Archive of Our Own

Hannah Abbott walks through the hallways behind her best friend Ernie Macmillan, her books clutched tightly to her chest. Sunlight streams pleasantly through the windows of the castle, but nothing about the atmosphere is pleasant enough to match the sunny day outside. Hannah, for one, is tired of walking to every class in a single file. She's tired of being terrified of putting one foot out of the meticulously straight line.

Hannah may hate to admit it, but she gets flustered easily. And the constricting cloud of terror that has settled over Hogwarts since the beginning of her seventh year has practically been designed to give her a coronary.

She hates having to look over her shoulder every second of every day, but this is war. She may still be relatively sheltered from the true horrors of war outside the castle, but she's not a kid anymore. None of the students within the castle are kids anymore, not even the young first-years.

Hogwarts has been taken over by evil.

Or, as they would like to call themselves, Amycus and Alecto Carrow. Hannah and her friends personally prefer to call them Mr Crucio and Ms Imperius, or collectively, the Unforgivables. Hannah's never been one for dark humour, but what can she say? War does that to people.

Merlin, the state of their world is appalling. You-Know-Who running the Ministry, Muggleborns being hunted, people being hurt, killed… and Dolores Umbridge in charge of the Muggleborn Registration Commission. Hannah grieves her mother's death every day, but she'd rather her mum have suffered and passed away last year than be subjected to the cruelty that is Dolores Umbridge's hearings in this new order of the world.

Hogwarts may be a school, a shield from the real world, but Hogwarts is no safety net. Not anymore. And Hannah has only so much protection from the Unforgivables' contempt, being a half-blood. Never in her life did she think she'd be able to claim ability to withstand nerve-torture spells without biting off her own tongue as an acquired skill.

She's never actively hated people before—people keep telling her that she's too nice, even for a Hufflepuff—but the Carrows… she loathes the Carrows. And every time she spies the awful, cruel, evil Alecto Carrow flog a twelve-year-old half-blood witch for daring to smile, Hannah grows to hate them both a little more.

What's horrible is that they've been given authority to do whatever they like. Teaching Dark Arts and Muggle Studies respectively, Amycus and Alecto Carrow should in no way have been in line for the position of Deputy Heads, but this was You-Know-Who's show now. You-Know-Who gets what he wants, and what he wants apparently is for two vile, sadistically inclined human carcasses to whip all of Britain's magical underage population into dead silence.

Under the delicately stern supervision of Headmaster Severus Snape.

Hannah doesn't hold much of a grudge over Snape like the others do. Yes, Snape is their Headmaster, but he holds no true power over the actions of the Carrows—he could have ordered them to cease their torture, but he cannot take away their positions in the school. Because it has been "bestowed" to them by You-Know-Who himself. Who Snape happens to be loyal to.

Okay, so maybe she does dislike Snape a little bit.

Surprisingly, though, he isn't bad. When Hannah rode the Hogwarts express back to her beloved school on the 1st of September for her final year and found Severus Snape seated broodingly in the headmaster's chair, she had resigned herself to infinite levels of emotional cruelty from him. Instead, Snape had been quite absent as a headmaster, far from the giant bat she'd imagined roaming the halls in the dead of night. All she's ever seen or heard of him has been during the times he silently steps in to assign the detentions of the half-bloods in the school to Hagrid or Slughorn or some of the teachers who didn't officially pose a threat to the Carrows and the Dark side.

In fact… it's almost as if Snape is protecting them.

Ernie had laughed at her when she hesitantly pointed it out a couple of months ago, and she hasn't dared to bring it up to the others again. But something within her gut tells her that she's not completely wrong.

She's always been more observant that others give her credit for. Usually, it's because she's more prone to being unbiased than someone else would be. And also because she loves to dissect people's characters and actions and come up with backstories for their behaviour. Susan tells her it's creepy. Ernie tells her it gives her more depth. Hannah just likes to pretend that people aren't always the way they are simply to be mean.

The Unforgivables, of course, are the exception.

But there's one thing she does object to about Snape, and that is his rule about moving from class to class like they're in the military. You go from point A to Point B. No detours. No deviations. No exceptions. Walk in a single file. Not a step out of line.

She feels like she's marching to her death. Which is not a wholly inaccurate thought to have—she is walking to their joke of a Muggle Studies class, after all.

Alecto Carrow, oh joy. Hannah gets to hear the stocky, expressionless she-devil rant on for the next hour about how Muggles are corrupting the world. She looks forward to it.

Hannah is yet to be convinced that Alecto Carrow is not the black-storm-cloud doppelganger version of Dolores Umbridge.

Not that Amycus Carrow is much more of a delight—his Dark Arts classes are scintillating. Really. Hannah loves hyperventilating over watching Gregory Goyle get awarded bonus points to Slytherin for successfully holding the Cruciatus Curse on a third-year in detention for thirty-eight seconds.

It's even more upsetting than seeing Crabbe and Goyle's names topping the mark sheets for the year's classes. Crabbe and Goyle. If Hermione Granger was still in school, she would have had a fit.

"Hannah, stop daydreaming," Ernie somehow manages to whisper to her without turning around. Startling, she pulls her glazed eyes away from the spot on the back of his school robes and subtly looks around, straightening as she registers the slight urgency in his tone. When she spots the agitation on Amycus Carrow's spotty face, she knows.

Mr Crucio looks frustrated. He tries to cover it up with cold glares at them as they pass by him, but Hannah can see his suspicion as he eyes each of them. His lumpy round features break into a disgusting leer when his eyes meet hers, and she has to suppress a shudder. Merlin, she hates the look of him.

As the line moves ahead and lets her pass him by, however, she has more freedom to stare properly at the latest graffitied work over the previously blank stretch of wall between the Charms class and the empty classroom ahead. Words are written in blood red, bold and hard to miss. It's not the first instance and it won't be the last, and Hannah will never not be amused at how neither the Carrows nor Filch have yet figured out how to get rid of the graffiti.

DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY, STILL RECRUITING.

She knows exactly who is behind it, too. But she's certainly not going to give them names. Let them figure it out for themselves—meanwhile, Hannah is going to continue to do her bit to help the cause. Under the radar, where she thrives best.

Ernie puts out his elbow behind him and nudges her in forewarning, but she already has the coin in her right hand. She sees the class of fifth-years approach them, marching to their next class under Professor McGonnagall's lead. Her target is in the back of the line, the Gryffindor bracketed on both ends by a Ravenclaw and a fellow Gryffindor. Neither of the two will tell on them.

Hannah nods subtly to the Gryffindor boy to get ready, and he nods back. When they pass by each other and are at optimal closeness, Hannah quietly tosses the Galleon in her hands to him. She's already prepped it beforehand, casting it under the Disillusionment Charm and various protection spells, so the movement of the coin through air is practically unnoticeable.

Hannah has had plenty of practice at feigning nonchalance, and the composure of the fifth-year Gryffindor almost makes her feel proud to be here. Working under the radar. Working to protect her fellow students.

The boy clutches it tightly in his hands, activating the magic she's placed on it, and through the Protean Charm she feels the Galleon in her own pocket tingle with slight warmth. Another one has just joined their ranks. A new recruit. The others will be pleased at how quietly she's pulled it off.

Dumbledore's Army does not require a Dumbledore to function, nor does it require a Harry Potter at its helm to work within the shadows. Hannah thinks that Neville, as their leader, is doing just fine.

And under Neville's lead, Hannah is proud to be working within the DA. She's doing something to help. To protect. To fight.

Dumbledore's Army, still recruiting. And this fight they're fighting is the biggest one of their lives. This fight is for themselves.

Hannah may be a too-nice Hufflepuff, but if anyone else takes that to believe she's incapable of joining the resistance, then that's on them.

She doesn't like to be underestimated.

Lavender isn't best pleased with the deal she's been cut.

"You'll be fine here," Neville tells her for the fourth time, squeezing her shoulder supportively. His firm ignorance of her glare only riles her up further.

"Of course I'm fine here," she snaps. "I'm safe here. But it was my turn to go with you. Why can't Seamus stay here in my place?"

"And wait for Dean to get here safely while I twiddle my thumbs? You're mad," Seamus says incredulously. "I'm going, Lav. Deal with it."

Lavender's nose flares out and she uncrosses her arms to argue with him, but Neville, like the peacekeeping leader he is, puts himself between her and Seamus Finnigan and raises a hand at each of them placatingly.

"Lav, I know you want to go—"

"It's my turn," she interrupts shortly, recrossing her arms. "I'm meant to go."

"Yes, I know that, but it's dangerous for you to come with me right now. This isn't like the nights we throw paint over the walls and write recruitment messages and call it a night. This mission is serious. Really serious."

"And I'm too fickle to take on something serious? Is that it? Merlin, Nev, can't you see I've changed? I know I wasn't the best person before this year, but have I not proved now that I can be dependable? I'm trying, I really am."

"I know you are," Neville soothes, "and that's why we can't afford for you to risk your position. Seamus and I are both firmly in hiding, but you're still out there. You need to continue working from the outside—recruiting, saving the ones in detention, keeping our cover. Lav, don't think for one minute that I still don't trust you. It's why I need you here; I need you to stay safe here so that if anything happens to me or Seamus, I know that you're there to take over the DA for me."

Lavender blinks. "What?"

"You think I don't trust you? I do. I do trust you."

"I'd stay back here and keep myself safe like Neville's making you do if I thought I could help lead the DA successfully," Seamus steps closer and interjects, his voice softer than it usually is. "I'd want to go to Dean myself, of course, but… this is war. Sacrifices would need to be made. But I'm not good for the position, Lav. I'm hot-headed; I make reckless decisions. Also, I tend to get things blown up. I'd send us all running into a fire I accidentally created. I'm not patient or objective like Nev here—but Lav, you are. You're the obvious next choice."

Lavender stares. "You trust me enough for that?"

"Well, you can still be annoying when you're acting like your old self," Seamus jokes, and Lavender immediately purses her lips into a frown, "but you're good people, Lav. And yes, we trust you to lead us. Everyone does. You've proven yourself to all of us this year."

Lavender looks around at the meagre handful of people scattered around the room, pretending they aren't listening in. Each one she looks at gives her either a smile or a discreet thumbs up. Parvati, her best friend, gives her both. Parvati looks proud.

When she turns back, feeling just the slightest bit overwhelmed, Neville's face is serious. Casting a Tempus charm, he looks at the time and says, "We have to leave soon. Can't be late. Lav, take care of the RoR for us. You should be fine here. We'll be back as soon as we can."

"Right," Lavender nods quickly, going into business mode. "I'll hold down the fort till you get back. You'll bring Luna and Dean back with you?"

"As soon as we can," Neville assures. Seamus gives her a smile filled with anticipation, a rare look on him since way back in October when they first began the movement. Lavender smiles back. She knows how much getting his best friend back means to Seamus. Especially since Dean Thomas is so much more to him than just a best friend.

And while Luna Lovegood really is just a best friend to Neville, Lavender also knows how close the two of them are. Neville is no less excited to be getting Luna back.

