fic for apostrophet: Cup of Fire (Ginny, Neville, Luna, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, PG-13)
Title: Cup of Fire
Recipient: apostrophet
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Ginny, Neville, Luna, Harry, Ron and Hermione
Author's Notes: The giftee requested a friendship story involving members of the DA or OotP. I hope you enjoy this! Thanks very much to the mods for their patience with me.
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It began on the train, in the prefects' compartment. Ernie finished a long and rather dull speech, which was quite an achievement, Neville thought, given all the excitement that he'd alluded to in it, and then looked around portentously. "Does anyone have anything to add?"
"Yes," said Ginny, who had been making bored faces at Neville for the past ten minutes. She glanced around. "Some of you were members of an organisation called Dumbledore's Army two years ago. For those of you who weren't, the DA was formed to teach us how to defend ourselves, because that Umbridge bat wasn't giving us any practice during Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. Harry started it, and we named it in Professor Dumbledore's honour. Neither of them are here now, and I think that's as good a reason as any to start it up again."
"I think that's an excellent idea," said Ernie, "but what does it have to do with the prefects?"
Neville watched Ginny count her fingers off in an attempt to remain calm. "It's open to anyone who's interested in defending themselves, and in learning how to disarm others." Her gaze fell on Neville and she smiled, "I suspect that'll include a lot of people this year."
"It includes me, for one," said Neville. A couple of people sniggered, but they were drowned out by a chorus of, "And me...And me."
"So we're going to need people to organise groups of students. I propose that each prefect take one group."
Neville caught Luna's eye; she smiled and said dreamily, "I've never been in charge of anyone before. I hope I'll be able to keep order."
Ginny grinned at her. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, OK?"
"Who on earth made her a prefect?" muttered Zacharias Smith to his neighbour, who spluttered. Ginny shot them a filthy look, but Luna forestalled her.
"Professor McGonagall said she thought it might be good for me to have some responsibility, now that the Li sisters have left."
"You'll be fine, Luna," said Padma Patil, looking around sternly for dissenters, although no one looked ready to argue except Zacharias, who merely shrugged.
"You will," agreed Ginny. "One last thing." She paused for breath, and Neville marvelled at the way she had kept the attention of everyone present, just as Ernie had lost it in thirty seconds. "Last time around, there were no Slytherins in the DA. I want to make it clear that anyone who's interested in joining, in any house, will be made welcome."
All eyes inevitably turned to the Slytherin prefects, who had gathered by the window. There was a short silence before Theodore Nott nodded.
"I'd be interested in joining. We could all use the practice." He glanced at Millicent Bulstrode, who was sitting opposite him. "I don't give a shit about politics, but I'm not going to be some sitting duck, waiting to be taken out just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Millicent nodded - grudgingly, Neville thought, but it was better than nothing.
Ginny smiled warily. "All right," she said, "I've got some posters here, for people to put up in the common rooms. The first meeting is tomorrow night in the Great Hall, at eight pm." There was a brief commotion as posters were passed into outstretched hands.
"I hope to see everyone there," put in Susan unexpectedly. She smiled at Ginny. "Thanks for getting things going again, Ginny. Was that all?"
"Yes, thanks."
"All right." Susan coughed and looked down at the parchment in her hands. "The last thing is patrols. Profess- Headmistress McGonagall wants us to patrol the areas around the house quarters between nine and eleven pm every night." A chorus of groans erupted, and she looked around ruefully. "I know, I know. But it's only a little over two nights a week, and mainly it involves hanging around near the entrance to your house, just to make sure nobody we don't want gets in. I've drawn up a rota-"
"So have I," put in Ernie, sounding rather piqued.
"Well, I tell you what, we'll use my rota this term and yours next," said Susan, unruffled. She really was very good at handling people, Neville thought. She was going to make an excellent head girl.
"That'll do, I suppose," Ernie muttered.
"What about clubs and Quidditch and things?" demanded Zacharias.
"Well, Professor McGonagall isn't certain whether we'll be going ahead with Quidditch this year," Ernie said, eliciting a chorus of protest. He held up a hand for silence. "We don't know how many people will turn up at school, anyway - there may not be enough for teams, she said."
"And any club meetings should be over by eight, so you'll have plenty of time," Susan added, passing out rolls of parchment. "If you really do have a problem, though, it should be easy enough to swap with someone in your house. Pass those along, please. Does everyone have one? OK, feel free to go and keep an eye on the kids now. I'm going to see what those nightmare Beaverly twins are up to. Last year, one of them dropped a penknife out of a window, and I caught her just as she was about to pull the communication cord." She smiled and then squeezed her way out of the compartment, followed by the rest of the Hufflepuff prefects.
Neville looked at Parvati who, as the only remaining Gryffindor girl in their year, had replaced Hermione as prefect by default. She smiled at him. "Shall we take a wander?"
"Actually, Neville, could I have a quick word?" asked Ginny. "Sorry, Parvati."
"Er, yeah, of course." Neville rarely found himself the objective of one attractive girl, let alone two. He glanced apologetically at Parvati, but she didn't appear to have taken offence.
"No problem," she said gaily. "Hey, Padma!" She linked arms with her sister, and they made their way out of the carriage together.
"Are you having a private word, or can I join you?" asked Luna. She looked oddly normal for her, with the exception of her shoes which, Neville realised, were actually clogs.
"Did you have a good time in Norway?" he asked when Ginny nodded and gestured for them to follow her.
"Oh, yes!" Luna said. "It's a truly beautiful country, you know - all lakes and mountains, and barely any people."
"Find any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?" asked Ginny, flashing them a grin.
"No," said Luna seriously. "But we did find a lot of trolls! Dad tried to negotiate with them - he thought they might be persuaded to join a league he's setting up, for the protection of non-mythical species, but they weren't very interested. Still, we had an exciting time." She pushed her hair back, and Neville noticed that she was wearing earrings adorned with what looked like straw goats.
"Did you get any souvenirs?" he asked. He had never been further abroad than a daytrip to France; Norway looked impossibly exotic, if Luna's attire was anything to go by.
"Yes!" said Luna eagerly, indicating the clogs and the earrings. "Do you like them?"
Neville was saved from answering by Ginny, who pushed open a compartment door. "This one's empty. Come on."
Once they were all seated, she looked around seriously. "Harry's coming to the meeting tomorrow night," she began.
"Oh, lovely," said Luna. "Will he bring Ronald and Hermione?"
"Yeah, I think so." Ginny pulled her ponytail tighter.
"I do like Harry," remarked Luna. "He's always very nice to me. Ronald can be rude sometimes, but Harry never is."
"Yeah, well," said Ginny shortly. "The thing is, they're looking for something. Somethings, actually. They're looking outside of Hogwarts, but they need our help, because some of the things might be hidden here, and if they're not, there might be clues to their whereabouts here."
Neville felt a chilly thrill at the thought of being involved in the struggle against Voldemort again. He had been hurt last year when, after he'd fought Death Eaters and been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of Mysteries, Harry, Ron and Hermione had reverted to their usual vaguely affectionate attitude towards him the following term. He'd hoped that he might finally become friends with them - not as close friends as they were with one another, obviously, but someone whom they valued. He had noticed a difference in the way they treated him - there was increased respect, for one thing. But, although he'd loyally carried his DA coin everywhere, he still suspected that they forgot all about him when he was not present.
Now, it seemed that they'd remembered him after all. Or at least, Ginny had.
"Is this like the search for Rowena Ravenclaw's tapestry?" inquired Luna.
Ginny stared at her. "Well, yes, that sort of thing. You, er, don't happen to know where it is, do you?"
"My father says it's been lost for generations. It was stolen from a friend of his father's about forty years ago - in fact, people thought he was murdered for it. My grandfather didn't think that was quite right, though." She tapped her clogs against the floor; the noise sounded like drums echoing the ch-cha of the train.
"Oh." Ginny sounded crestfallen. "Well, we'll come back to that - it does definitely sound like the sort of thing the others'll be interested in. Anyway, the point is, they're looking for stuff that belonged to Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, and so they think the clues might be at school. That's why they're coming tomorrow night, but they want us to do some detective work, too."
Neville cleared his throat. "So, you're not interested in Slytherin's relics?"
"No," said Ginny. "At least, they think they've found one of those, and they're on the trail of another one. So it's mainly the other three that they're looking for." She wrinkled her nose. "Harry wants to talk to Zacharias - he thinks he might be a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff."
Neville was tempted to save his information for the following evening, but he knew that Ginny would value being the one to give Harry good news, even more than he did. So he told them what he knew.
