Of plans and courage
Chapter 15:
The next month was both enjoyable and agonising for Harry.
He and Luna continued their nightly meetings, even when both were exhausted. They would talk about everything and nothing. While they did continue discussing the progress of their plans, they also made time to simply enjoy each other. At times it felt as if they were back in Camelot.
One thing that kept coming up in conversation were the two allies of the past who did not exactly get along with him at the moment. While Harry had begun to try to reach out to them, it was hard going and sometimes frustrating.
It would appear that his conversation with Snape had led to the potion's master having a long, introspective thought about himself, as he had slowly but surely changed significantly. Whereas before he would tell off any non-slytherin student at the drop of a hat, he was now more patient with the majority of students, including Harry himself. Now, instead of yelling at students who made mistakes... Well, he would still get angry, but at least he was actually explaining what they had done wrong instead of simply taking points and throwing out detentions. Harry thought that this was an improvement. Especially since Neville had finally stopped staking from head to toe every time he entered the dungeons.
The interactions between the professor and Harry were for the most part civil. He was at least succeeding in holding up his end of their bargain and not being disrespectful in class. But by no means were they anywhere close to considering each other allies. Thankfully, Luna told him that, once Snape gained his memories, things would become better between the two of them. Harry was still unsure, considering the reason why the older man had died in the first place, but Luna was persistent and he had to hope.
The other, harder problem was Malfoy.
In retrospect, Harry did not know how to feel about his old ally and friend. On one and, he had been one of the people who convinced him to usurp Arthur's throne in the first place. However, he also understood his reasoning, and knew that he had been thinking of what he thought was best for Britain, and had wanted what many had wanted. Also, in those hard, stressful months, he had been his greatest ally besides his brothers. He had been Mordred's greatest confidant, and had greatly assisted him in the deadly game of politics.
And while Harry considered his old self as a friend, he thought of Malfoy as a pratt.
Luna had told him that the Slytherin still needed to clean all the wrackspurts from his head. Harry, on the other hand, saw a great resemblance to how his old friend had described himself when he was younger, before he had witnessed his mother's death. While Harry wanted his old friend back, he also did not want him to suffer such a painful experience again.
Luna had suggested to wait until Malfoy regained his memories. However, Harry could not help but approach him, to get the ball rolling at least.
It was about a week into the new term. Harry was waiting in a broom cupboard just outside the Great Hall. He was hoping that the blond would not be accompanied but his usual cronies.
Here he came. And, yes, no Crab or Goyle in site.
Before Malfoy could enter the Great Hall, Harry had quickly grabbed him by the robes with one hand and had clapped his other hand over the blond's mouth.
"Wa..."
"Shhh," Harry whispered. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."
Harry dragged him into the broom cupboard. Once he had released Malfoy, the blond turned and glared at him.
"What are you playing at Potter?" He spat.
"I just wanted to talk." Harry replied calmly.
Malfoy sneered.
"What could you possibly want to talk to me about?"
Harry shrugged.
"I was just wondering, you seem to be in support of Voldemort."
Malfoy continued to sneer.
"Of course..."
"But why?"
Malfoy blinked.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Why do you support Voldemort?"
Malfoy actually began to splutter.
"Well, I..." He spluttered. "He's trying to cleanse this world of people who are unworthy of magic?" He said it as more of a question.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, and who decides who is and who isn't worthy of magic?"
Malfoy continued to splutter.
"I... The Dark Lord... My Father..."
"Voldemort? Your Father?" Harry asked calmly. "Last time I checked, they are only men. Voldemort is a maniac with a phobia of death and your Father is a coward who hides behind his Dark Lord and his money."
"You dare..." Malfoy spluttered.
"Yeah, I dare." Harry retorted. "I dare because I hate it when people presume to think they know best, when it's not really up to them. It does not matter how powerful Voldemort or your Father are, they are still mortal men who think they are better than everyone else. Use your brain Malfoy. No one but magic itself can chose who is and who isn't worthy."
"Well, I..." Malfoy continued to splutter.
Harry ignored him and opened the cupboard door. Before leaving, he turned to Malfoy.
"Think over what I have told you, please."
And with that, he left the blond spluttering in the broom cupboard. He had not done much, but hopefully it was a start in the right direction.
Neville continued to be a part of his, Ron and Hermione's group. While the first couple of days had been strange, all four had quickly adjusted. Harry was thankful, as it was good to finally see Neville being comfortable.
With the knew arrangements came a large build in confidence for Neville. Harry was pleased to see that the shy by was finally coming out of his shell. What were once rare and spontaneous spurts of courage were quickly becoming more frequent occurrences. He was now less likely to shrink away when another student threw insults at him, and more attentive in class. He was even greatly improving in lessons, especially since Harry discovered something that might have greatly contributed to the shier boy's difficulty in all things practical spell casting.
It was during transfiguration, and they were trying to turn lizards into foot-stools. Almost the entire class had gotten it by then, but Neville was clearly struggling.
"Hey, do you need some help?" He asked.
"Wha, no." Neville replied. "I just don't get it."