Even Lavender misses Luna. She had treated the Ravenclaw girl horribly in their previous years at Hogwarts, but fighting together for a common cause had taught Lavender that there was much more to Luna than what meets the eye. Luna is smart and observant, particularly so for a girl who looks so absolutely dotty. She's also genuinely nice, nicer and more forgiving than most people will ever be. Lavender actually likes Luna now.

And she wants them both back at Hogwarts.

"Go," she urges them, pushing Neville to the door. "Go get them back."

"We will," Seamus answers for Neville. He's practically vibrating with excitement. "C'mon, Nev, let's go. Got lots to do."

"Yes. Yes, we should."

With a swift swishing sound, Neville produces his wand from the depths of his robe and uses it to cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself. With a nod to him, Seamus casts his own charm over his head, and Lavender carefully scrutinises them as they seemingly vanish from top to down to make sure that the charm is properly cast and no part of them can be seen.

"Move," she tells them, and quick, twin rippling effects through the empty air shows her the position of each of their right arms. "Slower," she instructs, and the ripples this time are gentle enough to go unnoticed. No one will know.

"You're good to go," she finally says, and the air before her is silent and non-moving. She feels a squeeze to her right arm and the soft brush of cloth past her, followed a few seconds later by a gentle pull to one of her honey-blonde curls that just has to be Seamus. Their movements are unnoticeable but for the silent opening and closing of the door set in the back of the Room of Requirement—one she knows will take them through endless passages and rough-hewn stone staircases down to a tiny alcove in the dungeons of Hogwarts, quite near the kitchens. The boys know their way from there.

They'll be safe. They have to be.

When she turns back around to face the room at large, she's met with tense silence.

"Well!" she says with forced cheer and a clap of her hands, summoning a deck of cards and plopping to the floor, "let's play a game, shall we?"

She looks around at everybody as she makes herself comfortable, pulling up her legs to sit cross legged on the magically cushioned stone, and Parvati soon joins her on the floor.

"Sit down already," Parvati snaps to everyone, prompting her twin sister Padma to roll her eyes and copy them. Michael Corner is next—he opts to sit in a cushioned chair so as to not aggravate the still-healing lashes on his back that forced him to hide full-time in the Room of Requirement with Neville and Seamus. All for releasing a first-year boy being punished in detention from his shackles. Lavender is still spitting mad at the Carrows for what they did to Michael.

Finally, Nigel Wolpert sits down beside Lavender, giving her a tremulous smile. Lavender in turn tries to look as comforting as possible as she deals out the cards. Nigel is still young, but he is so brave. Lavender has grown quite fond of her fellow Gryffindor-in-arms.

It's a quiet Muggle game. None of them have much of their old penchant towards Exploding Snap, the sudden blasts being far too threatening for them to engage in as a method of relaxation. Lavender is finally seeing what the Muggles see in playing what used to be, for them, the "boring" version of cards. Not every game has to have bangs and flashes for witches and wizards like them to enjoy it.

It's a little bit awkward, playing a game on the floor of what is technically Neville, Seamus and Michael's new dorm room. The three beds are on the opposite wall in a more secluded corner of the room, and the mismatch of two beds clearly created based on the layout from the Gryffindor dorms and the single blue-sheeted bed to the side just as clearly copied from the Ravenclaw dorms is a little jarring. It shouldn't be the least bit cosy, but it actually kind of is. Lavender feels very much at home here.

Maybe it's the security this room provides from everything going on in their lives. They are unsafe everywhere else in the castle, but here, inside the Room of Requirement, no one can touch them. This room is inaccessible to anyone but members of the DA.

It's as close to protection as it gets.

Midway through their third game, Lavender's DA galleon warms in her pocket. It's a steady warmth, not the tingle that signifies a new recruit gaining possession of one of their coins. A message, then.

It's from Hannah. Lavender sees the H.A. at the top that tells her who it's from, and around the edges of the coin in tiny letters is the message, 1 injured to RoR. After a second of pause, the words clear and new words appear. ETA 3 mins. Dungeon passage.

"Someone's injured," she stands up quickly and says, dropping her now-forgotten cards to the floor. "Hannah's bringing them over, she'll get here in three minutes."

Michael's dark eyes grow wide with anxiety. "They're stunned unconscious, right? We can't have someone who's not one of us find out how to get in here."

"Relax, Michael, it's Hannah. She knows what she's doing," Lavender says softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. Under her palm, she feels a single tremor wrack through his body. It's been days since the Carrows tortured him with the Cruciatus Curse, but the after-effects haven't completely left him yet, nor has the residual fear.

Parvati comes behind her to stand at her side, and with a nod to her best friend to follow, Lavender heads to the door. She doesn't have to turn to know that Parvati is behind her. With a flick of her wrist, the cards strewn on the floor pack themselves into a neat deck and fly to the nearest open drawer. When the deck is in, the drawer shuts on itself.

Padma and Nigel automatically head for the beds in the farthest corner of the room, Padma stopping to help Michael up, and the three of them take a bed each to hide in. Nigel closes the curtains of Michael's bed for him.

Lavender turns to make sure that all three of them are hidden behind the curtains of their respective beds, and then casts the strongest shielding and muffling spells she knows to keep the entire section of the room hidden. Parvati adds charms of her own for extra protection.

Now all they have to do is wait.

Hannah doesn't make them wait for long. In less than a minute, the same door Neville and Seamus had gone through an hour ago opens again, and Hannah Abbott steps through, levitating a small body before her. Lavender's breath catches. The first glimpse is always the hardest; it requires her to remind herself that the body being levitated is not a body. They're still alive. They always are—even though with Michael it had been a very close call.

"It's a second-year, Gryffindor, found him near the Slytherin common room entrance," Hannah rattles off, not even bothering to look around as she sets the young boy down on the floor in front of them. Parvati immediately goes to shut the door behind her. "Under Imperius, made to hit himself in the head on the stone repeatedly. At least three times. Definite concussion, possible head trauma. Right arm may be sprained, possibly dislocated."

"… Shit." Lavender throws herself to the floor to start casting diagnostic spells on the boy, uncaring of the reverberations rattling the bones of her knees. She can feel Parvati's magic zipping over her shoulder to envelope the boy, and she knows that her best friend is casting everything she can think of to make him more comfortable. Extra cushioning charms, warming spells, a bundle of soft-looking conjured fabric to go under his head.

"I'll go nab some potions from the Hospital Wing," Parvati quickly offers while Lavender and Hannah tend to the injured boy. "What do you need?"

Hannah rapidly runs through everything they need, pain potions and headache relievers and one for nausea. Parvati cross-checks the potion bottles they do have in the RoR's storage cupboard, and makes a shorter list of the ones she needs to get.

Lavender simply looks up quickly to flash Parvati a smile in thanks, grateful for how easily her best friend keeps her cool in stressful situations. Parvati nods back with the ghost of a smile, and vanishes through the passage in the very next second.

"What happened?" Lavender finally asks Hannah when they've casted as many Episkeys and healing spells as they can to stabilise him.

"I don't know," Hannah replies, glancing up through the wispy strands of light brown hair messily falling over her forehead. With her left hand, she hastily swipes it back and guides it behind her left ear. Her brown eyes look tired. "Nev called for me. When I got there, I found Crabbe holding an Imperio over him and Goyle grinning like the crazy he is. One of those Carrow twins was there too."

Lavender gasps. "Merlin."

Hannah shoots her wry look and swipes at her hair again. "I transfigured my overgown robes green and silver and pretended to be a Slytherin, and I think Crabbe and Goyle bought it. Distracted them and got them to leave me alone with the kid. I'm not convinced the Carrow girl didn't see my face, though. It was dark down there, but I couldn't do much else to hide my face."

"Shit, Hannah. You may be compromised," Lavender exclaims softly, her brows automatically furrowing.

"Maybe so," Hannah admits. "If I am, I may have to hole up in here with the boys." She looks worried. Lavender cannot blame her for being so.

"Godric, I hope the boys are alright," Lavender murmurs as she looks back down at the boy lying on the floor, checking that his breathing is even. "They're going to guilt themselves up to the gills for not saving this kid themselves if he turns out to not be fine."

"I know," Hannah murmurs back. "But they were right in not engaging in confrontation, the mission is more important. If they got caught, especially with the others on Hogwarts grounds right now… Merlin, I wouldn't want to know the consequences. The Carrows are already looking to get Nev dead, as it is."

Lavender simply hums in response. There isn't really much to say. Except, "Why the hell was this kid around the dungeons at this hour?"

"Beats me," Hannah replies, rolling her eyes. "Must have wanted to try out some rebellion thing."

"By himself?"

"Well, he is a Gryffindor," Hannah mutters, but at Lavender's glare, she softens and looks apologetic. "Sorry, Lav, you know what I meant."

Letting out a deep breath, Lavender nods and smiles wryly. "I know, I know. We can still heal his arm some more, let's just use numbing charms and fix as much as we can till Parv comes back with the other potions."

"Right."

Hannah turns back to the boy, and Lavender uses her wand to release her protections and the muffling spells over the bed area. "You can come out now," Lavender calls when she can see the red and blue curtains around the beds once again. "This kid isn't going to wake up anytime soon."

Nigel is the first one to peek out.

"What happened?" he asks, and Lavender gestures to him to come over. He makes his way curiously to see who it is, and his eyes widen when he gets close enough to look at the boy's face. "Oh, I know him! He's hurt? What happened? Is he going to be okay? Do you know?"

Lavender pulls him to her side and puts an arm around him to calm him down. "He'll be A-okay in a day or two," she says to Nigel cheerfully, smiling when she sees the anxiety in his fair blue eyes die down a little. "Seems like your friend has a hard head."

"Tough as a walnut," Hannah adds just as brightly. "He's going to be just fine."

"Where's my sister gone?" Padma's deep voice comes behind them, and Lavender looks up.

"Parv's gone to get some more potions for the kid," she replies, "She'll be back soon."

Hannah looks at Lavender and nods, and they go back to checking the boy's vitals. Just in case. He's so young, and he looks so ashen, and while Lavender is optimistic about his recovery, he doesn't look so good at the moment.

This is them in their element, though. Hannah and Lavender, they've been the DA's healers since the resistance first picked up. And even when things have been touch and go, they've always been able to patch people up. Even Michael.

Lavender's always been better with having something to do. And this… this, she can do.

She'll do the best she can.

"Come on."

Seamus follows Neville's lead across the hallway, trying to make himself as small as possible to stay in the shadows. Neither of them have learned the secrets behind Harry Potter's notoriety for sneaking around the castle, and so they cannot afford to take risks. Seamus knows that Neville would be casting Homenum Revelio around every corner if the glowing balls of white light wouldn't potentially give them away.

Even in the stillness of the night, it's never been more obvious that this Hogwarts isn't the Hogwarts they've grown up in.

Fucking Carrows and their fucking reign of misery.

