Neville carefully careened around the corridors. Here and there, Neville noticed several familiar but vague faces crowding the cramped halls of Hogwarts. It was filled from floor to ceiling with refugees and the injured.
The house elves did their best to keep the castle spotless but not even their fortuitous industry of cleaners could keep up with the ever growing count of harmed individuals. It seemed as if everywhere he went, Neville simply ran into more and more people afflicted by the war. Yet, Neville kept pushing for he was on a different mission.
Even in this dire time of need, the third floor girl's lavatory was left unattended and abandoned, the sinks overflowing and the toilets clogged with dirt and excrement. Neville rounded the mirrors in the middle of the lavatory and founded the particular mirror he needed to access the Chamber of Secrets. He hissed the appropriate word and stepped back as the sink folded within itself and revealed the secret tunnel to the ancient chamber. Holding his nose, he jumped feet first down the winding chute and landed several levels below Hogwarts. He wrinkled his nose, the aching scent of decay wafting deliciously in the tunnel.
Neville knew it was a slight gamble, but in theory, his plan should be correct. If the basilisk tooth destroyed the diary in his second year, what's to say it couldn't destroy the locket as well? Frankly, it was a short miracle that Hermione didn't think of this idea first. She, of all people, should have kept the basilisk venom in the vast catalog of solutions her mind contained. Then again, she wasn't in the chamber when the young Riddle possessed Ginny and only heard through story through Neville and Ron.
Neville navigated the unfamiliar but, at the same time, recognizable tunnels until he reached the entrance to the Chamber. It was still open; untouched since his venture when he was only twelve. He could still see the decaying form of the large basilisk that tormented him while he tried to save the youngest Weasley.
He dragged his body through the dirt and water, sloshing his way to the dead fangs of the basilisk. Neville dropped to his knees, careful not to expose himself to the lethal basilisk venom. Pulling out his wand, he severed a spare tooth and grasped it carefully, wary of the effects of the deadly venom. He turned the fang over, making sure there was an appropriate amount of basilisk venom still within it. Indeed, the books were true and the venom remained even after the death of the large creature. It should be a simple enough to job to destroy the locket.
Stowing his wand and still kneeling in the dirty water, Neville pulled the locket from beneath his shirt with his left hand. He stared at the shiny object, enamored by it's powerful draw. He could practically feel the soul beating inside the locket, begging to be let loose. It was easy for Neville to mistake the pulsating in his hand for the locket since his mind was starting to retreat within itself, not willing to part with the locket. But Neville shook his head, breaking free from the slight entrapment as he pulled the chain over his head and placed the locket on a small piece of dry land.
As soon as he pulled the locket off his head, Neville could feel the whispers of Voldemort's invasion. It was like growing vines creeping through the slight crevices of his mind, worming its way in until it reached the root of his brain and revealed every little secret. The environment did nothing to help Neville, only furthering Voldemort's conquest to invade every part of Neville's mind. Neville shook as he held the basilisk fang, his body trembling as it reacted negatively to the onset of emotions.
"I can do it…" Neville whispered through gritted teeth, his body seizing as it fought the dueling minds.
He raised the fang in the air, holding it with two hands as he continued with the struggle. The locket was still on the dry jutting piece of land, sitting there mockingly as Neville fought to destroy it. The voices started as mere whispers but as Neville brought the fang closer and closer to the locket, it grew into a thunderous tornado, echoing through the chamber with vicious reverberation.
"Ahhhhhh!"
The fang crashed against the water as Neville purposely missed the Horcrux. He was breathing heavily and his shirt was soaked from the splashes of the unclean water. What he also thought was water on his face was actually tears spilling from the appropriate ducts in his eyes.
He exhaled shakily, wiping his face with the dry collar of his shirt as he let the fang drop into the water, hopeful that the venom wasn't so poisonous that the mere disbursement underwater would harm him. Neville immediately snatched the locket and put it around his neck. He relished the cold, numbing feeling that fell over him as soon as the chain made contact with his skin.
