
An image of ‘Mad-Eye Moody’ flashes across his mind, and unwillingly he inspects his conscience; does he wish for the Lestranges to suffer the same fate? He can’t tell, and puts the matter aside until he can decide. Forgetting is still half a habit.
But now there are things he mustn’t forget, new things he has to master, somehow, for this has given him clarity in one thing above all others; the time has come for him to join Harry in the fight, just as his parents joined Dumbledore.
It terrifies him, but for the first time he knows what he wants magic for.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Fury and hatred win out over terror, despite the dangers, despite his injuries.
They carry him forward into the chamber where the Death Eaters have cornered Harry, but instead of revenge there is only the humiliation of not being able to cast a proper spell, of being captured and held helpless, of finally coming face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange and being unable to strike her down.
But this gives him bravery, if defiance is brave. “DON’D GIB ID DO DEM, HARRY!” Just like his parents, he would rather face the Cruciatus Curse than let them get away with it.
And then he discovers what the Cruciatus Curse really feels like.
Neville cannot tell, in that moment or afterwards, whether he wants Harry to save him by offering the prophecy or not; but he does not have to, as first his old teachers and then Dumbledore himself come to save them. But one thing he does learn is that there is fact behind the legend; his friend is somehow connected to You-Know-Who. Neville is one of the first (but by no means the last) who speculates that this means Harry is prophesied to bring him down.
It is not a task he envies him, but he intends to give him every bit of support he can. He knows now that there are priorities more important than his own revenge to worry about.
And he knows now that he can fight.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Neville is in a chair by the fire, trying to master the theory he needs for his Charms N.E.W.T. essay, when Ron and Hermione return from their final prefect rounds of the night and confirm that the ‘Chosen One’ rumours are true.
“… always did wonder why he tried to kill Harry in the first place.”
“So did I, actually. But if he knew it had to be someone born at the end of July, it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Even though they talk in low voices as they pass through the deserted common room, Neville is sure they have not realised he is there, hidden from view by the high back of the chair. A second later, the full import of Hermione’s words hits him.
The end of July. It could have been him that You-Know-Who tried to kill. That must have been why his parents had been in hiding.
A second after that, a question arises: was that why the Death Eaters came for them afterwards? Neville slams his fist down on the table as he remembers that he could have known, if it had not been for the disaster in the Department of Mysteries. What had that prophecy said?
Hermione has often given him hints about his homework. This time, she’s given him a hint of something much more important.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Weeks pass, and it becomes clear that Harry, Ron and Hermione are not going to talk about the prophecy to anyone else. Neville can think of only one other person who might be able to tell him what he wants to know, and he is absent more often than not.
Then one evening when he is potting some Botswanan Burrowing Bulbs for Professor Sprout, Dumbledore strolls past the greenhouse.
“Sir!” Neville calls. In his haste he drops his bulb to the ground, where it promptly begins tunnelling. Dumbledore turns to him in surprise, and Neville blurts out his question without thinking. “It could have been me, sir, couldn’t it? The prophecy, I mean?”
Dumbledore meets his eyes, and to Neville’s immense relief he does not take offence or waste time pretending ignorance. “Yes, Mr Longbottom, since you ask, in principle it could have been you. I would say however - and I am sure Harry would fervently agree - that being the ‘Chosen One’ is far from a blessing.”
“I know, sir,” replies Neville, abashed. “But - what does it say?”
“Harry has not chosen to tell you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I think I should not do so either.”
“But I want to help!”
Dumbledore hesitates. “Mr Longbottom, I have found it advisable in matters such as this not to tell people more than they need to know at any given time,” he says eventually. “I am aware that it places great and perhaps unreasonable demands on their trust. It may be that I have encouraged Harry to act in the same manner. If so, I can only say that I consider him an entirely worthy recipient of your trust.”
“So do I, sir,” Neville says quietly.
“I see.” Dumbledore considers him. “You have already fought one battle at Harry’s side. It may well be the case that you will have to fight many more, ones in which I will not be able to save you. Are you prepared for that?”
“I’ll fight with him all the way, whatever happens. Whether he confides in me or not.” There is no doubt in Neville’s mind, nor in his voice, which surprises him for a moment until he realises that he has come to that conclusion a long time before.
There is the hint of a tear in Dumbledore’s eye. “You are Harry’s man through and through.”
Neville stands up tall. “Yes, sir.”
= * = * = * = * = * =
He fights battles for most of the following year.
None of them are at Harry’s side, but they are on Harry’s side, and Neville knows that is much more important. He finds that it doesn’t matter to him that Harry hasn’t told him exactly what he’s doing, because he doesn’t need to know. All he needs to know is that they are both doing what they need to do, both of them taking the fight to Voldemort and his creatures in their own way.