Seamus hates it. Hates it. He hates seeing the life sucked out of everybody he knows and cares about, he hates being stuck adrift in a time vortex that simply spins in place, he hates being made to be an outlaw, he hates not knowing what the future holds, he hates not knowing who's next to die outside these castle walls and who's next to be tortured within them.

But there's one good, bright spot he's been focusing on for the past week, and that's Dean. Dean is coming back. Dean and Luna are coming back to Hogwarts tonight.

For the longest time, Seamus wondered if Dean didn't make it. After the Snatchers, and Lee Jordan's announcement of Dean's missing status on Potterwatch, Seamus was tuned into the radio every day, just in case they made a surprise broadcast with more news. At first Neville listened in with him in their dorm, and then when Neville went into hiding, it was just Seamus sitting alone in a dorm room meant for five, staring longingly at the empty space beside his bed that used to be Dean's bed. And when Seamus got into enough trouble that he'd had to hide away with Neville in the RoR, they were back to listening to the broadcast together whenever they could.

And every day, there was not one word about Dean. Nothing. Lee also made no mention of Luna's disappearance since the Christmas holidays, and neither did the Weasley twins when they guest-hosted the radio show. Nothing.

And it drove Seamus mad.

But it happened. Just two weeks ago, Luna used her old DA galleon to get a message out to them, and while Dean had lost his, he used Luna's coin frequently to also communicate to them. Short, quick messages. None enough to satiate Seamus' thrumming need to know that both of them were alive and safe. That Dean was alive and safe.

Five days ago though, Luna sent them the message that has Neville and Seamus where they are right now, stealing quietly through the drafty corridors of the dungeons.

Can we come back?

Five days of communication and planning, but here they are. And this mission is going to go off without a hitch. It has to. Dean and Luna's safety depends on it. The Weasleys' safety depends on it. Their safety depends on it.

Seamus is ready to see this through.

They round the next corner, moving slowly, and stop. There's a young boy stealing quietly across the other end of the hallway—he cannot be older than a third-year. Ahead of Seamus, Neville's breath hitches.

Quicker than they can blink, a bare stretch of the stone wall opposite them—not far from where they are standing frozen—shifts behind and to the side and reveals the silhouettes of three Slytherins standing in the dungeon passage. They step out one by one, each head twisting left and right to search their surroundings, and when they pass the greenish lamp right next to their common room entrance, Seamus can easily identify the first two hulking forms as Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe. The tall, slight figure behind them, he thinks, is one of the Carrow twins. Even if he wasn't sure, the family resemblance is stark—the girl has the same squat nose as Amycus does. It's a sure tell.

Seamus will never get used to the fear of standing invisible in an open corridor among threats, feeling like one look in his direction will expose him completely. He stands stock still, and even holds his breath in a further attempt to keep his presence absolutely hidden. Beside him, Neville is just as unmoving.

Goyle's—or maybe Crabbe's—gleeful laughter rings right across the corridor when they spot the young boy quietly studying a tapestry on the other end. Even from his distance, Seamus can tell that the boy flinches.

Quickly turning around, the boy's body jerks in recognition when he sees the Slytherins and he scrabbles behind, trying to move away. It's an effort in futility, because Crabbe's wand is up and casting a spell before he can take the first backwards step.

"Imperio!"

Seamus' chest stutters, and he almost breathes out. Neville's hand reaches for his quickly, the contained ripple in the air nearly invisible in their shadowed hiding spot. He gives Seamus' hand two squeezes. Stay.

The curse produces no light, but the resulting jerk of the boy's body tells Seamus that the casting was effective.

"Look, Flora," Goyle mumbles gleefully. "Found a little one already."

"I'm Hestia," a crisp, sullen female voice corrects.

"Hestia," Goyle grunts, repeating her.

"What should we make him do?" Crabbe grunts next, jerking his fat head to where his wand is pointed. Goyle literally has to follow the wand's trajectory to the boy with his beady eyes.

"Bash his head?" Goyle suggests meanly when his eyes set on the boy.

"Bash his head," Crabbe agrees, nodding like a puppet on strings. "Bash your head!" he calls to the quaking boy as the end of his wand pulses with command, and the kid immediately goes still. Walking like a robot, he silently goes to the wall and rests his small hands on the rough stone. Seamus flinches hard when the boy bangs his head against it, even though he was expecting the action.

Neville's rhythm falters, but he still squeezes Seamus' hand twice. Stay.

Seamus frantically looks around for something, anything nearby that they can use as a distraction without giving their presence away, but he sees what Neville himself knows. There's nothing around besides two tapestries, three landscape paintings and six hanging lamps throughout the corridor. There's nothing they can do without revealing their position.

"Again!" Goyle calls gleefully, and Crabbe repeats his silent command to the Imperiused boy. The boy braces himself and bangs his head against the stone again, even harder than before. Crabbe and Goyle shuffle towards the boy quickly to observe him better, and Hestia crosses her arms and follows along, dragging her feet like she really doesn't want to be here.

Seamus feels Neville's hand leave him. Looking down, Seamus sees a slight ripple in the air in the general vicinity of Neville's right pocket. He lets out a breath, knowing what Neville is doing.

"Flora—"

"It's Hestia," Seamus hears her snap as they move farther away from him and Neville.

"Hestia," the brute continues, "now what do you want to do?"

Hestia's voice gets impossibly sharper. "What I want is to go back to my warm bed and sleep. It's nighttime. Nighttime is for sleep. Why did you two drag me out here again?"

"To catch the Gryffindors," the goon answers her. Seamus can barely hear them now, they're quite far away.

Meanwhile, Neville has already pulled the DA galleon out of his pocket and got it tucked into his robe—Seamus had seen the gold coin floating in the air for a mere three seconds before Neville hid it again—and his hand is now back in Seamus' hand. Seamus knows that he's sent an emergency message to one of the DA members about the situation. One of the Hufflepuffs, likely, since they're closest.

Two squeezes. Stay.

The Slytherins are now clustered around the poor boy, barely letting Seamus see what's going on. Crabbe and Goyle's huge forms are blocking the view. They seem to be taunting the boy now, and one of the goons pulls the boy's left arm behind him painfully, but it doesn't look like they're giving him any more commands. For now, anyway.

The opportunity for escape seems unlikely. The Slytherins may be on the opposite end of the hallway, but Hestia Carrow is facing in their direction, and her apparent boredom is making her eyes wander to all the art decorating the walls. Seamus is starting to despair of their predicament.

Glancing down at the floor, he sees a lizard scuttle by, mere inches away from his invisible shoes. The lizard's body glows an eerie grey-green, and Seamus tries hard not to flinch.

Finally, after what seems like forever, Crabbe and Goyle tire of getting no reactions from the Imperiused boy and they command him to bash his head again. Seamus winces, but this is their opening. Hestia looks interested enough to observe the proceedings once again.

Neville's hand squeezes him again. A single one this time. Go.

Seamus doesn't need to be told that they need to move slowly. Too quick, and the ripples in the air will be too obvious. It's torture to walk backwards so carefully when they are faced with such an appalling scene, and the Gryffindor in Seamus wants to charge ahead and defend the kid, break the Imperius and give the Slytherins hell—but he resists the urge. He tamps it down, because they have a greater mission tonight, and he cannot afford to jeopardise anything. Neville has called for the Hufflepuffs; one of them will take care of it.

Finally, they're back around the corner they had come from, and Seamus doesn't have to look at the boy bracing himself against the wall anymore. Somehow, it makes him feel worse.

Neville's hand is still tightly clutched in his as they take the longer route out of the dungeons in silence, crouching and moving in sync, only leaving his hand to send another message through the DA galleon—likely to report on the injuries they've witnessed the boy sustain. They're both quiet for a while.

It takes no more than ten minutes till they're in front of the winding stone staircase that takes them up from the dungeons to the Entrance Hall. Seamus takes a deep breath.

"I told Hannah," Neville offers when they're climbing the stairs. "She'll take care of him."

"I feel like shit," is all Seamus says.

"So do I."

They're almost at the top when Seamus adds, "It couldn't be helped, Nev. You made the right call."

Seamus can't see him, but even invisible, he knows that Neville is looking right ahead. "Tell that to my conscience."

"I can't," Seamus replies wryly. "If my conscience told yours that, it'd be lying."

Neville huffs a single, deprecating laugh and goes silent again.

Finally, they're at the top. Seamus pulls open the door just a crack, but he sees no one in the Hall, and so they pull the door wider and slip through the opening one by one. Neville is the one to close the ornate door.

And then they're tiptoeing through the Entrance Hall, crossing the short twenty feet to the main doors of the castle. Seamus pauses, his hand on the door.

"For the mission?"

"For the mission," Neville's hand comes to rest on his shoulder. "We're going to be fine."

Seamus believes him. He has to.

The two redheads arrive with a whirl of air and a soft pop, and it takes a second of adjustment before they can tell where they are.

"Are we on the Quidditch pitch? Kreacher, you arse!"

"George, shush, don't talk to Kreacher that way."

"But Fred, we're right out in the open!"

"Merlin, if I couldn't see that you looked exactly like me I'd worry that I brought Bill instead of you."

"Yes, Fred, I secretly Polyjuiced myself into George and forced another vial of Polyjuice down his throat so that he'd look like me. I'm not George, I'm your worst nightmare. Fear me."

Fred quirks a single red eyebrow at his twin brother, wondering not for the first time how people could ever mistake them for each other. George is one snarky arsehole; Fred is not half as dry as he can be.

George raises an eyebrow of his own, and the look would be just as sarcastic as his attitude if not for his nose, which is twitching to fight off the grass tickling at it.

Fred's snickers are cut off, however, when he moves his head slightly and a short blade of grass gets stuck up his own nose. Of course, then it's George's turn to muffle laughter, and the red-black spell beam from his wand flickers once at his loss of concentration.

"Focus," Fred hisses to his brother in reprimand, and keeps his gaze firmly to his own yellow-tinged spell to make sure his casting doesn't undermine him like the grass did. As if sensing that he is thinking about it, the same blade of grass finds its way up his other nostril.

Their mother always tells them that their penchant for never being serious would come back to bite them someday, but she hasn't seen how they work. Rather, she's seen them work, but she's never truly understood how they function.

Molly Weasley is a fantastic mother, Fred knows. And he and George are lucky to have her—they all are—but they are not blind to how she can be sometimes. They love her, but a good chunk of her philosophy happens to be 'it's her way or the highway', and their way is not her way at all.

Take what they're doing right now, for example. If Mum knew that they were infiltrating Hogwarts to safely deliver a prominent captive and a Muggleborn to be hidden in enemy territory, she would have a fit. And she would see their banter as nothing more than tomfoolery, a distraction from where their focus should truly lie. Stealth.

But Fred and George's way of doing things makes them no less efficient at what they do. For one, they had dropped to the ground and laid among the grass merely a split second after they realised that they were out in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, barely acknowledging Kreacher's subsequent Disapparation.

And two, they've been casting silent shielding and invisibility spells in a medium-sized forcefield around where they are sprawled even as they continue their banter. When Kreacher Apparates to their location with the others, their brother, Bill, and their charges, Dean Thomas and Luna Lovegood, will arrive to a secure surround-shield—no one will be able to detect their magical signatures at all, even if they sought out their specific signatures.