Next evening's meeting passed off chaotically, if enthusiastically. Neville took charge of a noisy crowd of Gryffindor second years, and was intrigued to note the awe with which they treated him. He soon had them practising Banishing spells with aplomb, amid many giggles when their wands caught one another instead of the cushions that they were supposed to be practising on. Neville risked a glance across the Hall, and found Harry deep in conversation with Zacharias, who looked rather pleased with himself. Meanwhile, Ginny and Jack Sloper, the other sixth year Gryffindor prefect, were instructing the entire first year intake, which amounted to eight. The sorting ceremony had been brief the previous evening.
Close by, Luna and a rather wide-eyed Padma were demonstrating duelling techniques to a group of fifth years. As Neville watched, Luna shot a spear of yellow light towards Padma, who dived aside. An instant before the spear caught her, it dissolved into buttercups that left her looking like a flower maiden. Neville grinned as he turned back to his protégés.
The Slytherins had been the real surprise, he thought, as he helped a curly-haired second year with her wand technique. Neville estimated that around two thirds of them had turned up, including all six prefects. So far, only two scuffles had erupted, both between Gryffindor and Slytherin third and fourth years, who were, as Ginny had remarked with a toss of her hair, 'at that age'.
Next time Neville looked up, he found Hermione approaching with a smile.
"They're doing wonderfully, Neville," she exclaimed. "When I think of the way we struggled with that charm in our fourth year - you must be a born teacher!"
"Oh, well," muttered Neville. "I always found things so hard to remember, maybe it's easy for me to explain now that I've finally grasped them. Um, how are things?"
Hermione looked serious. "Well, we've lots to do, obviously - in fact, one of the reasons we're here is so that we can pick up our work schedules for the term. I've promised Professor McGonagall that I'll make sure the other two pass their NEWTs!" She smiled at him, and then moved on to greet Luna and Padma.
Neville was looking anxiously at his watch by the time Ernie and Susan called a halt to the session. He and Parvati were due to patrol Gryffindor Tower that night, and by the time Harry had fended off everyone who wanted to ask him what was going on and why he hadn't come back to school, Neville had only twenty minutes of free time left.
The six of them hurried towards the nearest classroom, which happened to be an arithmancy one, its walls covered in mysterious charts.
"I gather you've got some news for us," Harry said, looking hard at Ginny.
"Neville has," Ginny answered with a gesture in his direction. "In fact, Luna might have, too. But Neville first, I think. He's the one with solid information."
Conscious of being in the spotlight for once, Neville spoke as clearly and concisely as he could. "It's a mixture of things that Gran and Professor Sprout told me, and then something I noticed in one of the greenhouses - number six."
"We've never been in there," Harry said, his glance encompassing Ron and Hermione, who nodded.
"I have," put in Ginny, "but I didn't notice anything odd."
"When did you-" began Ron suspiciously, but Ginny and Hermione both glared at him, and he subsided with an embarrassed smile. "Er, never mind. Carry on, Neville."
"Er," said Neville, whose train of thought was easily derailed. "Well, firstly my gran told me this funny thing that my mum had talked about a lot when she was pregnant. With me, I mean. She was - she's a Hufflepuff, and Gran says I get my green thumb from her." He paused, and his listeners nodded sympathetically. "Anyway, she said it was a-a sort of cup. A magical one, obviously," he added hurriedly. "My mum saw it sometimes - only on certain days, and she never told Gran when, or if she did, Gran's forgotten. It used to shimmer, and sometimes it was black, but other days it was all the colours of the rainbow. Mum reckoned it was really powerful, only she never found out what it did. She was afraid of it, I think - especially as she could never get her friends to see it. She'd heard of Helga Hufflepuff's cup, which had gone missing when some old lady died ages ago, and she told my gran that she always wondered whether that was it." He looked at Harry. "Might that be the kind of thing you're looking for?"
"Carry on," said Harry in a strangled voice.
Neville felt more self-conscious than ever. "Well, when I came here, I remembered Mum's story, and so I always looked for that cup in Herbology. Only I never saw it until last year - only NEWT students have access to greenhouse six."
Ron stared meaningfully at Ginny, who ignored him. "It was the way your mum described it, was it?" she asked quietly.
Neville nodded. "Sort of shimmery - it was really difficult to focus on it. My eyes kept slipping to either side of it."
"A Repelling charm," said Hermione at once.
"I suppose so. And it changes colour, like my mum said, and it feels really powerful." Neville shivered. "Sometimes in a good way, but sometimes in a really evil way."
"I know you said it's hard to look at," said Harry, "but can you describe it in a bit more detail?"
Neville shut his eyes. "It's not very big - almost like a teacup, only with a long, er, flute thing." He mimed running his thumb and index finger down the stem of a wineglass, and everyone nodded. "Oh, and it's got two handles instead of one."
Harry sat back with a sigh. "That sounds like it."
"So did you try and touch it, or anything?" asked Ron eagerly.
Neville shook his head. "I had a go once, but I couldn't get near it - my hands kept sliding around it. I'm - I'm not brave like you lot. I meant to try again, but that was June, and then, well, you know what happened in July."
There was a brief silence while everyone digested this information.
"You said Professor Sprout had told you something, too?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah. Um, after I tried to touch it, I asked her about it. At first she tried to brazen it out - just denied that there was anything there. When I asked her if I could show it to her, she got really angry. Said Professor Dumbledore knew all about it, and that it was extremely dangerous and should be left alone."
He glanced up. The others all looked puzzled.
"But if Professor Dumbledore knew where it was," Hermione said slowly, "why didn't he deal with it years ago?"
Harry frowned for a moment. "Maybe he wasn't certain what it was until last year," he suggested. "I dunno - I got the impression he wasn't completely sure about the Ho- things, until I got that memory from Slughorn."
"But if he knew the cup was there, surely he knew what it was," said Neville, bewildered.
Ginny sat forward, watching Harry with hawkish eyes. "I believe, Neville, that this is one of those things that only certain people are allowed to know." The edge to her tone made Neville grateful that he wasn't one of those 'certain people', and probably never would be.
"Look, Ginny, the less you know, the less vulnerable you are," said Harry urgently. They stared at one another silently; neither of them moved, as far as Neville could tell, but they must have resolved something, because suddenly they were smiling at one another, a warm, tender look that excluded everyone else.
"I understand that," said Ginny finally. "But what you need to understand is that if Neville's going to lead this little expedition of yours, he needs to know what he's up against."
"Who said anything about Neville leading it?" demanded Harry in such a puzzled tone that Neville was torn between relief and indignation.
"She's right, you know, mate," put in Ron unexpectedly. "Chances are, Neville's going to be the only one of us who can see the cup, at least at first, so he needs to know what it might be."
"I agree," said Hermione firmly. She looked at Ginny. "And I also think that if we're involving Ginny and Luna in looking for these things, then they deserve to know the truth, as well."
"Thank you, Hermione," said Ginny.
"Yes, but-" Harry began.
"But me, no buts." Neville thought she sounded remarkably like her mother, whom he'd often watched rather longingly as she bossed her brood about at Kings Cross station. "If we follow up on things, then we need to know what they really are. Anyway," she added calmly, "I have a pretty good idea of what they are, anyway. They're pieces of Voldemort's soul, or life, or something, aren't they?" She pronounced her statement with studied indifference, and sat back amid splutters and gasps.
"Ginny!" Harry glanced urgently around the room, and then glared at her. "You can't just say that."
"Why not?" retorted Ginny. "You did. I heard you, at the wedding, and you mentioned that awful diary, and I think I have a right to know if I'm right, since it almost killed me." Her cheeks were flushed, and Neville caught a flash of tears in her eyes.
"What almost killed you?" he blurted as Harry reached a hand out towards Ginny; he pulled it away briefly, and then laid it on her arm.
"All right," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, all of you," he glanced around the table, "for not being straight with you. The truth is-"
"Hang on," interrupted Hermione, moving her wand in a complicated pattern with an ease that Neville envied. "OK. No one can hear us now."
Harry caught Neville's eye. "Look," he said quietly, "I'm being serious here. The more people who know about this, the less chance we have of succeeding. I need you all to promise you won't tell anyone about it."
Ginny pushed her hair back. "I won't tell anyone," she declared.
Neville considered. "I won't tell anyone willingly," he said, "but I've no idea how I might behave if I was - er, tortured, or anything."
Harry shot him an inexplicably guilty look. "None of us know what we'd do under torture," he said. "What that means is that we have to keep this as quiet as possible, so we don't find out."
"Do you understand, Luna?" asked Hermione.