Of course, without Harry there someone has to take the lead, and to Neville’s surprise people seem to look up to him, seem to think that he’s that someone. He tries to follow Harry’s example; don’t put on airs, defend the underdog, and encourage students who need a bit of help, however hopeless things look. It doesn’t seem to matter that the only scars Neville has have come from the Carrows. Resistance to their regime is difficult and dangerous, but it’s the only thing to do for a proper Gryffindor, the kind Neville is determined to be.
And then finally, when he does not know how much longer he can keep up the act, the portrait of the teenage girl beckons him down the corridor to meet the three people he has most longed to see; and he calls everyone who can come to meet them.
He knows that they will all finally get the chance to fight at Harry’s side again, and this time they will win.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Fury and hatred are again stronger than his terror, as is his desire for revenge.
They carry him forward towards Voldemort and his snake. Neville does not care whether he gets a chance to cast a spell or not, so long as he makes an attempt. If Harry has sacrificed himself for them, the only thing he can do is try to fulfil his last request, as one last act of homage to his friend; and that gives him all the courage he needs.
It doesn’t work, but his courage gives him defiance. “Dumbledore’s Army!” he cries, and the answering shouts give him hope that some at least will still fight. He even has the wild idea that if Harry is not the one born to bring Voldemort down, maybe he’s supposed to do it?
And then as paralysis grips him and the Sorting Hat is forced onto his head, he discovers what terror really feels like.
As the Hat catches fire he can sense its presence in his head. It says in agonised tones, “You are a proper Gryffindor,” and then something slams very hard onto his crown. The pain makes him flinch, and with a sudden rush of joy he realises that the spell is not holding him immobile, that he can move. With one swift, fluid motion he throws off the Hat and reaches into it, and is not at all surprised when his hand grips the pommel of a sword.
The giant snake is first. One slash of the sword is enough.
Voldemort is next, but to his surprise the battle has restarted before he can reach him, and this time they’re winning. Then he hears Hagrid roar “WHERE’S HARRY?” and looks down to see that Harry’s body has vanished. It gives him welcome clarity; if Voldemort’s spell on him could fail, then surely Harry too can still be alive?
He still has no clue what the prophecy could have said, but one thing he is sure of is that the legend can become fact.
= * = * = * = * = * =
One of Neville’s fondest memories is of standing in the Great Hall, forgotten, while a wand flies through the air towards a young man with untidy black hair and a scar.
Author: snorkackcatcher
Recipient: ofankoma
Characters: Neville, Dumbledore, Harry (indirectly)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Neville is not the Chosen One. He’s okay with that.
Words: 2,700
One of Neville’s earliest memories is of hiding behind the sofa, forgotten, while his grandmother talks to an important visitor, an old man with long silver hair and beard.
“I will, of course, tell him that his parents are heroes.” Grandma’s voice breaks for a moment. “And what horrors You-Know-Who’s creatures are capable of.”
The old man pauses before answering. “Please be careful what you say, Augusta. It is tragedy enough that he will never know Frank and Alice as rational adults. At this stage, he does not need to know of the dreadful things that magic can do when used by such as the Lestranges.”
Neville does not understand, even after Grandma tells him the stories of things that happened before he can remember - of the terrifying wizard defeated by a little boy like himself, of the bad wizards and witch who served him and who hurt his mum and dad so badly they have to spend all their time in hospital. When he is finally old enough to be taken to see his parents, the shock scares him so much that he doesn’t know if he ever wants to do magic himself.
If it can only hurt them and it can’t make them better, what’s it for?
Grandma is cautious with the details of what happened to his parents and Neville struggles to understand anyway, but he eventually learns that they were in hiding, and then they weren't, and then they were tortured with something called the ‘Cruciatus Curse’. He often lies awake in bed trying to imagine how the curse would feel - like a sting, a scald, a broken bone maybe, only even worse, and over and over and over and over...
He tries to picture what he would do if he met the people who did it, and the revenge he would take on them, how he would beat and smash and tear at them until they cried.
As time passes he tries to forget instead; indeed, forgetting things becomes a habit.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Over the years, Neville has heard so much about the Boy Who Lived that he is unable to imagine him as merely another boy like himself. He pictures a figure of commanding height and power, with his famous scar shining like a lighthouse beacon to mark him out as a leader, his followers rushing to carry out his orders.
When he finally gets to Hogwarts and actually meets Harry Potter personally, it takes a bit of getting used to.
But as Neville learns more about the real Harry, he comes to realise that he’s just as impressive as the legendary one, in his own way. He’s still someone you look up to, someone who takes the lead when he needs to. And as year follows year, as Harry gets himself into and then gets himself out of a series of amazing scrapes - stopping You-Know-Who from getting the Stone, killing giant snakes with swords, flying past dragons - Neville wonders if maybe there’s something to the legend after all.