They've put more thought into this plan that Mum would have presumed. Not that she will ever know, of course. If Fred and George have their way, no one ever will.

They've already sworn Bill to silence. If anyone knew that the infamous Weasley twins were more than pranksters and layabouts? If they knew that Fred and George hid brains under their thatch of ginger-red hair? That they could be cautious?

Merlin, Fred shudders to think of the consequences. People would expect things from them. People would stop underestimating them. It's stuff taken from Fred's worst nightmares.

He values their element of surprise very fucking much, thanks.

The sound of Kreacher's returning pop is loud in Fred's ears, and he ties off his final spell and checks quickly to make sure George is also done with his share of the spellwork before he turns to look at the new arrivals.

"Just in time, I see," Bill comments in his crisp, dulcet tones. "Good timing, kiddos." A big hand clamps down on Fred's shoulder when he scrambles upright. Fred frowns back at him grumpily at the use of the term 'kiddo', but doesn't waste time refuting it. He knows Bill is not going to budge.

A tiny part of himself pauses to wonder if it gets tiring, being the oldest and so bloody smug about it. He locks that part of himself away for the night, because mission, focus, but also takes his sweet time doing it because he's himself and well, it's a legitimate question. How much energy does it take to sustain all that smugness? Fred genuinely wants to know.

"Is the shield up?" Thomas whispers, crouching down a little and looking around, and Lovegood interjects with a response before either Fred or George can confirm it for him.

"I sense the Blimdingers buzzing a little ways away," she murmurs, sounding distracted. "They're tapping at the walls, trying to come in. Fred and George are keeping them out. Good job, Fred and George." She hums, smiling at nothing. Fred notices that her hand is tightly clutching at Kreacher's hand, belying her otherwise airy appearance. He wonders if Harry has told her the full story of Sirius' death while she was staying with them all at Bill's new place by the sea, and Kreacher's involvement in the conspiracy.

Bill has to give Lovegood a long blank look before he turns to Fred and George, and George silently mouths "shields are up" with a subtle nod to appease him. Thomas, however, Fred notices, understands Lovegood perfectly.

"Right, then," Bill nods to himself decisively. "Let's move. Fred, George, you lead. Luna and Dean next. I'll hold the rear."

"What about the elf?" Thomas asks speculatively.

"Yes, we should take care of Kreacher first," Lovegood agrees in her light voice. Her grip is still tight on Kreacher's hand. The house elf is giving her the blackest of looks, but no one else besides Fred and George seems to notice—certainly not Luna herself.

Fred shares a look with his twin and together, they step forward quickly, bending a little to grab Kreacher's attention. They make sure to surround the sullen old house elf's line of sight completely so that his attention is off of Lovegood and solely on the two of them. Kreacher looks marginally happier to see their faces, the folds of skin bagging down his face smoothing out a little as the wrinkles lessen. In terms of Kreacher's happiness, the slight change in expression equals sudden and unequivocal joy.

"Hey, mate, thanks," Fred says to the hunched old thing with a cheesy grin, and George follows up with, "You did us a solid, Kreacher."

Kreacher looks up at them with big, bulbous eyes, visibly surprised to get thanked for following orders. He's still not used to being treated nicely, though that may be because Fred and his brother hadn't gotten as much time to interact with the house elf as they wished at Grimmauld Place. Fred knew that their cheery, one-sided conversations—two-sided, if one considered Fred and George as separate entities, which they did not—with the grumpy Black elf would pay off. Kreacher wouldn't answer to anyone else's orders like he did theirs.

"You know the plan," Fred continues, grinning at the house-elf.

"Hide around the castle till we call you—"

"—and once you Apparate us back—"

"—come back here and make yourself cosy in the Hogwarts kitchens."

"Blend in with the kitchen elves, make yourself one of them."

"Stay at Hogwarts where it's safe till we call for you again."

"And remember," Fred adds, schooling his face into seriousness to drive home the point.

"Don't get caught."

Kreacher levels a long look at Fred, then his brother. They stay still and let him assess them, even though they can feel the others growing impatient behind them. With good reason, of course—staying in one place too long strengthens the traces of their magical signatures that they leave behind, even if their shields lessens the traces. Kreacher, however, is a vital part of their plan, and they cannot alienate the finicky creature midway through The Plan simply because they are in a rush. Kreacher is notorious for taking offence at the slightest thing.

"Yes, Masters Wheezes," Kreacher croaks at long last, his expression growing still less pinched, if only by a miniscule amount. "Kreacher be doing his job proper."

"That's a good mate," George grins, pleased.

"Aight, Kreach, wait around till we call you, yeah? Don't forget to stay hidden," Fred adds, letting his expression fall serious again. They don't wait for Kreacher's nod, turning around quickly and hurrying to the rest of their little group.

"Let's go," Fred says to the others with a little head nod and falls into position at the head of the group, George at his side. He turns around for a quick look at the three other members of their team, and he isn't surprised to see that Dean looks the most impatient of all of them—he hides it well, though.

Bill's used to dealing with goblins, who are just as tetchy and ridiculous as Kreacher can be, and Lovegood is… well, she's Lovegood. Thomas has the odds stacked against him, Fred thinks to himself with a little internal chuckle as they swiftly cut across the open Quidditch field, heading for the grove of trees around the side of the castle that leads to the meet-up point with their allies from Hogwarts. Fred is confident that their shield will hide them from sight. It's thrillingly surreal, however, to be marching out in what feels like plain sight when they should be skulking along in the shadows.

"Go quicker," Thomas whispers behind him when they round their way past the Ravenclaw Quidditch stands and emerge fully from the field, clustered dark silhouettes ahead signalling the grove that is within sight. Fred turns back to smirk at the dark-skinned bloke, but Thomas looks surprisingly unrepentant. Then again, Fred supposes that love can do that to a person. Merlin knows Thomas is gone for Finnigan; the fact that he's so within reach after all these months of being forced apart must itch at his skin.

The walk to the grove is brisk, and before long Fred feels calm wash over him among the large trees and the placid lake before them as it did in his Hogwarts days. If he ignores the very adult-like rush of responsible panic threatening to escape from a carefully locked-away part of his brain, he could easily picture himself and his brother in their Gryffindor robes, skipping stones by the lake's edge in the moonlight after curfew. Turning to assess his twin's face, he can tell that George is also reliving those old memories, just like him.

The Black lake is cloaked in dark shadows tonight, the moon barely a sliver of light in the cloudy night sky. The water's surface holds the barest of shimmers, and Fred feels like the castle itself is camouflaging its landscape to aid them in hiding. He feels safe.

They converge under the largest willow tree under Fred and George's lead, and Fred automatically turns to Bill to retake the reins when they're safely concealed behind the willow's drooping low branches.

Bill is already on it, clapping a hand each on Dean's and Fred's shoulders and looking around at all of them. In the shadows of the tree's branches, the other's faces are barely visible. Lovegood's tied-back blonde curls shine like a beacon in the inky blackness; Thomas, on the other hand, blends into the dark like he is made for the night. Bill's face is pale and drawn, his long red hair almost black-looking in the low light. George's face, however, has never looked more familiar—it's a testament to their dedication to the pranking arts that Fred's go-to memories of his twin is of George beside him, hiding in dark, enclosed spaces.

"You know what spells to cast," Bill is saying when Fred tunes back in to his brother's instructions. The others are nodding when addressed, Thomas a tad more eager than the rest. It's barely discernible—but Fred's always had a knack for detecting body language, and Thomas is sending off impatience in subtle but definitive waves. Fred almost feels sorry for the poor bloke.

They don't need to hear The Plan again, not really. They've gone over every part of it four times in the kitchen of Shell Cottage, and twice more before Fred and George left for Grimmauld Place earlier in the night to coax Kreacher into Apparating them to Hogwarts. Fred has every step of The Plan mapped out in his mind already; it's not half as complex as some of the things he and George and their best friend Lee Jordan had pulled off back in their school days. They've already pulled off the trickiest part of their setup, namely, their entry. If they haven't gotten caught yet, it's likely that they won't even after Fred and George take down the group shield.

In the next second, Bill is gesturing at him to take down the shield, and together, Fred and George tap their wands against each other and mutter Finite Incantatum over and over to undo each layer of their shielding spells. At last, it's just the signature cloaking shield and a basic protection spell that surrounds them, and Fred looks up to find the others halfway through casting their individual cloaking and shielding spells. Bill is the first to be done, and with a nod and a loaded look at Thomas and Lovegood that feels to Fred like a silent goodbye, he peeks through the fronds of weeping willow branches and steals away into the night.

A few more whispers, and Thomas and Lovegood are decked out in cloaking spells of their own. Fred and George release the other two from the group shield, leaving them behind under the tree's protection, and walk out into the open. Without the stiffness of the additional protection spells to surround them, the lake's night breeze hits Fred like a Beater's bat to the face. The wind is restless tonight.

The Black lake is secluded from the rest of the castle grounds and most of the castle windows, sheltered with plenty of foliage and large boulder-like rocks, making it the perfect place for a rendezvous. Fred feels quite confident as he leaves their leafy green protection behind, even with no spells to make him invisible to threatening eyes.

Fred casts his eyes everywhere, scoping out the area. He can see no one, but he knows that Bill is standing under the Disillusionment charm by a handsome oak tree not far from the strategic boulder he and George are leaning against, playing lookout for the group. Bill insisted that he come along to keep an eye on all of them during the operation—Fred and his twin's rebellious reputation had likely not worked in their favour—but he's been a pretty cool chaperone so far, letting Fred and George have the space to carry out their roles in The Plan without any interference. Fred's found his respect for his oldest brother growing over the past few days.

Of everyone in the group, Fred and George are the smallest threats. Their reputation as pranksters is well-known, and even as Weasleys, the most they would arguably be hunted down for would be the products they sell at their joke shop in Diagon Alley. Fred has heard that Neville Longbottom's gang use plenty of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products to prank the Carrows and their gang of lower-rung Slytherin student-minions. The Carrows will be plenty displeased if they find Fred and his brother on Hogwarts grounds, and there will likely be a handful of Cruciatus curses to go around, but that should be as far as it goes. The twins are the only ones of the group without a threat to their lives. And so, it was decided in The Plan that they would be the potential scapegoats to show their faces at the meet-up point so that Longbottom and Finnigan and anyone who tags along know where they are.

Which is why Fred does a double-take when he sees Thomas emerge from his hiding place and quickly sneak over to them, the Disillusionment charm that should be protecting him distinctly not there. This wasn't part of The Plan.

"Thomas, what the fuck?" George softly exclaims from beside him as Thomas joins them, easily situating himself beside Fred to conceal himself better.

"I'm sorry, I know it's not part of the plan, but I just…" Thomas huffs, his eyes anxious. "I can't… Seamus is right here. I can't hide when he's gonna be here any second." Thomas' wand hand fidgets, and Fred feels the edge of Thomas' individual protection shield sparking against his own skin in agitation.