Luna eyed her calmly. "Of course. I keep secrets all the time, for my father. Another one won't matter. Although, of course, I appreciate you telling me," she added with a bland smile.
Hermione subsided with a worried look at Ron, who took her hand, and then Harry began speaking.
"So, you think there are four parts left?" asked Neville ten minutes later. "Apart from the bit in his body, obviously."
"Yeah," said Harry, inspecting a fingernail. "And the thing is, we haven't any idea where they might be, or what they are, apart from the locket. This - this cup, it sounds like the one I saw with Tom Riddle and Hepzibah Smith, but we might be way off the mark. It could be anything."
"Oh, no." Neville had caught sight of the clock. "I was supposed to be patrolling Gryffindor Tower fifteen minutes ago. Parvati's going to kill me." He stood up, his chair scraping the floor raucously. "Sorry, Harry...everyone."
"Wait," called Hermione when he was halfway to the door, "do you know when it'll appear again? The cup, I mean."
"The nineteenth of September," he said over his shoulder. "Come back then, and we'll have a try, OK? Bye...nice seeing you all!" He hurtled down the corridor towards Gryffindor Tower.
Neville kept a careful watch over the place where the cup had appeared last summer, but he saw nothing for the next fortnight. On the eighteenth, he felt the plants in that corner reacting; they always wilted slightly, while the Venomous Tentacula a few metres away bloomed a bloody, dark red. He had not yet worked out whether this was a result of the magic surrounding the cup, or whether it was linked more directly: perhaps it was some kind of signal? At any rate, he felt confident that the cup would appear the following evening as anticipated.
Harry and Ron had promised to arrive late the following night, after everyone had gone to bed. It had been agreed that Luna would not take part in this first attempt on the Horcrux; she had not seemed particularly disappointed by this, but Hermione had pre-empted any ruffled feelings by requesting her help with some research on known Ravenclaw artefacts, including the tapestry.
Neville and Ginny loitered in the Common Room that evening, waiting for everyone else to go to bed. Dean, Seamus and Parvati stayed later than was strictly fair, Neville thought - Dean, especially, did not seem to want to leave Ginny alone with him - but eventually they were the only two left.
"Where are they?" demanded Ginny through a yawn. "Harry said they'd be here by one at the latest, and it's nearly two!"
"Maybe they were hiding from the others?" suggested Neville. "Let's check the corridor." He pulled the door open cautiously, but there was no sign of life on the other side of it. Even the Fat Lady was snoozing peacefully in her frame.
"I hope nothing's happened," said Ginny. "It's not like them to just not turn up."
The Fat Lady only opened one eye, but she managed to look remarkably disapproving. "You two should not be out of bed," she remarked. "I don't care who the prefects are this year - and goodness knows, there seem to have been some strange choices, not you two, of course, dears - nobody should be leaving the safety of the tower after curfew." She adjusted her skirts with a wobbly flounce.
"Sorry," said Ginny. "I was just wondering - have you seen Harry? Or Ron and Hermione?"
"I have, since you ask," said the Fat Lady, yawning noisily. "They were here about an hour ago, at least, Harry and Ron were, and they gave me a terrible time because I wouldn't let them in - they're not signed up this year, you see. Then Hermione ran up and said something about a...ooh, what was it? A black locket, I think. And they all hurried off again, without so much as a by your leave, after keeping me awake all that time!"
Mouth set in a straight line, Ginny looked at Neville. "Clearly, they've found something better to do tonight."
"Oh," he said, feeling vaguely disappointed. "Well, I suppose we'd better get to bed, then. I've got extra Charms practice in the morning before lessons."
"Hang on," said Ginny. "Maybe we ought to deal with this ourselves. That's why they let us into their secret, isn't it, so we can help them?"
"I don't know," said Neville tentatively. "I'm not sure that would be a very good idea."
"Of course it is!" Ginny exclaimed. "There'll just be the two of us instead of five, and that's probably easier - less organisation involved. Let's do it!"
Ginny was like a runaway train when she had set her mind on something, and Neville decided that protest was futile. "All right."
"Ahem," put in the Fat Lady, "where do you two think you're going?"
"It's for a good cause, honestly," Ginny pleaded.
She sniffed. "It always is. Nearly a hundred and fifty years I've been here, you know, and Gryffindors always believe that getting up to mischief is a good cause."
"Look," said Ginny, "we're going down to greenhouse six. If we're not back in three hours, you can raise the alarm, OK?"
"Oh, you expect me to wait up for you now, do you?" demanded the Fat Lady. She yawned again, and shooed them away. "Don't blame me if you end up dead, with nothing but a portrait to remind people of you!"
They made their way silently down to the main door and out into the courtyard. The grounds were dark, but surprisingly noisy, and Neville jumped several times when owls screeched overhead or creatures chattered in the undergrowth at the edges of the path.
When they finally reached the entrance to the greenhouse, Ginny laid a hand on his arm. "Listen, I'm sorry if I dragged you down here. Maybe it was a bit rash." She hesitated. "You heard Harry's story about how he and Professor Dumbledore got the fake Horcrux out of the cave. There were some serious enchantments in the way. Harry reckons Dumbledore might've been dying anyway, by the time they got back here, before Snape..."
Neville swallowed. "I know."
"You're in charge of this one. If you don't want to do it now, there's still time to go back."
Neville looked at her carefully by the light of the lantern that hung from the roof of the greenhouse, and found no trace of contempt in her expression, only concern. She was worried that he might die, just as Professor Dumbledore had. He considered that for a moment. Of course, he didn't want to die. But plenty of other people had risked their lives to defeat Voldemort; Harry, Hermione and Ron might be fighting him right now. What right did he have to do less than his parents had? His grandmother would be upset, obviously, but his parents - well, they would be proud, wouldn't they, if they knew?
He smiled at Ginny and placed his wand against the doorknob. "What, and wait another month for the cup to appear again?" He muttered the charm that Professor Sprout had taught him at the beginning of the previous year, reasoning that if Ginny didn't understand the words, then he had not betrayed the trust placed in him. The door clicked, and he pushed it open.
"Where is it?" whispered Ginny. The room was dimly lit, presumably for the benefit of the plants, which included some of the rarest in the school's nurseries, as well as several more prosaic ones. Neville pointed towards the darkest corner of the room where the cup was shining, oddly similar in shape and colour to the Amsterdam tulips that surrounded it.
Ginny shrugged. "I can't see it, but I wasn't expecting to." Still, she looked disappointed.
"It's right between those two tulips," said Neville in an undertone. He walked forward and reached out to the cup gingerly - but, as before, his hands merely slid around it, rustling the flowers on either side.
"It's between them?" Ginny stared. "How come I can't see it?"
"I think it's something to do with attenuation," said Neville humbly. "Professor Sprout had me working here at all hours of the day and night last year, and it wasn't until June that I saw it. Maybe you need to spend lots of time here."
"Hmm. Finite incantatem!" The cup did not move, and Ginny frowned for a moment. "OK. If you can see it but not touch it..." She moved forward to stand beside him and reached a firm hand between the tulips that he had indicated. Neville watched in disbelief as her fingers moved inexorably towards the gleaming cup. Just before they touched, it flashed red; he closed his eyes against dazzling light as Ginny gasped. When he looked again, she was cradling her left hand against her chest. "I can touch it, all right," she said wryly.
"Are you OK?" He reached for her hand, but she shook her head and wrung her fingers a few times before inspecting them gingerly.
"I'm fine. I only touched it for a split second - it just gave me a shock. But we need a bit more protection. What are the strongest gloves you could use in here?"
"Dragon skin, I think." Neville turned to Professor Sprout's cupboard and rooted through the assorted goods. After passing out a pair of leathery gloves, he hesitated. "Do you think we might need to protect our eyes, too, and our ears?"
"It can't hurt to be prepared," said Ginny. "Pass 'em over!" Her voice was bright but brittle.
"So now what do we do?" asked Neville, when they were kitted out with gloves, ear-muffs and bandanas that could be used to quickly cover hands, ears and eyes.
Ginny shrugged, pulling on her gloves. "We try again. I'll grab the cup; you get ready to cover your eyes, and see if you can think of a spell that might help. Oh, and we both cast Finite incantatem at every opportunity."
"Right." Neville stared at the cup. The red light was gone; it might have been his imagination, but the shimmering cup seemed to be waiting. For them? Or for Voldemort?