And yet he doesn’t put on airs the way Draco Malfoy does, but leaps to the defence of the underdog, and encourages hopeless cases like … well, like himself. Neville can only dream of being that sort of Gryffindor, and often wishes he had not let the Sorting Hat talk him into being put there (even if it did please his gran), but Harry is clearly a proper Gryffindor, the real thing.
It doesn’t matter that he’s short and that his scar doesn’t glow in the dark.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Everyone assumes that something has gone terribly wrong with the Third Task, and Neville knows they must be right when neither Harry nor Ron return to the dormitory that night, but he doesn’t expect it to be connected to him in any way. Nor does he expect Professor Dumbledore himself to call him into his office the following morning.
He listens with an increasing sense of disbelief as the headmaster gently explains that the man he has known as Professor Moody, the man he has looked up to, has trusted, was in truth one of his parents’ torturers. “How - how could you let him work here?” he asks before he can stop himself. “Sir,” he adds quickly, as he struggles to quell a double sense of betrayal.
A look of bitter regret momentarily crosses Dumbledore’s face. “I was taken in, as were we all. I can only apologise to you, Mr Longbottom. While there are many of us willing to take the fight to Lord Voldemort -” Neville flinches, for more than one reason “- it remains the case that any mistake we make may have terrible consequences.” Dumbledore fixes him with a piercing look, and continues softly, “But you are no doubt tired of being pitied for the heroism of your parents. I can say only that while they willingly joined me in the fight, their unfortunate fate remains one of my most bitter regrets. If they are of any value to you, Mr Longbottom, you have my heartfelt apologies for that also.”
Neville does not know what to say to this. “What have they done with him, sir?” he asks eventually. He can hear the bitter edge in his voice, and is amazed at his own boldness. “Have they sent him back to Azkaban? He should be punished for what he did!”
Professor Dumbledore removes his spectacles and rubs his eyes, and he looks so tired that Neville is shocked into silence. “I am afraid that no further punishment can touch him now. No doubt you are aware of the effect of what is known as a Dementor’s Kiss?”
Neville gapes at him. This is so horrible, even compared to what happened to his parents, that for the first time he is not sure whether he wants revenge.
= * = * = * = * = * =
The headline of Hermione’s discarded newspaper is the first thing that catches his eye. The familiar names in the caption are the second.
‘Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom.’
Neville’s gaze follows the page up to the picture that sits above it, to the other pictures beside it. Now he knows what his enemies look like.
An image of ‘Mad-Eye Moody’ flashes across his mind, and unwillingly he inspects his conscience; does he wish for the Lestranges to suffer the same fate? He can’t tell, and puts the matter aside until he can decide. Forgetting is still half a habit.
But now there are things he mustn’t forget, new things he has to master, somehow, for this has given him clarity in one thing above all others; the time has come for him to join Harry in the fight, just as his parents joined Dumbledore.
It terrifies him, but for the first time he knows what he wants magic for.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Fury and hatred win out over terror, despite the dangers, despite his injuries.
They carry him forward into the chamber where the Death Eaters have cornered Harry, but instead of revenge there is only the humiliation of not being able to cast a proper spell, of being captured and held helpless, of finally coming face to face with Bellatrix Lestrange and being unable to strike her down.
But this gives him bravery, if defiance is brave. “DON’D GIB ID DO DEM, HARRY!” Just like his parents, he would rather face the Cruciatus Curse than let them get away with it.
And then he discovers what the Cruciatus Curse really feels like.
Neville cannot tell, in that moment or afterwards, whether he wants Harry to save him by offering the prophecy or not; but he does not have to, as first his old teachers and then Dumbledore himself come to save them. But one thing he does learn is that there is fact behind the legend; his friend is somehow connected to You-Know-Who. Neville is one of the first (but by no means the last) who speculates that this means Harry is prophesied to bring him down.
It is not a task he envies him, but he intends to give him every bit of support he can. He knows now that there are priorities more important than his own revenge to worry about.
And he knows now that he can fight.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Neville is in a chair by the fire, trying to master the theory he needs for his Charms N.E.W.T. essay, when Ron and Hermione return from their final prefect rounds of the night and confirm that the ‘Chosen One’ rumours are true.
“… always did wonder why he tried to kill Harry in the first place.”
“So did I, actually. But if he knew it had to be someone born at the end of July, it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Even though they talk in low voices as they pass through the deserted common room, Neville is sure they have not realised he is there, hidden from view by the high back of the chair. A second later, the full import of Hermione’s words hits him.
The end of July. It could have been him that You-Know-Who tried to kill. That must have been why his parents had been in hiding.
A second after that, a question arises: was that why the Death Eaters came for them afterwards? Neville slams his fist down on the table as he remembers that he could have known, if it had not been for the disaster in the Department of Mysteries. What had that prophecy said?