"I can destroy it," Neville whispered to himself as he looked at the leering face of the statue of Slytherin, "I swear I can…"
---------------------------------------
"How is he?" Harry asked.
"He's stable," Ginny sat heavily on a rotating chapter as she spared a glance to Malfoy, "The burns along his body aren't too severe. Luckily, the protective gear took the brunt of the damage for him. His face on the other hand…"
Ginny trailed off as she looked at Malfoy's previously unmarred face. A carefully crafted series of gauze was covering one side of his face, but underneath the protective layer was a mess of burnt and distorted skin. Ginny visibly winced as she remembered her attempts to treat the uncontrollable damage of the magical fire.
"He won't be able to get rid of it," Ginny said, "He's stuck with the burns for the rest of his life."
"How ironic," Hermione whispered from her spot next to Harry, "Malfoy would suffer the same fate as the one who killed his parents."
"Almost poetic, isn't it?" said a deep, scratchy voice from the doorway.
General Moody clunked into the Hospital Wing with his usual wobble, staring at Malfoy intently. He focused both his eyes on Malfoy's sleeping form but addressed the group behind him.
"Will the lad be alright?"
"He'll be physically fine. Just some superficial damage," Ginny answered.
"I lived fine with my scars, he'll be alright with his," Moody grunted.
"So you knew about this?" Ginny asked as she looked back and forth between Moody and Harry.
"You didn't think I was actually going to let Potter waltz into my camp with some freak show wearing a mask?" Moody scoffed, "I knew who he was from the get go."
"And you just allowed it?" Hermione curiously asked.
"I was there when we had to pick all of you up," Moody's voice adopted a rare somber tone, "The boy may have his problems, but there's no question whose side he's on."
Turning about so his regular eye was fixed on Harry, Moody spoke to him, "The folks won't be happy that they were left in the dark about Malfoy."
"I know," Harry simply answered, "I knew the risks when I took him on."
Harry stared straight at Moody, his confidence unwavering as he spoke of Malfoy. There was a hint of a challenge in his eyes, daring Moody to defy him otherwise. But Moody was in no mood to deal with Harry right now. He pulled the drapes around Malfoy's bed and limped his way to Harry to hand him a stack of folders.
"Attacks are picking up, especially in Muggle towns," Moody growled, "Voldemort's up to something."
"When is he not?" Harry asked rhetorically as he opened the folder and flipped through a couple pages.
"Anyways, as soon as you're good to go, Nott's unit is in London and they need to be relieved. You're up."
"Joy," Harry muttered sarcastically.
"Granger. Weasley," Moody tilted his head as he departed without a wave.
Hermione kept looking at Malfoy pitifully. His face was the only visible part of him through the half-closed drapes. He looked to be sleeping peacefully, but the mangled scars and wrinkled skin on his face told another story.
"Care to clue the rest of us in, Harry?" Ginny pointed her chin at Malfoy and crossed her arms, giving Harry a strict look.
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair as he took a seat next to Hermione, "We were just out on a usual raiding mission. Intel had some Mixers harassing a few Muggles along the Thames and it was in the beginning when things weren't so bad yet. I was flying down the river but got flagged over by someone."
"Who was it?" Hermione asked when Harry paused.
"Snape."
"Snape's alive?" Ginny asked in surprise.
"Full and well," Harry shrugged, "I don't even know how he found me, but Snape's always been creepy like that."
"How was he?" Hermione asked, always concerned for the well-being of others.
"He didn't look awful, but I can never really tell with him. Anyways - he lead me back to his safe house. It's inside a sewage pipe jutting out underneath a bridge. Quite a dank place, but Snape's always liked living in the dungeons."
Harry wrinkled his nose as he remembered the awful stench as Snape lead him through the dark labyrinth of tunnels that finally opened into a small living space. It consisted of only two rooms and what could be loosely described as a kitchen. Considering Snape's mastery of potions, it wasn't a complete surprise that the man could cook.
"Malfoy ran away after the Battle of Hogwarts. But the wanker forgot his injury was a bit severe. He didn't make it far, but luckily, Snape was around to save him."