Ginny moved forward slowly, until she was standing in front of the two tulips and the cup once more. She reached out a gloved hand and groped tentatively; Neville closed his eyes again against the flash of red, but when he opened them this time, Ginny was smiling grimly. "I can touch it now," she said. "It still feels hot, but it shouldn't burn. Too much, anyway." She plunged her hand in again; Neville was surprised that she didn't simply knock the cup over, but it must have been fixed in place. This time, she took hold of it and yanked. There was a gloop as the cup came away from the soil, bringing with it several long, green tendrils, and then she was holding it aloft, throwing spells at it with her wand hand.
Neville imitated her hurriedly, but the only apparent effect that their magic had on the cup was to turn it black. No, now it was green. He followed the long green ropes that were now flowing down from the cup, and sprang back. Ginny began stamping her feet vigorously, but it was too late. She was buried to her ankles in Devil's Snare, which was twining rapidly around her legs, while further tendrils snaked out of the cup straight towards her hair.
"Finite incantatem! Don't struggle!" yelled Neville, but Ginny ignored him, kicking out even as her legs were pulled rigid by pulsating green vines. "Don't struggle, it only makes it stronger!" he said desperately.
"She can't hear you."
Neville gazed around; where had that voice come from?
"Help us, please," he said. "Help her!"
"Oh, no." The voice laughed quietly. "It's far too much fun watching you fight."
Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare. How did you combat it? He knew this! It was first year Herbology; there'd been a question about it on his OWL.
"Try water," the voice suggested. "That'll help it grow."
"Shut up," snapped Neville. Fire! That was what they needed. Without stopping to remember the incantation, he thrust his wand out, and fire gusted towards the cup. He hoped that killing the stuff off at its source would be all that was needed; he did not want to burn Ginny in order to save her.
The cup turned dark again as the green tendrils shrivelled and blackened in the flames, before collapsing into ash. The vines imprisoning Ginny did not react quite so quickly, but they began falling away, and Neville burnt them as they hit the floor.
"Oh, well done, young man!" said the voice. Neville gazed around again, but no one was to be seen.
"Where are you?" But Ginny was more important; he hurried forward to help pull the vines from her limbs and hair. "Ginny?"
She looked up at him, pale to the lips. "Thanks, Neville. I should have known what to do there, but I just panicked."
"No problem," he said awkwardly.
"Let me see," said the voice, "are you a Longbottom or a Marlin? I know all the pureblood families, you know."
"Why do you want to know?" demanded Neville. "Why didn't you help us?"
Ginny caught his arm. "It's him!" She gestured at the cup, which she was still holding in one dragon-gloved hand.
"Ah." The voice took on a sharper tone. "Have we met before, young lady?"
"Yes, we damn well have," snapped Ginny.
"Really? You sound intriguing. Do let me out, won't you, so I can have a look at you?"
"Sod off." Ginny raked a hand through her hair, which had been pulled loose in her struggles with the Devil's Snare. "Neville, we have to destroy this thing."
"Temper, temper," said the cup.
"Um, yeah," said Neville. "Do you have any idea how?"
She glared at the cup thoughtfully, pressing her fingers against it as if testing for vulnerabilities. "The diary - Harry had to kill it, sort of. He stabbed it with the basilisk's fang. This cup's made of metal, isn't it? How about if we melted it down?"
"Honestly, I am very intrigued," put in the voice. "Who was your mother, young man? You look like Longbottom stock - so very earthy - but there's a little touch of something else, too."
"My mum was a Marlin," Neville said, just as Ginny said sharply, "Don't answer him, Neville!"
"Ah, I was right!" the voice sang. "Let me see, there was an Alice Marlin when I was at school here in the 1940s."
"That would be my grandmother," Neville said quickly. "Mum was named after her."
"I could tell you some tales about her, you know," said the voice. "She was the school beauty, and the first female Hufflepuff captain to win the Quidditch Cup."
"Shut up, Tom," said Ginny. Neville stared at her in confusion. "That's his name," she said calmly.
There was a brief silence. "I no longer use that name," the voice said coldly.
"Yes, well, it's the one you were born with, so you can live with it, just like everyone else," she remarked, and turned to Neville. "Look, we need to get rid of this."
"Fire. Yeah," said Neville, who was wondering whether there was time for the voice to tell him more about his grandmother before they destroyed the cup. Gran had told him plenty about his father's side of the family, but she'd known very little about his mother's relatives. All he knew was that she was the last of her family - which made him the last of the Marlins, as well as the Longbottoms.
"Yes," said Ginny impatiently. "Neville, put your ear-muffs on, OK? That's what they're there for."
He thought of his parents, living out their interminable lives in St Mungo's; interminable because any excitement was liable to send them into panic attacks that might last for days. "In a minute," he said.
"Yes, quite a character, Alice was," the voice said, and Ginny swore at it before gazing urgently at Neville.
"Look, he's just stalling," she said. "He'll poke about until he finds out enough about you - any minute now he'll be out of that cup, I bet - and then he'll find where you're weakest, and wham, you won't know what's hit you, and he'll be walking about and killing people right, left and centre. I know. You heard what he did to me. This is Voldemort, not some random, leftover bit of magic."
"Thank you, my dear." The sarcastic edge was quite clear this time.
Neville closed his eyes. Voldemort. Here he was, chatting away with the person who had caused his parents to be tortured until they forgot everything but fear, in the hope that he might find out more about where he had come from. He pulled the ear-muffs down with a shame-faced glance at Ginny, who gave him a relieved smile and followed suit.
He looked around. They couldn’t dispose of the cup in here; the Devil's Snare was not the only plant that was vulnerable to fire. He pointed to the door, and Ginny nodded.
The outer grounds were very different in darkness; Neville and Ginny stumbled every few steps, even with their wands to light the way, and at one point Ginny almost dropped the cup in her efforts to remain upright. Finally, they found a flat area beside the lake, which Neville hoped would be far enough from the castle should the fire get out of hand.
Ginny held the cup aloft - was she afraid that if she put it down it would disappear, somehow? - and directed a jet of bluebell flame at it. Fire enveloped the cup, highlighting threadlike veins of what might have been magic, but it seemed to have little effect on the cup itself. Ginny kept her wand trained on it, and nodded to Neville.
"Incendio," he said, or hoped he said, since the ear-muffs were highly effective at shutting out all sound. At any rate, the flames around the cup appeared to gather momentum as blue merged with yellow. He glanced at Ginny, but she was watching the cup, and so he concentrated on making sure that his fire didn't waver.
The thin gold threads that covered the cup began to expand, pulsating through the flames in every direction, until the web became opaque, a gold sheen protecting the cup from the flames. Neville redoubled his efforts, but it seemed as if the magic would never give in, and he wondered if that particular touch had been added by Voldemort, or by Helga Hufflepuff.
The flames dancing around Ginny's hand were white now, which made him even more worried. Her gloves were fireproof, the strongest he knew, but he wasn't certain how much longer they would withstand the concerted efforts of two firebrands.
Suddenly, the cup, or rather the magic surrounding it, turned red, and then black, before exploding into sparks. Ginny didn't flinch as the cup itself became visible again, its colour a dull yellow that was not very different from the flames enveloping it. Slowly, the rim and handles began to wilt, and as they watched, the cup folded inwards.
The tip of Neville's wand was glowing yellow, and he could feel the heat emanating from it despite his gloves. Ginny must have been in pain all this time, he thought, catching sight of her contorted face. She glanced up and mouthed, "Again", and he put all his energy into directing his magic through the wand one last time.
Ginny dropped the crumpling cup, just as white-hot pain shot up Neville's arm. It took all his willpower to hold his wand in place for several more seconds, and then he fainted.
When he opened his eyes, Ginny was huddled beside him, her arm cradled against her body. The cup lay a few feet away; it was whole again, but smaller. Had they failed?
He ripped off his ear-muffs and realised that Ginny was moaning in pain. The glove that she'd used to hold the cup was blackened, and red skin oozed through the material in several places. Neville seized his wand with his left hand, and murmured, "Aguamenti," hoping that the magic wouldn't be affected by his use of the wrong hand.
A jet of water poured onto Ginny's arm, and she looked around gratefully, her good arm reaching automatically for the bad one.
"Don't take that glove off," said Neville urgently as he pulled off her ear-muffs. "We need to get you to the hospital wing."
"The cup?" demanded Ginny weakly. She groaned as she caught sight of it. "Is that it?"
"It's all right," said Neville, more out of hope than anything else. "It's fine, he's gone." He reached for it gingerly; it felt light, but utterly normal. Taking his gloves off, he tried again, and then nodded. "I think it's just reconstituted itself - the way it was before, sort of."
Ginny hauled herself upright, still holding her left arm. "Come on," she said, "let's get it to Harry."
Too exhausted to use magic any longer, they struggled up to the castle by the light of the dawn, arguing quietly about the merits of contacting Harry or Madam Pomfrey.