"Why, what's wrong?"
Neville sighed.
"I'm saying the spell right, right down to the pronunciation, and I've got the right wand movements. I just don't get what I'm doing wrong."
Harry frowned.
"Can I have a look at your wand?"
Neville shrugged and handed Harry the wand.
Harry examined it for a long time.
"It looks pretty old and warn." He observed.
Neville shrugged.
"It used to be my dad's."
Harry frowned.
"Why don't you have your dad's own wand?"
"Gran said that because it worked perfectly fine for my dad it should work fine for me." Neville replied.
Harry continued to frown and shook his head.
"That's not right." He argued. "I mean no offense to your Grandmother, but from what I've heard the wand needs to chose the wizard and not the other way around. You can't just pick up any random wand and expect it to work."
Neville frowned as Harry handed the wand back to him.
"What should I do?"
"Owl your Gran and tell her you need your own wand." Harry suggested.
Neville looked unsure, but agreed nonetheless.
That weekend Neville left for an entire day with his Grandmother and returned with a knew wand. He seemed happy.
"I thought that Gran was going to rip me a new one." He had said. "But she just told me that she was glad I had finally gotten some guts and had actually told her that I needed a new wand."
"That's great." Harry had said, smiling.
Neville shifted uncomfortably.
"She had asked why I was wearing a glove in Autumn, but I told her I had gotten a pretty nasty scratch during herbology and didn't want to risk it getting infected."
Harry had sighed. He knew that Neville did not like withholding information from anyone, especially not his Gran, but Harry had insisted. He did not want anyone outside of Hogwarts, or inside of Hogwarts come to think about it, interfering with his and Luna's plans. Things needed to remain at least slightly calm until the right time. From what Harry had heard of Neville's Grandmother, the old witch finding out that one of the teachers was forcing students to write with their own blood would cause quite the commotion, which would definitely be problematic for their plans.
Speaking of which, Umbridge continued to be a dark cloud in Harry's life. Every Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson was a constant battle against his desire to hurt the despicable woman in various ways, both magical and not. She would always talk to the class of teenagers as if they were misbehaving toddlers, and would not stand anyone even approaching an opinion that was different from the narrow minded idea of the Ministry.
By the end of his and Neville's week of detentions, both boys had the words "I must not tell lies" firmly etched into the backs of their hands. No matter what they did, nothing seemed to help them heal and it would appear that they would scar.
Harry did not want to take this to any of the teachers. It wasn't that he did not trust them, it was just... Well, he didn't trust them. The vast majority of the staff were on Dumbledore's side, and he wanted as little information to reach the old puppet-master as possible. And in any case, the past four years had proved the incompetence of the teachers. No, the only way to deal with Umbridge was to fight back themselves.
During their little study sessions, he, Neville, Ron and Hermione discussed organising a larger group solely focused on learning defensive magic and fighting back against Umbridge. Neville and Ron had been all for it. Hermione had been hesitant, as she still did not feel comfortable going against authority figures. However, she was game with going against the old pink toad, as not even Hermione respected this authority figure. She in fact had more respect for Trelawney than she did for Umbridge.
So far, the plans were just in the early stages. Harry was trying to hold back the actual forming of this group until at least Neville had regained his memories. He felt as if he needed more people in the complete know before doing something so drastic in the plan. Luna had agreed with this, and suggested that it may also be wise to wait until Malfoy had also gained his memories, as they needed people from all four houses for the group to be balanced.
It was now early October. Things had been going well. His and Luna's plans were going perfectly. Thanks to Neville's new wand, he had greatly improved in his spell casting. This of course had led to the teen's confidence growing. He had had quite a pleasant meeting with Luna the night before, and for once was enjoying a peaceful slumber. But alas, it would appear that he was to be denied any form of peace. For he was suddenly awoken by the sound of crashing coming from the bed next to him.
He turned over and opened his eyes blearily to see that Neville had fallen out of his bed. Instantly, Harry sat up.
"Neville, are you okay?" He asked.
The teen looked up at Harry, his eyes wild and his face pale. Suddenly, Neville was violently sick all over the floor.
"Neville..." Harry began, his voice filled with concern for his friend.
Neville ignored him. He quickly and shakily got to his feet and ran out of the dormitory.
Harry looked around and saw that, somehow, the other three boys were still asleep.
In nothing but his pajamas, he got out of bed and followed Neville down to the common room.
When he got down to the common room, Neville was no longer shaking. Instead, he was kneeling in front of the fire-place, staring into the dying embers of the fire from the night before.
"Neville?" He asked hesitantly. "Neville, are you okay?"
Suddenly, Neville looked up. Their eyes met. In that moment, Harry knew that he was not looking into the eyes of Neville Longbottom, a usually shy Gryfindor boy who was prone to sudden and spontaneous spurts of courage.
No, he recognised those eyes all too well. And it would appear that he knew Harry as well.
"Arthur." Harry breathed out.
"Mordred." Replied the newly remembered Arthur Pendragon, once King of Camelot and High King of Britain, and his Father.