"Snape's on our side then…" Hermione trailed off, not really forming her statement as a question but more like an off-hand comment.
"He always has been," Harry still remembered when Snape brought the deceased Narcissa Malfoy and the deformed Draco Malfoy to the now burned Godric Hollow.
"I wasn't convinced," Harry took a gulp of water as he retold the conversation, "I told Snape that Malfoy was a bit unhinged and I don't know if I could trust him to be stable on the team - especially after his father died. But the old git pointed out that I was doing just fine."
Harry absent-mindedly reached a hand to his neck to touch the pebble that hung on the chain. It was a movement that Hermione didn't miss but didn't comment on it. There was a glassy look in Harry's eyes as if he were recalling a time when things weren't so dire. Ginny coughed, interrupting him from his stroll down memory lane.
"Sorry to interrupt, but what then?"
"I convinced Malfoy to join our team, but he didn't want the stares of everyone else. He didn't want to be pitied by everyone because he lost his parents. I told him they wouldn't. After all, I was their captain, but he wasn't having any of it. He insisted on that comical mask to keep his cover."
"That comical mask probably saved his life or at the very least, the remains of his face," Ginny stood up and walked over to Malfoy's bedside to take a closer look at him.
"He seems relatively even keeled. Besides the mask of course…" Hermione trailed off as she realized she was describing someone who wore a mask at all times as 'even keeled.'
"There's…some things we did to help him focus the anger," Harry said.
"Like what?" Hermione pondered out loud.
Harry was guarded, his hesitancy visible as he slightly shuffled his feet and turned his body away from Hermione. Luckily, he was saved from explaining his actions by none other than Malfoy himself.
"Potter," Malfoy's first words were whispered harshly.
"It wouldn't kill you to be a bit nicer to me," Harry joked as he stood up and walked over to Malfoy's bedside.
"It almost killed me that you didn't tell me what was inside that damn thing," Malfoy said as he eyed Ginny with wariness. She was performing the usual diagnostics, her wand waving to and fro as she inspected the different levels of his magical ability and health.
"Hold still," Ginny ordered as her magical readings faltered from Malfoy's attempted movement.
"I've been lying in bed long enough," Malfoy complained as he struggled to peel off the bandages and wraps all over his body.
"Nope!" Ginny slapped his hands away from the wrappings, "If you take those off, your skin will never heal properly."
"What's on my face?" Malfoy reached a hand up to the heavy bandages on the right side of his face, but Ginny grabbed his wrist right before he reached it.
"You don't want to touch that," Ginny warned, her face sympathetic as Malfoy realized the consequences of his actions.
"I see," Malfoy said through pursed lips as he forcibly yanked his hand away from Ginny's tight grasp.
Ginny hovered awkwardly for a second, unsure what to do with her hands. She remembered that she was a trained mediwitch, however, and resumed her tests with the air and dignity of someone who had vast experience in the subject. Malfoy turned his anger over to Harry, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.
"I suppose everyone knows now?" he asked.
"Cat's out of the bag," Harry shrugged, "It was only a matter of time."
"Hmph," Malfoy grunted as he eyed Hermione as well, "You seem to be taking this rather well."
"Taking what well?" Hermione asked, honestly confused.
"Me," Draco motioned to the rest of the room, "All of this."
"Excuse me if I'm not falling over from shock," Hermione replied dryly, "Next time, I'll just leave you to die by fire."
"It'd be better than this place," Draco muttered darkly.
"If everyone's done hating the world, I do have some important news," Ginny cut in.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"Malfoy's free to leave."
Malfoy immediately sat up in bed upon hearing the excellent news. Unfortunately for him, Ginny placed a hand on his chest and immediately pushed him back into the bed. Malfoy bounced of the pillow, glaring at Ginny.
"Not so fast," Ginny said in a clipped tone, "Under no circumstances are you to remove these bandages for at least twenty-four hours. Doing so will literally peel your skin away. The bandages are latched onto your skin with a skin-replenishing liquid soaked between them. The second rip it off, it's taking your skin with it."
"Anything else?" Malfoy said with extreme sarcasm.