Recipient: apostrophet
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Ginny, Neville, Luna, Harry, Ron and Hermione
Author's Notes: The giftee requested a friendship story involving members of the DA or OotP. I hope you enjoy this! Thanks very much to the mods for their patience with me.
--
It began on the train, in the prefects' compartment. Ernie finished a long and rather dull speech, which was quite an achievement, Neville thought, given all the excitement that he'd alluded to in it, and then looked around portentously. "Does anyone have anything to add?"
"Yes," said Ginny, who had been making bored faces at Neville for the past ten minutes. She glanced around. "Some of you were members of an organisation called Dumbledore's Army two years ago. For those of you who weren't, the DA was formed to teach us how to defend ourselves, because that Umbridge bat wasn't giving us any practice during Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. Harry started it, and we named it in Professor Dumbledore's honour. Neither of them are here now, and I think that's as good a reason as any to start it up again."
"I think that's an excellent idea," said Ernie, "but what does it have to do with the prefects?"
Neville watched Ginny count her fingers off in an attempt to remain calm. "It's open to anyone who's interested in defending themselves, and in learning how to disarm others." Her gaze fell on Neville and she smiled, "I suspect that'll include a lot of people this year."
"It includes me, for one," said Neville. A couple of people sniggered, but they were drowned out by a chorus of, "And me...And me."
"So we're going to need people to organise groups of students. I propose that each prefect take one group."
Neville caught Luna's eye; she smiled and said dreamily, "I've never been in charge of anyone before. I hope I'll be able to keep order."
Ginny grinned at her. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, OK?"
"Who on earth made her a prefect?" muttered Zacharias Smith to his neighbour, who spluttered. Ginny shot them a filthy look, but Luna forestalled her.
"Professor McGonagall said she thought it might be good for me to have some responsibility, now that the Li sisters have left."
"You'll be fine, Luna," said Padma Patil, looking around sternly for dissenters, although no one looked ready to argue except Zacharias, who merely shrugged.
"You will," agreed Ginny. "One last thing." She paused for breath, and Neville marvelled at the way she had kept the attention of everyone present, just as Ernie had lost it in thirty seconds. "Last time around, there were no Slytherins in the DA. I want to make it clear that anyone who's interested in joining, in any house, will be made welcome."
All eyes inevitably turned to the Slytherin prefects, who had gathered by the window. There was a short silence before Theodore Nott nodded.
"I'd be interested in joining. We could all use the practice." He glanced at Millicent Bulstrode, who was sitting opposite him. "I don't give a shit about politics, but I'm not going to be some sitting duck, waiting to be taken out just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Millicent nodded - grudgingly, Neville thought, but it was better than nothing.
Ginny smiled warily. "All right," she said, "I've got some posters here, for people to put up in the common rooms. The first meeting is tomorrow night in the Great Hall, at eight pm." There was a brief commotion as posters were passed into outstretched hands.
"I hope to see everyone there," put in Susan unexpectedly. She smiled at Ginny. "Thanks for getting things going again, Ginny. Was that all?"
"Yes, thanks."
"All right." Susan coughed and looked down at the parchment in her hands. "The last thing is patrols. Profess- Headmistress McGonagall wants us to patrol the areas around the house quarters between nine and eleven pm every night." A chorus of groans erupted, and she looked around ruefully. "I know, I know. But it's only a little over two nights a week, and mainly it involves hanging around near the entrance to your house, just to make sure nobody we don't want gets in. I've drawn up a rota-"
"So have I," put in Ernie, sounding rather piqued.
"Well, I tell you what, we'll use my rota this term and yours next," said Susan, unruffled. She really was very good at handling people, Neville thought. She was going to make an excellent head girl.
"That'll do, I suppose," Ernie muttered.
"What about clubs and Quidditch and things?" demanded Zacharias.
"Well, Professor McGonagall isn't certain whether we'll be going ahead with Quidditch this year," Ernie said, eliciting a chorus of protest. He held up a hand for silence. "We don't know how many people will turn up at school, anyway - there may not be enough for teams, she said."
"And any club meetings should be over by eight, so you'll have plenty of time," Susan added, passing out rolls of parchment. "If you really do have a problem, though, it should be easy enough to swap with someone in your house. Pass those along, please. Does everyone have one? OK, feel free to go and keep an eye on the kids now. I'm going to see what those nightmare Beaverly twins are up to. Last year, one of them dropped a penknife out of a window, and I caught her just as she was about to pull the communication cord." She smiled and then squeezed her way out of the compartment, followed by the rest of the Hufflepuff prefects.
Neville looked at Parvati who, as the only remaining Gryffindor girl in their year, had replaced Hermione as prefect by default. She smiled at him. "Shall we take a wander?"
"Actually, Neville, could I have a quick word?" asked Ginny. "Sorry, Parvati."
"Er, yeah, of course." Neville rarely found himself the objective of one attractive girl, let alone two. He glanced apologetically at Parvati, but she didn't appear to have taken offence.
"No problem," she said gaily. "Hey, Padma!" She linked arms with her sister, and they made their way out of the carriage together.
"Are you having a private word, or can I join you?" asked Luna. She looked oddly normal for her, with the exception of her shoes which, Neville realised, were actually clogs.
"Did you have a good time in Norway?" he asked when Ginny nodded and gestured for them to follow her.
"Oh, yes!" Luna said. "It's a truly beautiful country, you know - all lakes and mountains, and barely any people."
"Find any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?" asked Ginny, flashing them a grin.
"No," said Luna seriously. "But we did find a lot of trolls! Dad tried to negotiate with them - he thought they might be persuaded to join a league he's setting up, for the protection of non-mythical species, but they weren't very interested. Still, we had an exciting time." She pushed her hair back, and Neville noticed that she was wearing earrings adorned with what looked like straw goats.
"Did you get any souvenirs?" he asked. He had never been further abroad than a daytrip to France; Norway looked impossibly exotic, if Luna's attire was anything to go by.
"Yes!" said Luna eagerly, indicating the clogs and the earrings. "Do you like them?"
Neville was saved from answering by Ginny, who pushed open a compartment door. "This one's empty. Come on."
Once they were all seated, she looked around seriously. "Harry's coming to the meeting tomorrow night," she began.
"Oh, lovely," said Luna. "Will he bring Ronald and Hermione?"
"Yeah, I think so." Ginny pulled her ponytail tighter.
"I do like Harry," remarked Luna. "He's always very nice to me. Ronald can be rude sometimes, but Harry never is."
"Yeah, well," said Ginny shortly. "The thing is, they're looking for something. Somethings, actually. They're looking outside of Hogwarts, but they need our help, because some of the things might be hidden here, and if they're not, there might be clues to their whereabouts here."
Neville felt a chilly thrill at the thought of being involved in the struggle against Voldemort again. He had been hurt last year when, after he'd fought Death Eaters and been tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange in the Department of Mysteries, Harry, Ron and Hermione had reverted to their usual vaguely affectionate attitude towards him the following term. He'd hoped that he might finally become friends with them - not as close friends as they were with one another, obviously, but someone whom they valued. He had noticed a difference in the way they treated him - there was increased respect, for one thing. But, although he'd loyally carried his DA coin everywhere, he still suspected that they forgot all about him when he was not present.
Now, it seemed that they'd remembered him after all. Or at least, Ginny had.
"Is this like the search for Rowena Ravenclaw's tapestry?" inquired Luna.
Ginny stared at her. "Well, yes, that sort of thing. You, er, don't happen to know where it is, do you?"
"My father says it's been lost for generations. It was stolen from a friend of his father's about forty years ago - in fact, people thought he was murdered for it. My grandfather didn't think that was quite right, though." She tapped her clogs against the floor; the noise sounded like drums echoing the ch-cha of the train.
"Oh." Ginny sounded crestfallen. "Well, we'll come back to that - it does definitely sound like the sort of thing the others'll be interested in. Anyway, the point is, they're looking for stuff that belonged to Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, and so they think the clues might be at school. That's why they're coming tomorrow night, but they want us to do some detective work, too."
Neville cleared his throat. "So, you're not interested in Slytherin's relics?"
"No," said Ginny. "At least, they think they've found one of those, and they're on the trail of another one. So it's mainly the other three that they're looking for." She wrinkled her nose. "Harry wants to talk to Zacharias - he thinks he might be a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff."
Neville was tempted to save his information for the following evening, but he knew that Ginny would value being the one to give Harry good news, even more than he did. So he told them what he knew.