Fred and George exchange a look. Finally, George sighs and shrugs.

"At least put up a mild Disillusionment, mate," Fred suggests as a compromise.

Thomas nods reluctantly and brings up his wand to tap his head with, but before he can mutter the incantation, Fred spies a blur of movement from the corner of his vision.

"Wait," he cautions urgently, but he is too late, for before their eyes, they watch as Thomas is thrown back against their boulder roughly by an invisible force.

Fred's eyes can only widen.

Shell Cottage is quiet and dark, and even the restless sea outside seems to calm down for the night. The winds are oddly still, and it makes the gnawing pit of worry in Harry's stomach feel even more prominent.

Shell Cottage is never this quiet, neither within its baby blue wallpapered walls nor outside, by the shaggy rocks on the cliffside.

Harry breathes in deeply and curls up tighter around himself on his mattress on the floor, looking up for what feels like the millionth time to make sure Ron is still sleeping.

"Lumos," he whispers, a mere moving of his lips, and lets his wand light up with the softest of glows. Reaching under his head, he wiggles his fingers between the bottom of the pillow and the fabric of its pillowcase and pulls out a neatly folded square of paper with utmost care, feeling the familiar, worn roughness of old parchment under the pads of his fingers.

Taking another quick look to make sure Ron is still snoring above him on the bed, Harry taps his wand to the blank, yellowing sheet and whispers, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Even when he has more pressing things on his mind, the slow sprawl of ink creeping over the parchment never fails to enthrall him, if only for a second. His father helped make this map, and that is something he can never ever forget. It has to be the reason why the Marauders' Map has only kept him safe for all these years, and not once let him be put in harm's way.

He ignores the introduction calligraphed on the front of the parchment this time, forgoing admiring his father's nickname written in scroll to his impatience to see what's within.

As he flips open the folded parchment with his free hand, he absently uses his wand hand to tug Godric Gryffindor's sword closer to his person. It's become a source of comfort to him, and he has taken to having it within his sights at all times. It's crucial to their trade-off with Griphook, crucial to destroying the Horcrux they're after and all the ones they will find hence. The sword of Gryffindor is their only hope to see this mission through as a success.

His eyes rove over the locations of the most used hallways in Hogwarts even before the map is fully visible. He knows what the plan is, of course, but his eyes are primed to seek out the location of all the castle's biggest threats before he looks for anything else.

Carrows first. He spots Amycus Carrow's dot lurking around in the wide hallway branching off from the Charms corridor, and Alecto not far away, standing as sentry to the staircase on the same floor. Neville's planned diversion worked, it seems. The gang had caused absolute havoc every night for the past five consecutive nights, going in a pattern across the third floor that the Carrows had obviously picked up on, if their current positions are anything to go by.

He finds Snape's name next, the man apparently pacing up and down in the Headmaster's office. Harry's nose flares when he sees the words Severus Snape inked above the moving dot. The name itself makes his blood boil. Traitor.

Snape's been pacing a lot lately, mostly in Dumbledore's office—because Dumbledore may be gone now, but to Harry, it will never stop being Dumbledore's office—near where he knows the wall of headmasters' portraits are hung, and sometimes, Snape paces in his own rooms. Harry has almost never seen him still, and Harry checks the map every single night. It's almost gratifying to see Snape so unsettled after he betrayed everyone so spectacularly. Almost. It's still not enough.

Harry looks out for anyone else roaming the halls next, and what he sees gets him a little tense. He finds Crabbe, Goyle and Hestia Carrow in a narrow corridor not far from the Hufflepuff common room. The three dots are bafflingly still, and Harry concludes after a quick judge of positioning of their dots against the wall that the three of them must be laid out cold, because there is no way they are guarding anything or lying in wait for anybody based on where their dots lie.

He next sees Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones' dots near where the three dots belonging to the Slytherinsare, past the entrance of the Hufflepuff common room and moving further down the hallway in the direction of the kitchens, and he's suddenly a little more worried. Something must have happened.

The need to check Neville and Seamus' dots claws its way up his throat, and Harry gives in to the urge to flip over the folds of the map till he sees the grounds of Hogwarts. His eyes instantly zeros onto the Black Lake, and he breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees all the dots where they should be.

Harry's breath sounds overly loud in the inky blackness of the room, and he instantly angles his wand up and checks on Ron again. The lump under the covers is still, one foot poking out under the sheet in the same position it's been in for the past hour. A muffled snore confirms that Ron is still asleep.

Quickly shifting his focus back to the map, he checks over all the dots again to make sure they're all there, safe like they're supposed to be. There's Neville, and Luna, and Seamus and Dean, and Fred and George beside each other, and Bill over to the side a short distance away. Seamus and Dean's dots are practically layered together, with their names fighting for space next to each other. Seamus must be quite like an excited puppy to have Dean back, Harry surmises. He wouldn't be surprised if Seamus was hugging the life out of Dean right now.

He sets the map down on his knees while he continues to observe the gathering by the Black Lake, using his now-free hand to pull the sword of Gryffindor fully into his lap. He plays with the outline of the large rubies inlaid into the hilt, and slides his finger over the flat of the silver blade from time to time. It gives his nervous hands something to do.

The first part of their plan seems to have gone okay so far. Not without hitches—the Slytherins likely knocked unconscious is evidence enough, as is Ernie's and Susan's wandering outside their common room—but none of the DA members Harry can keep track of through the map look like they've been hurt or compromised. The ones hiding in the Room of Requirement, however… those, he's not so sure about. He can just cross his fingers and hope they're okay.

He has to keep telling himself that Dean and Luna are safe, that he can see their dots right there in front of him, that Bill is there to watch over all of them and that he'll make sure the twins don't get themselves in trouble. Most of all, he has to remind himself that everyone gathered by the Black Lake can take care of themselves, even on their own.

The cottage is still silent, and the longer he stares at the map, the more eerie the silence starts to feel. Harry has been so used to having to make excuses to get out of the cramped, busy little cottage during the days, but he's gotten accustomed to the feeling of occupancy he gets from the cottage every night.

In the very room he's sleeping in, it used to be Dean, Ron and Harry taking turns on the bed and the floor. In the next room, it was Hermione and Luna, with Mr Ollivander and Griphook occupying the little converted attic. Fleur and Bill have the main bedroom, of course, not that their room is much bigger than the rest of theirs. It is a small cottage, not meant for so many residents, and every night, the house felt alive and stifling with the very knowledge of their presences. Tonight, with just three of them gone, the house feels like a living ghost.

Harry wouldn't admit it aloud, but Dean's absence feels like a vacuum in their room. Harry was used to tiptoeing around him, to the added wariness of checking the map every night while the other boy slept so near him. Dean was always silent—he even slept silently, unlike Ron's intermittent snores—but every time Harry looks around the room tonight, it's painfully obvious that Dean is not with them anymore.

It's just him and Ron now, and the emptiness to the room is jarring. A little tense as well, because as much as Harry likes to pretend he's put his fight with Ron behind them, it's not so easy when looks at his best friend and sees a hesitancy he knows is reflected within himself.

And Luna. Luna never talked much—not that she was a talker before she got kidnapped—but her presence was comforting. Every day, Luna would join Harry by the rocks, and they'd sit quietly and observe the tides for a while. On the one week anniversary of Dobby's death, Harry had broken down and cried silent tears beside her. Luna had said nothing, only pulled him against her shoulder and petted his unkempt hair. Harry misses Luna already.

And still, Harry was the one to suggest that they left for Hogwarts. It's not that he doesn't want them here—he does, and it's obvious in the way he is currently moping—but it is imperative that they are safe. There's no safer place than Hogwarts, even if the castle is currently ruled by Voldemort and evil traitors and wicked minions. No one is ever going to think of searching for Luna and Dean at Hogwarts. Luna is wanted as a captive still, and Dean is forbidden on the castle territory as a supposed Muggleborn.

Even if someone did have a stroke of insanity and scoured the castle for occupants that aren't meant to be there, the Room of Requirement will not let them in, and Neville will keep them safe.

Harry holds complete faith in Neville. The others used to call Neville an almost-Squib, but Harry has seen the fire in his dark gaze when they trained together under Dumbledore's Army in their fifth year. He's seen the way Neville fought in the Department of Mysteries. It would take a highly stressful situation for Neville to unlock his full potential, Harry had known—but this year has been nothing less than stressful to the ones at Hogwarts, and Neville Longbottom is nothing less than a Gryffindor.

He's proving his capabilities left and right to everyone who doubted him all these years. And Harry, as his previous trainer and full-time friend, couldn't be prouder.

If today's resettlement mission goes according to plan, the Room of Requirement could become a safe place for a lot of Muggleborns on the run, especially those of Hogwarts ages. Harry knows through Luna that Neville is already making plans.

If they get caught, however, especially with three Weasleys on the wanted list still on Hogwarts grounds… Harry doesn't want to know. It's better for all of them that they don't find out.

Looking down at the map, Harry notes with relief that they don't have to find out. Fred, George and Bill are gone. Harry doesn't know how the Weasleys found their way into and out of Hogwarts, but he is patient enough to wait till Hermione pesters Bill to tell them the whole story tomorrow at breakfast. Neville, Seamus, Dean and Luna are making their way quite swiftly across the grounds.

Part two of the plan seems to have gone really well, and now, it's just part three that's left. Getting the fugitives to the Room of Requirement. To safety.

As he watches them run up the steps to the main doors of the castle, he thinks fondly of Ginny, who would have been right there in Neville's place if she was still at Hogwarts. She wouldn't have let Neville take one step out of the RoR, wanting to keep him safe as their leader. A stealth mission like this would be exactly the kind of thing she would be part of, especially since it led them to Luna and Dean. He misses seeing her dot on the castle map every night, but he'd rather she laid low—safe, just as Bill said she is.

A sudden sound has him jerking his head up.

Harry flinches when he hears Ron's wake-up snore, extinguishing his wandlight quickly and burrowing under the covers. He's well hunkered down on his mattress and holding his breath when Ron grunts sleepily and turns on his side, kicking out the leg stuck out of the bed twice and subsequently pushing the covers even more off his leg. Ron mumbles something that sounds like, "Harry, get the fish," and thumps his head on the pillow once again, and he's off in dreamland after what feels like too long but may only be three seconds.

When Harry hears the soft, muffled rumbling sounds coming from Ron's mouth, he lets out the breath he's been holding in. Ron will be snoring again soon. He's not caught.

A little more hesitant now, he relights his wand and pulls out his map again. Harry doesn't know what exactly bothers him so much about anyone finding out his nightly stalkery activities, but it just… does. Maybe it's pride.

Ron had been right. Back in October when they had their big argument in the woods, Ron had snapped to Harry that war had made him selfish and that he didn't care about the safety of others as much anymore. And he was right. Every day, Harry can only drown in the grief and misery and the unfairness that is his lot in life. Every day, he is angry and brittle and done with the world and uncaring of anything except the three of them and their mission.

But if days are for himself, nights are for the people he knows and cares about.