"That means everywhere on your body," Ginny looked pointedly at a section near Malfoy's midriff.
"I got it," Malfoy snarled, "No fapping."
"That's certainly one way to put it," Ginny smirked as she pulled off her gloves with a snap.
Malfoy dressed himself gingerly, much to Harry and Hermione's amusement. He hopped around to and fro, shunning any offered help as he struggled to put on the most basic of clothes. Finally shrugging his robes onto his shoulders, Malfoy turned his attention back to the object that landed him in this calamity.
"Was that a Horcrux then? The safe?" he asked.
"I'd assume so," Harry looked at Hermione for conformation.
Hermione shrugged helplessly, "If Bellatrix thought it was important enough to hang it around her neck, I could only assume that it was a Horcrux. We'd have to ask Neville."
"Where is he anyways?"
"I'm not entirely too sure," Hermione bit her lip as she stared off into the distance, "He said he was going to do a round through Hogwarts to see if he found anyone he knew."
Malfoy was busy examining himself in the mirror as the conversation grew stale. He gingerly touched the bandages on his face, staring at it with some sort of grim satisfaction.
"Weasley - can I still wear my mask?" Malfoy asked.
Ginny eyed him strangely, "I suppose you could."
Picking it up, she tossed the mask to Malfoy. "I tried to clean it the best I could, but the burn marks won't come off one side of the mask."
Indeed, one half of the mask was covered in scorch marks and scratches while the other half remained an untouched ivory color. Malfoy hovered the mask in front of his face, examining the look. The effect was eerie as the burnt side of the mask was reflected with the heavy bandages on his face.
"Why are you going to wear it?" Hermione asked, "Everyone knows who you are and Moody's certainly not going to kick you out."
"Don't want them to see my face when I execute them," Malfoy said, mostly to himself.
"Very funny," Hermione looked disgusted.
"Who said I was joking?" Malfoy smiled.
Hermione wrapped her arms around her midsection, not liking the particularly gleeful look on Malfoy's face. Turning to Harry, she was alarmed to find him smiling and shaking his head as well. As Malfoy left without another word, Hermione turned to Harry.
"What was so funny?" Hermione demanded, "There's nothing funny about executing people."
Harry sobered quickly but replied lightly, "It's not funny. I was laughing at Malfoy…mostly."
"I'm not sure I get this joke. It's not as if Malfoy actually executes people."
The look on Harry's face suddenly went from placid sobriety to guarded carefulness. Hermione didn't like the quick change of expression. Not one bit.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, the question hanging dangerously in the air.
Ginny slipped out quietly, recognizing the imminent argument. Though Hermione didn't know about Harry and Malfoy's rather…extreme tactics, Ginny was well aware of the on goings inside the Potter unit.
"Perhaps," Harry hesitated, "You should know some things."
---------------------------------
It only took about fifteen minutes for Harry to explain the reasoning behind his rather torrid actions. Hermione blocked out the last eight minutes or so from either pure shock or pure anger. She couldn't quite identify which quality was stronger in her. She honestly did try to listen as Harry tried to use a circle of words to quantify and explain why he allowed Malfoy to do what he did, but she simply wasn't buying what he was selling.
"So let me get this perfectly straight. You order Malfoy to kill the remaining Death Eaters when you have them as prisoners?"
"That's about right," Harry answered slowly.
"Right then," Hermione gathered her jacket and immediately started for the door.
"Wait," Harry snatched her wrist before she could escape.
"NO!" Hermione replied violently, yanking her hand out of his grasp, causing Harry to do a double take.
"It's not as black and white as you see it," Harry warned, anticipating her line of reasoning.
"Yes it is," she hissed, "They're unarmed prisoners! You can't just execute every single one of them."
"We can't exactly take them all on as prisoners," Harry smartly replied, "We don't nearly have enough resources for that."
"That's bullshit and you know it," Hermione cursed, "There are plenty of ways to keep them imprisoned with minimal manpower. If you'll excuse me, I need to leave and make sure I don't kill anyone on my way out."
"That's completely not fair!"