Next evening's meeting passed off chaotically, if enthusiastically. Neville took charge of a noisy crowd of Gryffindor second years, and was intrigued to note the awe with which they treated him. He soon had them practising Banishing spells with aplomb, amid many giggles when their wands caught one another instead of the cushions that they were supposed to be practising on. Neville risked a glance across the Hall, and found Harry deep in conversation with Zacharias, who looked rather pleased with himself. Meanwhile, Ginny and Jack Sloper, the other sixth year Gryffindor prefect, were instructing the entire first year intake, which amounted to eight. The sorting ceremony had been brief the previous evening.
Close by, Luna and a rather wide-eyed Padma were demonstrating duelling techniques to a group of fifth years. As Neville watched, Luna shot a spear of yellow light towards Padma, who dived aside. An instant before the spear caught her, it dissolved into buttercups that left her looking like a flower maiden. Neville grinned as he turned back to his protégés.
The Slytherins had been the real surprise, he thought, as he helped a curly-haired second year with her wand technique. Neville estimated that around two thirds of them had turned up, including all six prefects. So far, only two scuffles had erupted, both between Gryffindor and Slytherin third and fourth years, who were, as Ginny had remarked with a toss of her hair, 'at that age'.
Next time Neville looked up, he found Hermione approaching with a smile.
"They're doing wonderfully, Neville," she exclaimed. "When I think of the way we struggled with that charm in our fourth year - you must be a born teacher!"
"Oh, well," muttered Neville. "I always found things so hard to remember, maybe it's easy for me to explain now that I've finally grasped them. Um, how are things?"
Hermione looked serious. "Well, we've lots to do, obviously - in fact, one of the reasons we're here is so that we can pick up our work schedules for the term. I've promised Professor McGonagall that I'll make sure the other two pass their NEWTs!" She smiled at him, and then moved on to greet Luna and Padma.
Neville was looking anxiously at his watch by the time Ernie and Susan called a halt to the session. He and Parvati were due to patrol Gryffindor Tower that night, and by the time Harry had fended off everyone who wanted to ask him what was going on and why he hadn't come back to school, Neville had only twenty minutes of free time left.
The six of them hurried towards the nearest classroom, which happened to be an arithmancy one, its walls covered in mysterious charts.
"I gather you've got some news for us," Harry said, looking hard at Ginny.
"Neville has," Ginny answered with a gesture in his direction. "In fact, Luna might have, too. But Neville first, I think. He's the one with solid information."
Conscious of being in the spotlight for once, Neville spoke as clearly and concisely as he could. "It's a mixture of things that Gran and Professor Sprout told me, and then something I noticed in one of the greenhouses - number six."
"We've never been in there," Harry said, his glance encompassing Ron and Hermione, who nodded.
"I have," put in Ginny, "but I didn't notice anything odd."
"When did you-" began Ron suspiciously, but Ginny and Hermione both glared at him, and he subsided with an embarrassed smile. "Er, never mind. Carry on, Neville."
"Er," said Neville, whose train of thought was easily derailed. "Well, firstly my gran told me this funny thing that my mum had talked about a lot when she was pregnant. With me, I mean. She was - she's a Hufflepuff, and Gran says I get my green thumb from her." He paused, and his listeners nodded sympathetically. "Anyway, she said it was a-a sort of cup. A magical one, obviously," he added hurriedly. "My mum saw it sometimes - only on certain days, and she never told Gran when, or if she did, Gran's forgotten. It used to shimmer, and sometimes it was black, but other days it was all the colours of the rainbow. Mum reckoned it was really powerful, only she never found out what it did. She was afraid of it, I think - especially as she could never get her friends to see it. She'd heard of Helga Hufflepuff's cup, which had gone missing when some old lady died ages ago, and she told my gran that she always wondered whether that was it." He looked at Harry. "Might that be the kind of thing you're looking for?"
"Carry on," said Harry in a strangled voice.
Neville felt more self-conscious than ever. "Well, when I came here, I remembered Mum's story, and so I always looked for that cup in Herbology. Only I never saw it until last year - only NEWT students have access to greenhouse six."
Ron stared meaningfully at Ginny, who ignored him. "It was the way your mum described it, was it?" she asked quietly.
Neville nodded. "Sort of shimmery - it was really difficult to focus on it. My eyes kept slipping to either side of it."
"A Repelling charm," said Hermione at once.
"I suppose so. And it changes colour, like my mum said, and it feels really powerful." Neville shivered. "Sometimes in a good way, but sometimes in a really evil way."
"I know you said it's hard to look at," said Harry, "but can you describe it in a bit more detail?"
Neville shut his eyes. "It's not very big - almost like a teacup, only with a long, er, flute thing." He mimed running his thumb and index finger down the stem of a wineglass, and everyone nodded. "Oh, and it's got two handles instead of one."
Harry sat back with a sigh. "That sounds like it."
"So did you try and touch it, or anything?" asked Ron eagerly.
Neville shook his head. "I had a go once, but I couldn't get near it - my hands kept sliding around it. I'm - I'm not brave like you lot. I meant to try again, but that was June, and then, well, you know what happened in July."
There was a brief silence while everyone digested this information.
"You said Professor Sprout had told you something, too?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah. Um, after I tried to touch it, I asked her about it. At first she tried to brazen it out - just denied that there was anything there. When I asked her if I could show it to her, she got really angry. Said Professor Dumbledore knew all about it, and that it was extremely dangerous and should be left alone."
He glanced up. The others all looked puzzled.
"But if Professor Dumbledore knew where it was," Hermione said slowly, "why didn't he deal with it years ago?"
Harry frowned for a moment. "Maybe he wasn't certain what it was until last year," he suggested. "I dunno - I got the impression he wasn't completely sure about the Ho- things, until I got that memory from Slughorn."
"But if he knew the cup was there, surely he knew what it was," said Neville, bewildered.
Ginny sat forward, watching Harry with hawkish eyes. "I believe, Neville, that this is one of those things that only certain people are allowed to know." The edge to her tone made Neville grateful that he wasn't one of those 'certain people', and probably never would be.
"Look, Ginny, the less you know, the less vulnerable you are," said Harry urgently. They stared at one another silently; neither of them moved, as far as Neville could tell, but they must have resolved something, because suddenly they were smiling at one another, a warm, tender look that excluded everyone else.
"I understand that," said Ginny finally. "But what you need to understand is that if Neville's going to lead this little expedition of yours, he needs to know what he's up against."
"Who said anything about Neville leading it?" demanded Harry in such a puzzled tone that Neville was torn between relief and indignation.
"She's right, you know, mate," put in Ron unexpectedly. "Chances are, Neville's going to be the only one of us who can see the cup, at least at first, so he needs to know what it might be."
"I agree," said Hermione firmly. She looked at Ginny. "And I also think that if we're involving Ginny and Luna in looking for these things, then they deserve to know the truth, as well."
"Thank you, Hermione," said Ginny.
"Yes, but-" Harry began.
"But me, no buts." Neville thought she sounded remarkably like her mother, whom he'd often watched rather longingly as she bossed her brood about at Kings Cross station. "If we follow up on things, then we need to know what they really are. Anyway," she added calmly, "I have a pretty good idea of what they are, anyway. They're pieces of Voldemort's soul, or life, or something, aren't they?" She pronounced her statement with studied indifference, and sat back amid splutters and gasps.
"Ginny!" Harry glanced urgently around the room, and then glared at her. "You can't just say that."
"Why not?" retorted Ginny. "You did. I heard you, at the wedding, and you mentioned that awful diary, and I think I have a right to know if I'm right, since it almost killed me." Her cheeks were flushed, and Neville caught a flash of tears in her eyes.
"What almost killed you?" he blurted as Harry reached a hand out towards Ginny; he pulled it away briefly, and then laid it on her arm.
"All right," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, all of you," he glanced around the table, "for not being straight with you. The truth is-"
"Hang on," interrupted Hermione, moving her wand in a complicated pattern with an ease that Neville envied. "OK. No one can hear us now."
Harry caught Neville's eye. "Look," he said quietly, "I'm being serious here. The more people who know about this, the less chance we have of succeeding. I need you all to promise you won't tell anyone about it."
Ginny pushed her hair back. "I won't tell anyone," she declared.
Neville considered. "I won't tell anyone willingly," he said, "but I've no idea how I might behave if I was - er, tortured, or anything."
Harry shot him an inexplicably guilty look. "None of us know what we'd do under torture," he said. "What that means is that we have to keep this as quiet as possible, so we don't find out."
"Do you understand, Luna?" asked Hermione.
Luna eyed her calmly. "Of course. I keep secrets all the time, for my father. Another one won't matter. Although, of course, I appreciate you telling me," she added with a bland smile.