Since October, Hermione has spent plenty of nights with him tuned in to the Potterwatch radio while they were alone together, safe within their tent in the inky blackness of the night. And on each of those nights, like clockwork, the broadcast would end at midnight and she would go to sleep, and Harry would stay up till the dull light of dawn approached to pore over the Marauder's Map and check on all the occupants of the castle it illustrated. He never stopped that tradition, even once Ron came back and joined them.

Now that they are all at Shell Cottage, they listen to the Potterwatch broadcasts together in Bill and Fleur's warm kitchen before they all retire to bed, but while Harry used to share a room with Ron and Dean and now just Ron, he's never let that stop him from doing his thing. He's an old pro at it, after all. He's been doing this now for nearly six months.

He can't physically be of help to those at Hogwarts, nor can he check on those people he cares about who are not at Hogwarts, like the Weasley family. Ginny, staying low in a safehouse with her parents. Fred and George. Lee Jordan, in charge of running Potterwatch. The other Order members, like Tonks and Lupin. His old Quidditch team. The Muggleborn students he knows, like the Creevey brothers.

All he can watch are those within the castle. And it's not enough, but it's all he can do. If Luna and Dean get safely to the RoR, it won't be long before they find ways to bring in the rest of those Muggleborn students who are in hiding. They can hide at Hogwarts instead. And while Harry can't observe the Room of Requirement on his map, he can communicate with Neville on the status of their health. Luna gave him her DA coin before she left for just that purpose, since Harry's lost his.

So he curls up tighter on his mattress and keeps his wand light low, and rests his elbow on the flat of the sword of Gryffindor, laid in his lap, and keeps his vigil for the rest of the night.

His eyes don't leave the map till the next dawn, even when there is nothing to see.

Neville shakes his head to himself when he sees the invisible blur attack Dean. Merlin, he has never seen Seamus so beside himself. The idiot didn't even undo his Disillusionment spell before he threw all four limbs at Dean.

It's a miracle they haven't been hexed for Seamus' efforts. One of the Weasley twins, wide-eyed beside Dean's sprawled form, looks like he's physically holding himself back from casting terrifying offensive spells blindly at the air in the direction he surmises Seamus to be. The other brother's sharp brown eyes are staring straight at Neville, even though Neville knows his Disillusionment charm is impeccably precise.

It must be Seamus' Irish luck that's working in their favour. Neville can only hope that his friend can hold onto that luck till their night ends—with all the odds stacked against them, they need all the luck they can get their hands on. Besides, it's rare that Seamus gets his hands on anything beyond chaos. They might as well make the best of it.

"Dean, Dean, oh Merlin," Neville can hear his friend babbling, and that's when it truly hits him. It's Dean Thomas. Dean Thomas is at Hogwarts. Dean's alive; he's standing right before them, alive and whole and seemingly unchanged from his old unruffled self.

Merlin, Neville's missed him.

Sparing but a second of thought to remove the Disillusionment over himself, he carries himself over to Dean with large strides and throws his own arms around the other boy, Seamus trapped between them.

"Mate," he lets out with feeling, and relief takes over his body and leaves him drained. He feels a sharp wave of cold wash over him before he's left clean and re-energised, like a hastily struck match thrown into dying embers.

Seamus is wiggling between them, and Neville lets go of Dean with his right arm to give Seamus enough space to undo his own Disillusionment. He can see the residual turmoil in Dean's dark eyes calm when they settle on Seamus' ecstatic, now-visible face.

"Not that this reunion is not touching," a slightly caustic voice cuts in, and Neville looks up to see one of the Weasley twins—he thinks it's George, but he can never be sure—staring at them with a little smile playing on his lips, arms crossed casually over his chest. "But we do need to get on with it. You can get in all the hugging and kissing and crying you want when you're safely inside, yeah? Yeah. Let's move it."

Neville blinks and nods, feeling a little tongue-tied.

"Hi," Luna's musical-soft voice comes directly behind Neville, and he turns around so fast that he not only loses his footing but also almost pulls Seamus and Dean down with him. "I didn't want the Blibbering Humdingers to make you forget my hiding place, so I came over myself."

Neville stumbles to keep himself upright and stares, and then breaks out into the biggest grin he's grinned in nearly a year.

"Luna!"

"Hi, Neville," Luna returns with a dreamy little smile, "How have the Nargles been treating you?"

"Very well, thanks," he answers her, still grinning maniacally, "They're getting quite good at leaving me alone now. I think it's that bracelet you made for me that does it."

Luna's detached personality gives way to active surprise for a split second, hazy blue eyes turning sharp and disbelieving. "You still have it?"

Without a word, he pulls out his Butterbeer-cork bracelet from the front pocket of his robes and dangles it by a finger for her to see, the urge for laughter pulling at his lips.

When her expression settles, it's pleased and happy, and he's proud of himself for getting through to her so quickly. It's quite likely, in fact, that he's beaten all the old records he'd set before she got kidnapped in December. It looks like he's still got it.

"Come on, you knobs, catch up later," the second Weasley twin interrupts, mimicking his brother's crossed-arms stance more impatiently. "We're not out of the woods yet."

"Well actually, George," the first Weasley twin—Fred—cuts in with a sharp smirk, "we're nowhere near the Forbidden Forest…"

"Oh, will you stop it!" George exclaims softly, making Fred grin wider.

Neville would like to say he's missed the Weasley twins in his final years at Hogwarts, but their brand of mayhem is so unlike the kind of calmer ferocity Neville himself prefers that he hasn't given much thought to their Hogwarts presence beyond some of the older prank products they had sold within the castle walls, and their recent recurring appearances on the Potterwatch radio show.

Seeing them bickering before him, though, makes him wish that the Weasley twins were still thriving at Hogwarts. They would have given the Carrows hell, he thinks to himself fondly.

Seamus and Dean have seized the opportunity the twins' little squabble presents to whisper softly to each other, things Neville is certain he has no business hearing. From what he sees, Seamus refuses to let go of the arm of Dean's thick jumper, not that Dean seems in any hurry to have him release any part of his clothing.

He can always check on Dean properly later, Neville tells himself as he edges closer to Luna. He'll let the newly reunited couple have their moment.

"Are you alright?" he asks Luna when he is near enough to murmur his question, soft enough to reach her ears only.

"Quite," she responds pleasantly, smiling up at him. "I had dear Mr Ollivander to keep me company where I was being held. Not much of a conversationalist, but he was quite sweet. And we were joined by a lovely goblin named Griphook not long after. It was really nice."

Neville considers her words, and then takes a moment to observe her. Luna's blonde hair looks duller and flatter in the moonlight, but Neville suspects that it is not simply a case of bad lighting that makes it look so. Her skin is more pallid than pale, and while it's clear that she's well on her way to recovery, she's not fully there yet.

"Riiiight." He stretches out the word sceptically, feeling his lips twitch at having Luna be so Luna about the whole situation. "Tell me the whole story later."

Her eyes sparkle at his words. "Well, since you asked so specifically, I suppose I must."

Neville wonders if there was anything in the world that could truly break her spirit. He never wants to find out.

"We're done, lovebirds," Fred calls them over with softly hissed words, but his stance and lazy gesturing makes him look nothing if not amused. "Get back here." Neville and Luna share a look, grin slightly in commiseration, and do as instructed.

It takes a little gentler coaxing for Seamus and Dean to pull away from each other and focus on the rest of them, but they're all gathered together in the vague approximation of a circle before too much time is lost.

"Is Ginny okay?" Neville hastens to ask before they get on to business, because it's a question that's been on his mind since she forwent returning to Hogwarts for laying down low with her parents during the Easter holidays, once the truth of Ron's spattergroit status reached public ears and the rest of the Weasley clan were about to be brought up for suspicion. Ginny has still held onto her Galleon coin, of course, but communicating via galleon isn't close to fulfilling.

Fred and George's eyes snap to him, assessing him for a short second. "Gin did tell us you were leading the DA with her," Neville hears Fred murmur quietly to himself. Louder, he continues, "Ginny's fine. Can't tell you where she is—Fidelius, you know—but she's just as annoying and energetic as ever. Says she misses the DA. If you get these two to safety," he gestures to Dean and Luna, "you can bet she's gonna start scheming to get herself over to Hogwarts next."

Seamus laughs. "Tell her we miss her too, but she should stay where she is. She's safer there. Besides, we've got things handled here just fine." Seamus glances over at Neville with pride in his expressive eyes, and Neville feels a burst of happy surprise sparking within his chest. It's been months since the DA's resurgence, and yet he's still not used to seeing that particular emotion directed at him by any of his friends. There's no pity, no commiseration—just plain, unadulterated respect.

Fred and George shoot each other unreadable looks before they crack up with muted laughter. "Well. I'm sure she'll be very displeased to hear that," George eventually comments, still chuckling, and it makes everyone else grin as well.

"Anyway, we just wanted to give you these before we go." Fred reaches into the depths of his robes to pull out a small tied sack, and steps forward to hand it to Neville. He accepts it with puzzlement.

"Enlarge it when you're back in the RoR," Fred adds, tacking on a wink at his questioning look. "You'll like what you find."

Neville and Seamus automatically turn to each other, eyes widening. "Fresh off the market?" Seamus asks them with an urgent little gasp, and Neville's head swivels back to the twins instantly for their response.

"Better. They're not even on the market yet," Fred answers, smirking. "They're not prototypes either, fully tested. You can reign havoc on the whole school with those babies."

Neville's eyes cannot possibly get wider, and yet, he finds that they do. "Merlin, thanks! How did you know we were running out of ammo?"

"We didn't," the redhead says simply. "But we figured you'd still want it whether your current stash is sufficient or not. I doubt it must be easy for you to sneak Weasley products into Hogwarts."

"Oh, there are so many bans on your stuff, you don't even want to know," Seamus comments, looking thrilled. "It's hell."

"Exactly." George grins. "Do us proud, kiddos." He reaches quickly into the pockets of his own robes, pulling out a short stack of flat books.

"We figured three was a good number to give you. Communication journals. We took inspiration from the bastard who made that journal that sunk Ginny back with the Chamber of Secrets fiasco. You can use these to communicate with any of the Order folks; each page is dedicated to each member. And before you ask, no, Ginny does not have one—because, you know, murder diary, trauma, bastard—but we'll pass along any messages."

He hands one journal to Dean and Seamus, one to Luna, and the last to Neville. "If you need any of us, just write in and we'll get the message."

"Thanks, mate," Neville says, smiling as he looks over the cover of the book. "We appreciate it."

"Anything for chaos," George responds with a wink, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Now you kids be good," Fred adds, "do all your homework and eat all your vegetables—"

"Oh, get lost, man," Seamus interrupts him, laughing, "we're leaving."

The twins grin in unison one last time before they tap their wands against their foreheads and, with synchronised muttered spells, disappear.

"We'll be in touch, mates," one of the twins' voices floats around them as Neville casts a Disillusionment Charm on himself. Around him, the others are in the process of casting their own invisibility spells.