"You should be the last one to tell me about fair," Hermione snarled, walking away all the while.
Harry took three large strides and caught her wrist once again. Hermione snapped around, an insult ready but paused as she caught the fierce, intimidating look in his eyes.
"Let…go…of…me," Hermione said through gritted teeth, flashes of a different panic now jumping within her.
"No."
Harry dragged her forcibly to a bed side tucked away in a corner of the room. Hermione protested all the while, but Harry was incredibly insistent. He let go of her wrist, still not saying anything to her. She had a retort ready for his juvenile behavior, but stopped as soon as Harry pulled the drapes that surrounded the particular bed.
Hermione gasped, raising a hand to her mouth as she looked at the injured female lying on the bed. Cruel gashes were etched into her face. The word 'mudblood' was clearly scratched into her cheek through some form of irremovable magic. Hermione spotted tiny skin piercing all along her arms. The holes were now unoccupied but some of them were more than a couple of centimeters in diameter.
"She's one of the ones that fare better than most," Harry spat.
"I - I don't know…"
Harry turned to another bed and pulled back another set of drapes. Another unconscious person was laying. At first, Hermione thought that the person was very emaciated, but upon closer inspection, she realized that the person didn't have any arms. There were just tiny stubs where both of his arms should be. Instead of 'mudblood', the words 'blood' and 'traitor' were scratched into the left and right cheeks of his face.
"The Skele-Gro doesn't work for him. Some sort of dark curse prevents it from doing so," Harry explained.
"They can't…possibly - I mean," Hermione stuttered desperately.
"How many Death Eaters have ever been rehabilitated, Hermione? How many of them would quarter us in kind?"
"That doesn't mean we should…" Hermione trailed off as she continued to look back and forth between the two mangled bodies.
"No - it doesn't. But this is how we deal with it."
Hermione tried to collect herself, tearing her eyes away from the gruesome sight. Thankfully, Harry closed the drapes again, shielding them from her view. She looked at him in the eye, still strong in her resolve.
"There are horror stories to every war. The Goblin Rebellions, the Centaur Upheavel, World War Two…bad things happen to good people. That doesn't mean we have a free go at executing unarmed prisoners. We're better than that. We're not them," Hermione pleaded.
"You haven't seen them in action. You haven't seen them slice up people for the fun of it. Rape women, kill children just for a laugh. They're inhumane!"
"They're still people!"
"No they're not!" Harry slammed his fast against the wall, causing Hermione to flinch, "They weren't human when they took turns tearing that girl's skin with barbed wire and they weren't human when they cut off this man's limbs and hit him in the face with his own arms! They forfeited the right to be human when they took that mark."
Hermione opened and closed her mouth but no words came out. A part of her wanted to believe Harry; it really did. But her morals weren't letting her believe in Harry. She gulped visibly, maintaining eye contact with Harry as she tried to force her point across.
"I know you're angry. I know you've seen things that I can't possibly imagine. But I can't stand here and say I approve of this. I can't say that I agree with what would you do," Hermione shakily said.
"You don't have to approve," Harry said softly, leaning his head against hers so their eyes were inches away, "You just have to understand."
It took several moments before Hermione nodded, the movement causing both of their heads to wobble. Though she still felt strongly against Harry's course of action, she knew not the circumstances involved in participating in the war. For all their supposed importance, Hermione knew that she, Neville, and Ron were so far spared from the terrible atrocities of a day to day soldier.
"Don't talk about this anymore," Hermione requested, "I'm not shutting it out of my mind, but it's best that I don't hear what you and Malfoy do."
Harry nodded, understanding her reluctance to accept this particular side of him. It was a new development, one that Harry could not foresee. Yet it was a product of the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. Retribution must be paid; if not in blood then in death.
"You're hurt," Harry frowned as his eyes flickered downwards and spotted a series of bruises around her collarbone.
"From the fight?" Hermione frowned as she followed Harry's eyes. As she looked at the injury in question, she realized it was not from the fight that just occurred.
"It's nothing," Hermione hastily pulled her robes around her, not wanting Harry to see the damage caused by Neville's…outburst.