Hermione subsided with a worried look at Ron, who took her hand, and then Harry began speaking.
"So, you think there are four parts left?" asked Neville ten minutes later. "Apart from the bit in his body, obviously."
"Yeah," said Harry, inspecting a fingernail. "And the thing is, we haven't any idea where they might be, or what they are, apart from the locket. This - this cup, it sounds like the one I saw with Tom Riddle and Hepzibah Smith, but we might be way off the mark. It could be anything."
"Oh, no." Neville had caught sight of the clock. "I was supposed to be patrolling Gryffindor Tower fifteen minutes ago. Parvati's going to kill me." He stood up, his chair scraping the floor raucously. "Sorry, Harry...everyone."
"Wait," called Hermione when he was halfway to the door, "do you know when it'll appear again? The cup, I mean."
"The nineteenth of September," he said over his shoulder. "Come back then, and we'll have a try, OK? Bye...nice seeing you all!" He hurtled down the corridor towards Gryffindor Tower.
Neville kept a careful watch over the place where the cup had appeared last summer, but he saw nothing for the next fortnight. On the eighteenth, he felt the plants in that corner reacting; they always wilted slightly, while the Venomous Tentacula a few metres away bloomed a bloody, dark red. He had not yet worked out whether this was a result of the magic surrounding the cup, or whether it was linked more directly: perhaps it was some kind of signal? At any rate, he felt confident that the cup would appear the following evening as anticipated.
Harry and Ron had promised to arrive late the following night, after everyone had gone to bed. It had been agreed that Luna would not take part in this first attempt on the Horcrux; she had not seemed particularly disappointed by this, but Hermione had pre-empted any ruffled feelings by requesting her help with some research on known Ravenclaw artefacts, including the tapestry.
Neville and Ginny loitered in the Common Room that evening, waiting for everyone else to go to bed. Dean, Seamus and Parvati stayed later than was strictly fair, Neville thought - Dean, especially, did not seem to want to leave Ginny alone with him - but eventually they were the only two left.
"Where are they?" demanded Ginny through a yawn. "Harry said they'd be here by one at the latest, and it's nearly two!"
"Maybe they were hiding from the others?" suggested Neville. "Let's check the corridor." He pulled the door open cautiously, but there was no sign of life on the other side of it. Even the Fat Lady was snoozing peacefully in her frame.
"I hope nothing's happened," said Ginny. "It's not like them to just not turn up."
The Fat Lady only opened one eye, but she managed to look remarkably disapproving. "You two should not be out of bed," she remarked. "I don't care who the prefects are this year - and goodness knows, there seem to have been some strange choices, not you two, of course, dears - nobody should be leaving the safety of the tower after curfew." She adjusted her skirts with a wobbly flounce.
"Sorry," said Ginny. "I was just wondering - have you seen Harry? Or Ron and Hermione?"
"I have, since you ask," said the Fat Lady, yawning noisily. "They were here about an hour ago, at least, Harry and Ron were, and they gave me a terrible time because I wouldn't let them in - they're not signed up this year, you see. Then Hermione ran up and said something about a...ooh, what was it? A black locket, I think. And they all hurried off again, without so much as a by your leave, after keeping me awake all that time!"
Mouth set in a straight line, Ginny looked at Neville. "Clearly, they've found something better to do tonight."
"Oh," he said, feeling vaguely disappointed. "Well, I suppose we'd better get to bed, then. I've got extra Charms practice in the morning before lessons."
"Hang on," said Ginny. "Maybe we ought to deal with this ourselves. That's why they let us into their secret, isn't it, so we can help them?"
"I don't know," said Neville tentatively. "I'm not sure that would be a very good idea."
"Of course it is!" Ginny exclaimed. "There'll just be the two of us instead of five, and that's probably easier - less organisation involved. Let's do it!"
Ginny was like a runaway train when she had set her mind on something, and Neville decided that protest was futile. "All right."
"Ahem," put in the Fat Lady, "where do you two think you're going?"
"It's for a good cause, honestly," Ginny pleaded.
She sniffed. "It always is. Nearly a hundred and fifty years I've been here, you know, and Gryffindors always believe that getting up to mischief is a good cause."
"Look," said Ginny, "we're going down to greenhouse six. If we're not back in three hours, you can raise the alarm, OK?"
"Oh, you expect me to wait up for you now, do you?" demanded the Fat Lady. She yawned again, and shooed them away. "Don't blame me if you end up dead, with nothing but a portrait to remind people of you!"
They made their way silently down to the main door and out into the courtyard. The grounds were dark, but surprisingly noisy, and Neville jumped several times when owls screeched overhead or creatures chattered in the undergrowth at the edges of the path.
When they finally reached the entrance to the greenhouse, Ginny laid a hand on his arm. "Listen, I'm sorry if I dragged you down here. Maybe it was a bit rash." She hesitated. "You heard Harry's story about how he and Professor Dumbledore got the fake Horcrux out of the cave. There were some serious enchantments in the way. Harry reckons Dumbledore might've been dying anyway, by the time they got back here, before Snape..."
Neville swallowed. "I know."
"You're in charge of this one. If you don't want to do it now, there's still time to go back."
Neville looked at her carefully by the light of the lantern that hung from the roof of the greenhouse, and found no trace of contempt in her expression, only concern. She was worried that he might die, just as Professor Dumbledore had. He considered that for a moment. Of course, he didn't want to die. But plenty of other people had risked their lives to defeat Voldemort; Harry, Hermione and Ron might be fighting him right now. What right did he have to do less than his parents had? His grandmother would be upset, obviously, but his parents - well, they would be proud, wouldn't they, if they knew?
He smiled at Ginny and placed his wand against the doorknob. "What, and wait another month for the cup to appear again?" He muttered the charm that Professor Sprout had taught him at the beginning of the previous year, reasoning that if Ginny didn't understand the words, then he had not betrayed the trust placed in him. The door clicked, and he pushed it open.
"Where is it?" whispered Ginny. The room was dimly lit, presumably for the benefit of the plants, which included some of the rarest in the school's nurseries, as well as several more prosaic ones. Neville pointed towards the darkest corner of the room where the cup was shining, oddly similar in shape and colour to the Amsterdam tulips that surrounded it.
Ginny shrugged. "I can't see it, but I wasn't expecting to." Still, she looked disappointed.
"It's right between those two tulips," said Neville in an undertone. He walked forward and reached out to the cup gingerly - but, as before, his hands merely slid around it, rustling the flowers on either side.
"It's between them?" Ginny stared. "How come I can't see it?"
"I think it's something to do with attenuation," said Neville humbly. "Professor Sprout had me working here at all hours of the day and night last year, and it wasn't until June that I saw it. Maybe you need to spend lots of time here."
"Hmm. Finite incantatem!" The cup did not move, and Ginny frowned for a moment. "OK. If you can see it but not touch it..." She moved forward to stand beside him and reached a firm hand between the tulips that he had indicated. Neville watched in disbelief as her fingers moved inexorably towards the gleaming cup. Just before they touched, it flashed red; he closed his eyes against dazzling light as Ginny gasped. When he looked again, she was cradling her left hand against her chest. "I can touch it, all right," she said wryly.
"Are you OK?" He reached for her hand, but she shook her head and wrung her fingers a few times before inspecting them gingerly.
"I'm fine. I only touched it for a split second - it just gave me a shock. But we need a bit more protection. What are the strongest gloves you could use in here?"
"Dragon skin, I think." Neville turned to Professor Sprout's cupboard and rooted through the assorted goods. After passing out a pair of leathery gloves, he hesitated. "Do you think we might need to protect our eyes, too, and our ears?"
"It can't hurt to be prepared," said Ginny. "Pass 'em over!" Her voice was bright but brittle.
"So now what do we do?" asked Neville, when they were kitted out with gloves, ear-muffs and bandanas that could be used to quickly cover hands, ears and eyes.
Ginny shrugged, pulling on her gloves. "We try again. I'll grab the cup; you get ready to cover your eyes, and see if you can think of a spell that might help. Oh, and we both cast Finite incantatem at every opportunity."
"Right." Neville stared at the cup. The red light was gone; it might have been his imagination, but the shimmering cup seemed to be waiting. For them? Or for Voldemort?
Ginny moved forward slowly, until she was standing in front of the two tulips and the cup once more. She reached out a gloved hand and groped tentatively; Neville closed his eyes again against the flash of red, but when he opened them this time, Ginny was smiling grimly. "I can touch it now," she said. "It still feels hot, but it shouldn't burn. Too much, anyway." She plunged her hand in again; Neville was surprised that she didn't simply knock the cup over, but it must have been fixed in place. This time, she took hold of it and yanked. There was a gloop as the cup came away from the soil, bringing with it several long, green tendrils, and then she was holding it aloft, throwing spells at it with her wand hand.