"Say hi to Gin for us," Neville whispers softly, hoping the twins catch his words, and the strong hand clasping his arm lets him know that he's been heard. A swish and a quick flutter of air, rippling into the distance, and then there is silence.

"We'll hold hands," Seamus' voice cuts through the bleak night on Neville's left, closer than he expected Seamus to be. A hand reaches for Neville's hand and he takes it, automatically grasping the air with his right hand till it finds Luna's daintier one.

"Dean, you've got hold of Seamus?" he calls out softly to the other boy, and gets a murmured affirmative in response.

This is how they make their way back—four invisible students making their way boldly across Hogwarts' grounds, hands clasped in each others' and matching step side by side.

It does get awkward sometimes. Neville's used to following the hand-in-hand protocol on their nightly jaunts around Hogwarts' many corridors and secret spots, but it's been a minute since he's done it with Luna and Dean is completely unused to this exercise. After all, it's a different experience to get used to when holding hands with three people who are invisible. They stumble in places, but Neville is pleased to note that even Dean gets the hang of it before they are within view of the castle's giant entrance doors.

Slowly, they make their way up all the steps and wait as Luna to budges open the door inch by inch. Finally, there's a gap wide enough for each of them to squeeze through one by one, and with a little bit of manoeuvring and patience, they soon find themselves safely standing in the grand Entrance Hall of their school.

"I'm guessing you have a plan," Dean's soft whisper carries through the hall, louder than Neville wishes it could be. He winces and immediately looks around for movement nearby, a reflex borne from habit. "Sorry," Dean's voice adds, quiet enough this time that Neville can barely hear him at all.

Neville nods silently, then remembers the invisibility spell and lets Seamus answer for him instead, since Seamus is closer to Dean. "We do," Neville hears the Irish boy whisper. "System," Seamus adds brusquely as he and Neville lead the other two to the dungeon entrance by the hand, and Neville knows that Seamus is showing him the 'one squeeze for go, two for stay' hand signal system they have. He makes sure to convey the same thing to Luna as they steal through the dungeon doors and make their way down the steps.

Their trek is silent and uneventful. Green-lit lamps light their way, casting eerie shadows against the stone walls, and it feels like a lifetime has passed by when they finally escape Slytherin's side of the dungeons completely and reach the cheerier Hufflepuff corridors. It's not long after that that they come across the telltale fruit bowl painting, and Neville feels relief knowing that their secret passage to ultimate safety is not far ahead.

Beside him, Neville can feel Seamus' grip on his hand untense. Ahead, he can see the slab of stone that hides the entrance to their secret passage, and he guides the others towards it, feeling the sensation of relief bubbling up within him double.

From the quiet exclamation that comes to his left, Neville surmises that Dean was not expecting the stone wall he tapped his wand against to give way with such swift suddenness. The complete silence on his other side tells him that Luna is either characteristically unsurprised or hiding it very well.

Pocketing his wand and feeling around for Luna's hand, he leads the others into the passage's dark depths and, when the stone wall closes back on itself, lets go of Luna's hand long enough to pull out his wand again and cast a Lumos Maxima spell. With a quiet gesture, he gets the others to follow him down the cramped passage, a small, glowing white ball of energy lighting their path.

"I didn't know there was a hidden passage here," Dean ventures to ask when they're safely climbing up a set of rough-hewn stone staircases set into the ground. "Are we… is this tunnel running along the walls of the castle?"

"You're right, actually," Neville acknowledges from his position at the head of the little pack. "The Room of Requirement provided this for us when we were looking for safe passage out of the room without using its main entrance. This passage is set into the very walls of the castle, sandwiched between the stone. Enlarged space, the Patil twins think it is. Leads directly into the RoR."

"That is interesting," Luna comments, and the breezy sound of her tone holds a finality that has all of them shutting up and lapsing back into silence for the rest of the trip upstairs.

After an eternity of climbing up staircases, round and round and winding slowly enough to cause them all a mild case of vertigo, they finally reach a door that is more than familiar to Neville. At some point over the course of his few months spent in hiding, this door has come to signify home.

We're out of the woods now, he tells himself with a soft smile.

"We're here," he says to the others, his only warning as he tap-taps the door with their signature code and waits to be let in. After a second of tense silence, the door swings open.

Neville removes the Disillusionment Charm with swift flourish and steps into the room, its soft lights bright and blinding after an eternity spent wandering around in the dark. He looks around at the crowd gathered within his quarters, significantly more than the paltry numbers he had left in here mere hours ago.

The room is silent; a pin could drop and the clang would echo round and round and round for all of them to hear. The silence is stifling. Everyone is staring. They are all looking at him.

And then, he sees the relief bloom across their faces, one by one, and after a beat of pause, Lavender raises her hands to clap.

"You brought them back!" someone from the back hollers, and it brings everyone else to life, the air soon filled with hooting and cheering.

Neville stands still and stares around at the room in stunned silence as each and every one of its occupants stands up in applause for him.

"… and we found Crabbe and Goyle and Hestia Carrow creeping about near our common room when we were on our way with Hannah's things, so we jumped them and had them stashed away somewhere safe before we got here. I reckon the lumps are still lulling away in dreamland, all trussed up in that closet like they are."

Luna looks around serenely at the Room of Requirement and its furnishings, perched on a corner of Neville's bed as she listens to the discussion Neville is having with Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones with one sharp ear. There have been quite the goings on within this room since Neville and Seamus left to pick her and Dean up from their meeting point, if Hannah's and now Susan's story is anything to go by.

It is the teensiest bit jarring to come back to this flurry of information and activity after spending months in endless captivity and a month more in Shell Cottage, the quiet little place by the seashore. She can see Dean looking overwhelmed at the rapidfire exchange between Susan and Neville, and longs to go over to offer her hand in comfort. Seamus is notably ecstatic to have Dean back, as is expected, but the Hufflepuffs' report of their night seems to have surprisingly captivated Seamus enough to garner his rapt attention, and the palm conjoined with Dean's is her only indication that he even remembers Dean's presence beside him.

Luna cannot deny that she is turned around by Seamus' dedication, but then again, she also cannot deny that, keeping aside his excitement, Seamus doesn't look much like himself anymore. She supposes that these past few months have changed all of them in some way or form. Lavender, standing confidently in sentry position at the other end of the room, also looks so much more serious and sure of herself than Luna remembers her being in December. Back then, Lavender was still struggling to shed her naivete, but observing her now, Luna can say that the Gryffindor girl looks nothing less than a mature, responsible adult.

The Room of Requirement looks remarkably lived in for a "temporary" living situation that has been in existence for not more than a month. Luna suspects that this place has become the headquarters for all the members of the DA to the point where everyone considers this their home. Luna can see why—the room exudes a feeling of safety and comfort that is gravitational. Much like Neville, really. Neville looks right at home in this place, falling relaxed and effortlessly carrying himself like a real leader must. Neville's brand of quiet command is something that all the poor hunted students gathered in the RoR would badly desire, and Luna realises with surprise that it's possible that these students don't return here simply for the comfort of the room, but also for the comfort of their leader.

Luna is so, so proud of her friend for coming into himself this way. The circumstances have been hard, but Neville has made himself someone to be admired in these difficult times. And to anyone who has doubted him for all these years, Luna can only stand by and say 'I told you so'—in words far more cryptic than those, because Luna does so love to see the stricken realisation on people's faces when they see that she is not as batty as they perceive her to be.

It's liberating to prove people wrong. Something that, she thinks as she glances around at all the people scattered about the room, a lot of these people have also realised.

"Alright," Neville summarises with a definitive huff as he leans forward, tightly hugging the back of the desk chair he is straddling, "What we have right now is Hannah's allegiance uncovered, Carrow, Crabbe and Goyle potentially raising a ruckus in the morning when they wake up, a Gryffindor second-year recovering in Seamus' bed—he hasn't seen our setup here yet, you say?—and a bed created here for Hannah to stay. Anything else?"

"The boy hasn't woken up yet," Hannah responds to Neville's quick question. "Parv spelled the curtains on Seamus' bed to act like a shield. He cannot hear us talking if he wakes up, but we'll be able to hear if he does. We didn't get the RoR to make up a bed for him yet because we didn't know if you'd want him to stay or get shipped off to Madam Pomfrey to retain this place's secrecy." Her voice is soft, but self-assured, and Luna quite likes her no-nonsense attitude. There is but one stray Nargle hovering by Hannah's head, which is just so impressive.

"Nigel knows the kid," Lavender suddenly chimes in from her position at the door, "Says the kid won't spill if he does find out about us. Of course, we cannot guarantee his silence, but given his condition right now, I'd say we take that chance. He'll heal better and faster with Hannah and me to take care of him. Madam Pomfrey may be more experienced, but we cannot risk him being found by the Slytherins and beaten up again."

The heads of a group near Lavender swivel around to glance at Nigel Wolpert as if assessing whether the boy's judgement can be trusted. Luna can only assume that they are the more recent members. She does not recognise them as part of the DA, and seeing the way little Nigel shrinks back at the attention, she decides instantly to be wary of them.

"Of course we'll let him stay," Neville quickly says, drawing the attention back to himself, and the tiny frown he aims at the people caught staring makes Luna feel validated. Some of them look acceptably sheepish, but there is one familiar Gryffindor face—Cormac McLaggen, Luna remembers his name—who is sporting the most unpleasantly haughty look. Luna resolves to stay far away from him.

"I'll get right on to that after we're done here," Neville adds. "I'll get the RoR to make up a proper bed for the boy, and also create a separate bathroom for you," he promises Hannah, "If there's anything else you need in it and you can't get it created yourself, just ask and I'll help."

"Thanks, Nev," Hannah responds gratefully. Neville smiles back.

"Anything else I should know about?" he asks the room at large as he leans back and stretches his arms, and gets several headshakes in the negative.

When he continues to stare pointedly at the newer arrivals Luna does not recognise, Michael Corner pipes up from his cushioned chair to say, "Parvati found them heading here when she went to get the potions. Said they wanted to be here when you brought Thomas and Luna back."

Luna cocks her head at him, wondering at his almost sullen tone. The Michael she knew was just as quiet as he is now, but he also had a soft sense of placidness that he doesn't seem to have anymore. Luna used to get on quite well with Michael. In fact, he is one of the few Ravenclaws she used to call a friend.

"Oh, alright then," she belatedly catches Neville responding. His shoulders are visibly more relaxed now. With a pat to the wooden backrest, Neville pushes himself up and off his chair and straightens it back the right way around with one hand. Briskly, he walks over to where Luna sits and, throwing her a quick smile in acknowledgement, he opens the drawer beside her and reaches into his pocket to pull out the sack of pranks he was given at the lake, reaching back in for his copy of the little communication journal. Luna slides away to the foot of the bed to give him more room to move around in.

"What's that, Nev?" Padma Patil speaks for the first time since Luna entered the RoR, curiously crossing the room to be closer to them. Stopping at Michael's armchair, she glances at him fondly and makes herself comfortable on the arm of his chair. Luna doesn't miss the way his eyes soften for her. Michael shifts a little to the side to accommodate her, and Luna suddenly notices the stiffness with which he moves. She wonders if he's been hurt, and resolves to ask Neville about it later.