"Don't be prideful," Harry admonished, "Even minor injuries can take their toll if you don't…"
Harry trailed off as he pulled back the robe to find finger-shaped bruises adorning the bottom of her neck and upper part of her chest. He held his finger above one of the bruises and was mortified to see that it was indeed a human hand.
"What happened?" Harry whispered harshly, his voice tight and his countenance stormy.
"I…" Hermione couldn't speak as her voice caught in her throat.
Her eyes bellied a panic and a fear. A fear that Harry would fly off the handle much as he did against Voldemort. Hermione knew the breadth of his passion for her and the consequences should Harry find out what truly happened.
"Someone must have grabbed me when we were trying to Apparate," Hermione feebly lied.
Unfortunately for her, she was never the best poker player of the group and Harry read her face easily.
"Hermione. What happened?" Harry asked again, if not a bit impatiently.
Hermione could see the drapes shudder slightly, a reverberation from Harry's magical effects. She was left in a dilemma, a rock and a hard place. If she told Harry what happened, she sincerely feared for Neville's life. If she didn't tell Harry what happened, he would take that as a personal insult and definitely take Neville's life once he undoubtedly found out. She chose the former option, hoping she could have some damage control.
"Something happened…with Neville…"
The bed drapes stopped shaking and an unnerving stillness fell over the room. Hermione looked at Harry anxiously, worried at what he was going to do now that he knew. Harry abruptly turned about, striding quickly to the exit of the wing.
"Harry!" Hermione called out after him, needing to half-heartedly jog to keep up with his pace.
"Harry, please! You know it was Voldemort! He can still break through even with Neville's improvements in Occlumeny. Harry!" Hermione tugged on his arm but Harry speechlessly marched onwards with only one destination and one person in mind.
"Where's Neville?" Harry demanded as he found Seamus and the rest of the group.
"Think he said that he was making a round," Ron piped up, "Should be back soon though."
Harry's eyes swiveled to Ron, narrowing dangerously.
"Did you know about it?" Harry asked.
"About what?" said Ron in alarm.
Harry tried to subtly look at Hermione, but the rest of the unit caught the purposeful glance and looked at the girl in question. Hermione ducked her head, not willing to reveal the events of that night to a large group of people.
"I took care of it…" Ron gulped, not used to being on Harry's bad side.
Harry opened his mouth, no doubt with a shameful and intimidating retort in mind, but paused when he caught sight of something over their shoulders. They all turned once they realized that Harry was rendered speechless. Hermione's eyes widened as she found Neville walking tiredly to the assembled group. She almost called out to Neville as a warning but stopped herself because she ashamedly admitted that a part of her wanted to see what would happen.
Neville, on his behalf, looked the worse for wear as he dragged his body to Harry's unit. His head was ducked, his chin tucked to his chest in a dispirited posture as he blindly walked. His clothes were still mildly soaked from his escapade but a hastily cast drying charm cleaned the dirtier parts of his clothing. He didn't notice that Harry was suddenly in front of him until the other boy cleared his throat. Neville stopped once he saw Harry's combat boots and raised his eyes, wondering why Harry was in front of him.
Neville looked up and only saw the fiery anger in Harry's eyes for approximately two seconds. The next thing he saw were stars as Harry's fist connected with his temple. Neville groaned as he collapsed on the ground, his face pulsing from the sudden physical attack. In the background, Neville heard the shocked gasps and cries from Harry's unit. Neville rolled over and peeked an eye out to see one face and one face only.
Hermione was looking at him in shock but not in surprise. It didn't take very long for Neville to piece together the puzzle. Harry knew - he had to have known what happened between Neville and Hermione on that disastrous night. It was Hermione's expression that crushed Neville, not the sudden blow to his head. Her face was tight and her mouth was ajar but the look on her eyes was not one of sympathy or compassion.
It was a look of relief on her face.
Neville felt himself being dragged up by the collar of his shirt and he raised his already bruising eye to look at Harry's fierce green ones.
"You're free to fucking leave whenever you want," Harry spat in his face.
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