Neville imitated her hurriedly, but the only apparent effect that their magic had on the cup was to turn it black. No, now it was green. He followed the long green ropes that were now flowing down from the cup, and sprang back. Ginny began stamping her feet vigorously, but it was too late. She was buried to her ankles in Devil's Snare, which was twining rapidly around her legs, while further tendrils snaked out of the cup straight towards her hair.
"Finite incantatem! Don't struggle!" yelled Neville, but Ginny ignored him, kicking out even as her legs were pulled rigid by pulsating green vines. "Don't struggle, it only makes it stronger!" he said desperately.
"She can't hear you."
Neville gazed around; where had that voice come from?
"Help us, please," he said. "Help her!"
"Oh, no." The voice laughed quietly. "It's far too much fun watching you fight."
Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare. How did you combat it? He knew this! It was first year Herbology; there'd been a question about it on his OWL.
"Try water," the voice suggested. "That'll help it grow."
"Shut up," snapped Neville. Fire! That was what they needed. Without stopping to remember the incantation, he thrust his wand out, and fire gusted towards the cup. He hoped that killing the stuff off at its source would be all that was needed; he did not want to burn Ginny in order to save her.
The cup turned dark again as the green tendrils shrivelled and blackened in the flames, before collapsing into ash. The vines imprisoning Ginny did not react quite so quickly, but they began falling away, and Neville burnt them as they hit the floor.
"Oh, well done, young man!" said the voice. Neville gazed around again, but no one was to be seen.
"Where are you?" But Ginny was more important; he hurried forward to help pull the vines from her limbs and hair. "Ginny?"
She looked up at him, pale to the lips. "Thanks, Neville. I should have known what to do there, but I just panicked."
"No problem," he said awkwardly.
"Let me see," said the voice, "are you a Longbottom or a Marlin? I know all the pureblood families, you know."
"Why do you want to know?" demanded Neville. "Why didn't you help us?"
Ginny caught his arm. "It's him!" She gestured at the cup, which she was still holding in one dragon-gloved hand.
"Ah." The voice took on a sharper tone. "Have we met before, young lady?"
"Yes, we damn well have," snapped Ginny.
"Really? You sound intriguing. Do let me out, won't you, so I can have a look at you?"
"Sod off." Ginny raked a hand through her hair, which had been pulled loose in her struggles with the Devil's Snare. "Neville, we have to destroy this thing."
"Temper, temper," said the cup.
"Um, yeah," said Neville. "Do you have any idea how?"
She glared at the cup thoughtfully, pressing her fingers against it as if testing for vulnerabilities. "The diary - Harry had to kill it, sort of. He stabbed it with the basilisk's fang. This cup's made of metal, isn't it? How about if we melted it down?"
"Honestly, I am very intrigued," put in the voice. "Who was your mother, young man? You look like Longbottom stock - so very earthy - but there's a little touch of something else, too."
"My mum was a Marlin," Neville said, just as Ginny said sharply, "Don't answer him, Neville!"
"Ah, I was right!" the voice sang. "Let me see, there was an Alice Marlin when I was at school here in the 1940s."
"That would be my grandmother," Neville said quickly. "Mum was named after her."
"I could tell you some tales about her, you know," said the voice. "She was the school beauty, and the first female Hufflepuff captain to win the Quidditch Cup."
"Shut up, Tom," said Ginny. Neville stared at her in confusion. "That's his name," she said calmly.
There was a brief silence. "I no longer use that name," the voice said coldly.
"Yes, well, it's the one you were born with, so you can live with it, just like everyone else," she remarked, and turned to Neville. "Look, we need to get rid of this."
"Fire. Yeah," said Neville, who was wondering whether there was time for the voice to tell him more about his grandmother before they destroyed the cup. Gran had told him plenty about his father's side of the family, but she'd known very little about his mother's relatives. All he knew was that she was the last of her family - which made him the last of the Marlins, as well as the Longbottoms.
"Yes," said Ginny impatiently. "Neville, put your ear-muffs on, OK? That's what they're there for."
He thought of his parents, living out their interminable lives in St Mungo's; interminable because any excitement was liable to send them into panic attacks that might last for days. "In a minute," he said.
"Yes, quite a character, Alice was," the voice said, and Ginny swore at it before gazing urgently at Neville.
"Look, he's just stalling," she said. "He'll poke about until he finds out enough about you - any minute now he'll be out of that cup, I bet - and then he'll find where you're weakest, and wham, you won't know what's hit you, and he'll be walking about and killing people right, left and centre. I know. You heard what he did to me. This is Voldemort, not some random, leftover bit of magic."
"Thank you, my dear." The sarcastic edge was quite clear this time.
Neville closed his eyes. Voldemort. Here he was, chatting away with the person who had caused his parents to be tortured until they forgot everything but fear, in the hope that he might find out more about where he had come from. He pulled the ear-muffs down with a shame-faced glance at Ginny, who gave him a relieved smile and followed suit.
He looked around. They couldn’t dispose of the cup in here; the Devil's Snare was not the only plant that was vulnerable to fire. He pointed to the door, and Ginny nodded.
The outer grounds were very different in darkness; Neville and Ginny stumbled every few steps, even with their wands to light the way, and at one point Ginny almost dropped the cup in her efforts to remain upright. Finally, they found a flat area beside the lake, which Neville hoped would be far enough from the castle should the fire get out of hand.
Ginny held the cup aloft - was she afraid that if she put it down it would disappear, somehow? - and directed a jet of bluebell flame at it. Fire enveloped the cup, highlighting threadlike veins of what might have been magic, but it seemed to have little effect on the cup itself. Ginny kept her wand trained on it, and nodded to Neville.
"Incendio," he said, or hoped he said, since the ear-muffs were highly effective at shutting out all sound. At any rate, the flames around the cup appeared to gather momentum as blue merged with yellow. He glanced at Ginny, but she was watching the cup, and so he concentrated on making sure that his fire didn't waver.
The thin gold threads that covered the cup began to expand, pulsating through the flames in every direction, until the web became opaque, a gold sheen protecting the cup from the flames. Neville redoubled his efforts, but it seemed as if the magic would never give in, and he wondered if that particular touch had been added by Voldemort, or by Helga Hufflepuff.
The flames dancing around Ginny's hand were white now, which made him even more worried. Her gloves were fireproof, the strongest he knew, but he wasn't certain how much longer they would withstand the concerted efforts of two firebrands.
Suddenly, the cup, or rather the magic surrounding it, turned red, and then black, before exploding into sparks. Ginny didn't flinch as the cup itself became visible again, its colour a dull yellow that was not very different from the flames enveloping it. Slowly, the rim and handles began to wilt, and as they watched, the cup folded inwards.
The tip of Neville's wand was glowing yellow, and he could feel the heat emanating from it despite his gloves. Ginny must have been in pain all this time, he thought, catching sight of her contorted face. She glanced up and mouthed, "Again", and he put all his energy into directing his magic through the wand one last time.
Ginny dropped the crumpling cup, just as white-hot pain shot up Neville's arm. It took all his willpower to hold his wand in place for several more seconds, and then he fainted.
When he opened his eyes, Ginny was huddled beside him, her arm cradled against her body. The cup lay a few feet away; it was whole again, but smaller. Had they failed?
He ripped off his ear-muffs and realised that Ginny was moaning in pain. The glove that she'd used to hold the cup was blackened, and red skin oozed through the material in several places. Neville seized his wand with his left hand, and murmured, "Aguamenti," hoping that the magic wouldn't be affected by his use of the wrong hand.
A jet of water poured onto Ginny's arm, and she looked around gratefully, her good arm reaching automatically for the bad one.
"Don't take that glove off," said Neville urgently as he pulled off her ear-muffs. "We need to get you to the hospital wing."
"The cup?" demanded Ginny weakly. She groaned as she caught sight of it. "Is that it?"
"It's all right," said Neville, more out of hope than anything else. "It's fine, he's gone." He reached for it gingerly; it felt light, but utterly normal. Taking his gloves off, he tried again, and then nodded. "I think it's just reconstituted itself - the way it was before, sort of."
Ginny hauled herself upright, still holding her left arm. "Come on," she said, "let's get it to Harry."
Too exhausted to use magic any longer, they struggled up to the castle by the light of the dawn, arguing quietly about the merits of contacting Harry or Madam Pomfrey.