King's Coven

'The King is Dead; Long Live The King!'

It was an old saying, something Harry had grown up knowing. Of course, Harry had been raised in the Muggle world. And didn't it just boil Neville's blood that his poor, gentle god brother had been sent to live with people who hated him. Harry was as chaotic as they come, but most of that was his shell. People made him nervous, and he didn't much like crowds. Still, Harry was good at hiding himself amongst laughing faces, as far as anyone knew, he always had been. Even as very small children, he was told, Harry had rarely cried. And then, only terribly badly when someone else was crying. He was a very happy baby, and he could tell when people were unhappy. Sometimes he could even tell which party was simply being stubborn.

To leave someone so empathic from just about the moment he was born with people who despised his magic, despised him . . . It was pure cruelty.

So Neville had come up with a plan. He'd of course had some help, Luna was far too good at simply knowing when she was needed, and suggested the Room of Requirement for what he wanted. She told him what day and time they wouldn't be missed, told him 'And don't forget to have the wrackspurts removed my liege, that's very important you know.' and then she was gone. He simply chalked this bout of strangeness, as he did most things, to simply Luna being Luna. He ignored the ache in his chest that felt so familiar he could almost hear her voice again. Though somehow it sounded different, more mature. It was what he imagined her mother might have sounded like, magic keep her. 

Now though, it was Saturday afternoon, and his chance had finally come! He'd dragged Harry out of his bed where he had been moping and all the way up to the Room of Requirement, despite his exhaustion, despite his irritability with that foul Umbridge still in the castle. But they could do something about this, he knew they could, or at least Harry might be able to. So he led his tired friend through the fireplace he had asked the castle for. With a pinch of Floo powder, and in a puff of green flame, they were off.

~~~~~

Floo travel never got less uncomfortable. They were spat out in a small stone room where a goblin awaited them, gesturing them both through a small open door which led through to the main lobby of Gringotts Wizarding bank. A tug on his sleeve caught his attention, and he turned to see Harry practical curling in on himself as his wild, jewel toned eyes flickered about. He looked a bit like he was feral, but there was a deeper sort of awareness there than he was used to seeing Harry display. At least in public.

"Nev? What are we doing here?"

His inquiry was quiet and steady, just as much so as the boy himself. His eyes locked on a singular goblin who was walking with purpose towards the teenagers. There was something irritable, and perhaps a bit smug about him, though neither could truly tell how they knew so.

"Heir Potter, Heir Longbottom, finally responded to our missives, have you?"

The boys shared a perplexed look, before turning to the goblin. Harry had agreed to let Neville do the talking, so the shy boy turned and steeled his nerves, wishing his father were there to help him, and pulling on what steel he knew was in his spine, straightening considerably from his usual slouch. Careful to keep his teeth from showing, as it would be seen as aggression, he forced his shaking hands to still. 

"Good afternoon Master Goblin, I offer apology on behalf of myself and my brother, but neither of us have received any Gringotts missives. Heir Potter himself has only ever been to the bank twice."

The goblin snarled viciously, and Neville and Harry both reacted before either could stop himself, falling into defensive crouches on half remembered instincts that were reacting more and more often since starting the DA, before muttering sheepish apologies and standing straight again. The goblin, if nothing else, seemed thoughtful. 

" . . . The two of you will follow me."

It was not a question. They didn't insult him by pretending that it was. The goblin, Goldclaw, approved of them. For now.

~~~~~

Both Neville and Harry steeled their shoulders before the doors of the great hall. If all had gone to plan, no one would be any the wiser they'd been gone today. They weren't noticed overly much as they strode into the large room, and quickly took their seats at the Gryffindor, table. Though, one thing was slightly odd, if only to Dumbledore up at the head table. Instead of Harry taking his usual seat between Ron and Hermione, usually right in the center of things, everyone seemed to arrange around Neville. Perhaps the boy had received a scare today?

In truth, Harry had been oath-bound before he was even born, the line of Emrys would serve a worthy Pendragon again, and he took his place at Neville's left hand without a second of thought. Instinctively, it was his place, written deeply into his very magic. He would never need question his place nor hide his loyalty to his liege-lord. He was Neville's bondsman, it was very much in his interest to watch Neville's back.

Luna filled in to Harry's left, and on Neville's right fell Ron, and then Hermione. Across from them, Seamus, Dean and Ginny were in a lunchtime game of exploding snap.

"So what have you boys been up to this morning?"

Harry and Neville glanced at each other, and Neville shook his head, almost imperceptibly at him. Harry's eyes turned to Hermione, who had asked, and his eyes spoke of something deeply troubling and communicated something like 'not here, too many eyes and ears'. She would understand. Hermione always did.

Hermione deferred, as she always would, to her unofficial coven leader. Most small groups like theirs around the school were called covens, as that was traditionally what a group of casters was named. A bit on the nose, but Harry led theirs and that was typically that. Though, she could feel something beginning to change on that front. Another presence growing stronger, surer, fitter to take his place, at last. Free from the chains of the unworthy.

She blinked, unsure where the thought had come from. Harry simply grinned impishly at her. "We've been here and there. Took a trip down to the kitchens to see Dobby, I didn't want to be in the hall for breakfast. After that we went to the Room to let some steam off."

Ron laughed from between Neville and Hermione, delicate, piano player's fingers covering his mouth as he swallowed. "Good on ya' mate. You've been ready to explode for weeks. Feelin' a bit better?" He couldn't help but ask as he took a sip of his drink, baby blues flickering between Harry and Neville.

Neville nodded, flustering slightly under the red head's gaze. "Yeah . . . I think we're both feeling better." And small nod from Harry in the corner of his eye bid him keep talking, finish the thought. "And we'll be better if you lot join us next time." He lowered his voice, pitching it so low even they had to lean in to really hear him. "I mean, sure we have the D.A. but no harm in a little more group study."

Hermione, and Ginny across the table, grinned viciously. Ron, Neville and Seamus shuddered a little at the sight, but soon all was laughter and chatter once more, no one but Harry or Neville the wiser to the rings on their fingers, centuries old and pulsating for the first time in almost as long with magic. With life. Nor to the holsters on their wrists.

Looking at his brand new wand in his hand, courtesy of his godbrother who had simply refused to leave Diagon until they went to Ollivander's. And as he was an oayhsworn vassal, providing for his liege as he was sworn to, Neville could do nothing but be dragged along on this odd little side quest. He had been scolded by Master Ollivander for taking so long to show up, but was finally, finally, matched with a wand that was properly his. Neville smiled as he had the thought again, whispering to himself.

"The King is dead . . . Long Live the King."