Hermione has often given him hints about his homework. This time, she’s given him a hint of something much more important.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Weeks pass, and it becomes clear that Harry, Ron and Hermione are not going to talk about the prophecy to anyone else. Neville can think of only one other person who might be able to tell him what he wants to know, and he is absent more often than not.
Then one evening when he is potting some Botswanan Burrowing Bulbs for Professor Sprout, Dumbledore strolls past the greenhouse.
“Sir!” Neville calls. In his haste he drops his bulb to the ground, where it promptly begins tunnelling. Dumbledore turns to him in surprise, and Neville blurts out his question without thinking. “It could have been me, sir, couldn’t it? The prophecy, I mean?”
Dumbledore meets his eyes, and to Neville’s immense relief he does not take offence or waste time pretending ignorance. “Yes, Mr Longbottom, since you ask, in principle it could have been you. I would say however - and I am sure Harry would fervently agree - that being the ‘Chosen One’ is far from a blessing.”
“I know, sir,” replies Neville, abashed. “But - what does it say?”
“Harry has not chosen to tell you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I think I should not do so either.”
“But I want to help!”
Dumbledore hesitates. “Mr Longbottom, I have found it advisable in matters such as this not to tell people more than they need to know at any given time,” he says eventually. “I am aware that it places great and perhaps unreasonable demands on their trust. It may be that I have encouraged Harry to act in the same manner. If so, I can only say that I consider him an entirely worthy recipient of your trust.”
“So do I, sir,” Neville says quietly.
“I see.” Dumbledore considers him. “You have already fought one battle at Harry’s side. It may well be the case that you will have to fight many more, ones in which I will not be able to save you. Are you prepared for that?”
“I’ll fight with him all the way, whatever happens. Whether he confides in me or not.” There is no doubt in Neville’s mind, nor in his voice, which surprises him for a moment until he realises that he has come to that conclusion a long time before.
There is the hint of a tear in Dumbledore’s eye. “You are Harry’s man through and through.”
Neville stands up tall. “Yes, sir.”
= * = * = * = * = * =
He fights battles for most of the following year.
None of them are at Harry’s side, but they are on Harry’s side, and Neville knows that is much more important. He finds that it doesn’t matter to him that Harry hasn’t told him exactly what he’s doing, because he doesn’t need to know. All he needs to know is that they are both doing what they need to do, both of them taking the fight to Voldemort and his creatures in their own way.
Of course, without Harry there someone has to take the lead, and to Neville’s surprise people seem to look up to him, seem to think that he’s that someone. He tries to follow Harry’s example; don’t put on airs, defend the underdog, and encourage students who need a bit of help, however hopeless things look. It doesn’t seem to matter that the only scars Neville has have come from the Carrows. Resistance to their regime is difficult and dangerous, but it’s the only thing to do for a proper Gryffindor, the kind Neville is determined to be.
And then finally, when he does not know how much longer he can keep up the act, the portrait of the teenage girl beckons him down the corridor to meet the three people he has most longed to see; and he calls everyone who can come to meet them.
He knows that they will all finally get the chance to fight at Harry’s side again, and this time they will win.
= * = * = * = * = * =
Fury and hatred are again stronger than his terror, as is his desire for revenge.
They carry him forward towards Voldemort and his snake. Neville does not care whether he gets a chance to cast a spell or not, so long as he makes an attempt. If Harry has sacrificed himself for them, the only thing he can do is try to fulfil his last request, as one last act of homage to his friend; and that gives him all the courage he needs.
It doesn’t work, but his courage gives him defiance. “Dumbledore’s Army!” he cries, and the answering shouts give him hope that some at least will still fight. He even has the wild idea that if Harry is not the one born to bring Voldemort down, maybe he’s supposed to do it?
And then as paralysis grips him and the Sorting Hat is forced onto his head, he discovers what terror really feels like.
As the Hat catches fire he can sense its presence in his head. It says in agonised tones, “You are a proper Gryffindor,” and then something slams very hard onto his crown. The pain makes him flinch, and with a sudden rush of joy he realises that the spell is not holding him immobile, that he can move. With one swift, fluid motion he throws off the Hat and reaches into it, and is not at all surprised when his hand grips the pommel of a sword.
The giant snake is first. One slash of the sword is enough.
Voldemort is next, but to his surprise the battle has restarted before he can reach him, and this time they’re winning. Then he hears Hagrid roar “WHERE’S HARRY?” and looks down to see that Harry’s body has vanished. It gives him welcome clarity; if Voldemort’s spell on him could fail, then surely Harry too can still be alive?
He still has no clue what the prophecy could have said, but one thing he is sure of is that the legend can become fact.
= * = * = * = * = * =
One of Neville’s fondest memories is of standing in the Great Hall, forgotten, while a wand flies through the air towards a young man with untidy black hair and a scar.