Neville takes the time to safely store both the sack and the journal before he turns around to respond to Padma. "Pranks from the Weasley twins," he says, crossing over to Luna's other side to view the rest of the room better, and taking a seat beside her. His voice sounds pleased.

The reaction is instantaneous.

"Weasley pranks?!" Nigel asks excitedly, momentarily forgetting his shyness.

"How did they know we were out of ammo?" Lavender asks, grinning a brilliant smile. It instantly makes her look less like a bodyguard and more like a teenager.

"We don't have to ration out what we have anymore!" a Hufflepuff Luna does not recognise exclaims from the back.

Neville chuckles at the unanimous response. "They didn't know we were out of ammo, we just got lucky. They said these aren't even on the market yet, so no one's going to recognise where these are coming from for a while. We'll have a look at what's inside later, if that sounds good?"

A dozen nods meet his question, and Seamus says, looking thoughtful, "You know, I wonder if Ginny's the one who made them send stuff over for us. She knows how painful it is to get Weasley products in here. If it was her who thought of it, you know Fred and George aren't ones to admit it."

Luna blinks and considers Seamus' point. There is truth to what he says, she realises.

Beside her, Neville seems to be thinking along the same lines. "That sounds like it makes sense," he murmurs. "Trust Gin to come through for us."

Luna smiles softly at the words, fighting the urge to dwell on the sadness looming within her chest at the mention of Ginny's name. Merlin above, she misses her best friend. It's not the same without Ginny beside her to crack all the quippy jokes Luna would never dare to voice herself. She hopes that wherever Ginny is, she is safe.

The others are excited about replenishing their prank weapons stores, and so the conversation continues in its celebratory vein for quite a bit longer. The mood feels a little lighter, the smiles on everyone's faces a little brighter, and Luna can tell that they've all been worried about acquiring supplies. It sounds like a trifling problem on the surface, since as far as Luna knows they used to carry out a lot of their activities using spell-based strategies, but she supposes that they may have had to up their game in the months since she's been gone.

Once the excitement dies down, however, Neville turns to her with a particularly serious look in his gentle brown eyes. "Are you ready to tell your story?" he asks her softly, his gaze boring into her, and she knows that he will not press her for information she is not willing to share with the group. It makes her feel better, the gentleness in her friend's eyes. Neville always did know how to communicate best with her.

She turns to glance over at Dean. Dean is looking right at her, worry showing up prominently on his features. He's sitting too far to have heard Neville—not that anyone could have heard him, Neville made sure his words wouldn't be caught by anyone but her—but she knows how Dean worries over her, has worried over her since they were held together in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor, and she also knows that even though Dean couldn't have possibly heard Neville, he knows what she was asked anyway.

Do I tell them? she tries to ask with her eyes, because even though she and Dean have talked about this before, she wants to make sure they're still on the same page. Yes, his expression conveys, a slight but sure nod of his chin, and with a deep breath and both Dean's and Neville's gentle comfort steadying her, she begins to tell her story to the people gathered around her.

She tells them about how she was kidnapped from the train. She tells them about Malfoy Manor, and where she was held, and the people she was held with. She tells them all the little things she overheard the Death Eaters passing through the dungeons say, unimportant details mixed with a handful of throwaway treasures. She was kidnapped to stop her father from saying encouraging things about Harry Potter in the Quibbler, did they know? She was tortured three times with the Cruciatus Curse and spared from one session with Walden Macnair and his knives by their sudden rescue, how about that?

The students listen with rapt attention as she tells her story, interjecting with gasps and wide-eyed exclamations of shock at the particularly gruelling details, but no one interrupts her while she talks. Luna watches as the look on Cormac McLaggen's face grows more and more ashen with each addition to her story, and she wonders if this is the first time he has truly had to deal with a real experience of war. The students here are by no means sheltered from horrors within the castle, but some of them have it worse than others, and Luna is relatively certain that Cormac does not come under that category.

All through her story, she finds Dean's eyes on hers, and halfway through the tale, Neville's hand slips into hers and squeezes gently. With one hand fisted into her blue blouse, she clings onto Neville's warm hand with the other. The hand never leaves, not even as she moves past the stories of her capture and moves on to her month by the sea.

She cannot tell them she stayed at Shell Cottage—even if there wasn't the Fidelius Charm to consider, she would not be so callous as to reveal to anyone the location of the hosts who were so kind to her when she needed a place to stay—but she does tell that Harry was there with her. She tells them that Harry, Ron and Hermione are safe, but while everyone lets out a wave of relief at Harry Potter's name, precious few do the same for Ron and Hermione as well. Seamus, Lavender and the Patil twins, she is happy to see, are part of those select few.

She will work on the others, she decides to herself. She may not like Hermione Granger sometimes—or as it may be, the other way around—but both Hermione and Ron are still her friends. They've fought side by side where it counts. Harry Potter is her special friend, but Hermione and Ron have helped make the DA what it is, and the DA is her family.

Once she gives them the basics of information about Harry and his friends' safety, Dean nods to her, and she happily lets him take over. She is quite good at detaching herself from the present happenings when it is required of her, and she has gotten better over the years, if she would be so frank as to assess her own improvement, but she still does dislike when everyone's eyes are on her. For every set of eyes that stare at her while she speaks, a part of her wonders if there is also a mind behind those eyes that is mocking her. She is well past feeling insecurity by other people's judgements, but they do still hurt.

"They're searching for something," Dean ends his share of the tale, "Objects. Multiple. I don't know what it is about them that Harry needs, but all three of them seem pretty tense over it. Whatever those objects are, they must be part of something really serious."

"Are you sure Harry Potter isn't just waffling around to buy himself time?" someone from the back boldly asks. "He's been jaunting around the country with his mates for Merlin knows how long, and no one has seen hide nor hair of 'em for all this time." The accusation makes Luna very angry, but beside her, Neville is also tensing up, so she lets him handle it.

"Don't ever speak ill of Harry," Neville warns the boy—Gryffindor, Luna notes, how ironic—with as much fierceness as that which Luna might find in a lion. "Harry has had enough of our ungratefulness. Year after year, he does something to help us, to save us, and what do we do? We wait for more, for the next battle we want him to fight for us. He's put himself in bad positions for us, and all we see is what is to be seen on the surface. How many of you have mocked him? Shunned him? Treated him like dirt?"

The room is silent. People are starting to glance away. Neville's steel-soft voice gets steadily louder as he speaks, and he rips his hand from Luna's to stand up and point at all of them. Luna lets him.

"How many of you have even said 'thank you' to him and meant it? You can cheer him on when he's the media's golden goose, but what about when he's not? Do you know the sacrifices he has made in trying to keep us all safe? To keep You-Know-Who away for as long as possible? He warned us of You-Know-Who's return years ago; did any of you believe him?"

Looking around at all their faces, Nevile continues, jabbing his finger with anger. "All of you, all of you have wronged him, and the ones out there sleeping in their own beds have wronged him even more, because they expect him to come back to save the day when they don't do anything to save themselves! Harry is right to hide away from all of us, if that is what he's really doing—but mark my words, soon he's going to have what he needs and he'll come back to fight for you, again, and once again you will sit back and let him fight like it is your right to make him do so, and when he wins the war for us, once again, yet again you're going to let him go without so much as a thank you! "

Discomfort is not a pretty visual to look at, Luna finds as she observes the reactions garnered by Neville's passionate tirade.

Neville soon deflates. "Look, I'm not saying all this to make you feel bad. What's done is done, and I know that Harry can be remarkably forgiving. All of us are in the wrong here; I'm just as complicit as you."

He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, and Luna reaches up to snag the pinky of his left hand, the one closer to her, and holds on to it to help ground him better. Neville doesn't look down at her, but he winds his pinky around her finger in thanks.

"I always believed him, you know. I've never doubted Harry, not ever. But I was too much of a coward to ever tell people they were wrong about him, and if I'm standing here right now doing this, I'm seven years too late. We just… we have to stop pitting ourselves against him. We're all on the same side, are we not?" Expectantly, Neville looks around for a response, getting a few stray nods from the group.

"Then the least we can do right now is to be ready for if Harry ever needs us. To fight, if we have to. Whatever Harry needs from us."

Luna thinks for a long moment, then tugs at Neville's finger to get his attention. When he looks down at her questioningly, she says, "Harry's going to come to Hogwarts."

Everyone's heads swivel to stare at her.

"What?" Neville asks, his eyes widening.

"Harry and I talked about it," she explains for him, and all those who may be listening, "At least one of the objects he's looking for is bound to be here. Harry said so himself, and I think so too. I think Hogwarts is going to be his last stop once he has all the other objects gathered. He didn't say so, but he's worried about putting all of us here in danger, so he's going to be putting it off for as long as possible. But he cannot avoid it forever, because this is the only place where he will find the last piece to the puzzle."

"Harry's coming?" Seamus asks disbelievingly, turning to Dean. Dean nods with an absent little smile, looking like he's thinking about it deeply.

"I don't know as much as Luna, but I agree. Whatever those objects are, they've got to do with You-Know-Who." Everybody's jaws automatically go slack. "And I overheard Hermione say that You-Know-Who was obsessed with Hogwarts. Something about this place being home."

Lavender snorts. "That snake doesn't call places home."

Luna's lips twitch at the Gryffindor's frankness, but seeing what she has at Malfoy Manor, she has to agree. Whatever humanity You-Know-Who possessed is long gone. But she wouldn't be surprised if once, all too long ago, Lord Voldemort did consider Hogwarts to be home. The castle has been a safe place for so many lost souls over time, and it's not too far a stretch to imagine the evil man—Tom Riddle is his name, Harry told her so—starting out as one of them. After all, all of the darkest tales begin with the saddest origins.

The room alights with whispers of "Harry's coming," and "do you think it's true?" as people start to buzz with excitement over this new, thrilling development.

Neville, beside her, looks like he is in shock. Sitting down gracelessly by her side, he stares down at the carpeted floor with steepling hands, deep in thought. "Harry's coming home?" he asks softly to the carpet, and Luna doesn't know whether the question is meant for her or himself.

"It seems like it," she murmurs, reaching out to take his hand properly. "If he is, we'll be ready to welcome him."

Neville nods, then nods again, with more determination this time. When he looks back up, there is fire in his eyes. Luna pulls his hand into her lap and sits back, knowing that her job is done. When Harry does come home—because there is no doubt in her mind that he will—Neville will have everything taken care of. She can tell just by looking at him.

"Right," he says, his voice thrumming with command, "If Harry's going to come back—" He looks at her for confirmation, and she nods encouragingly, "—we're going to be ready for him. That means we're going to need more numbers. From this moment on, we have three missions: to train, to recruit, and to train our recruits. Secrecy is going to be our top priority. No more open rebellion. We don't want more Death Eaters coming to Hogwarts to subdue us. Are we clear?"

Everyone nods back reflexively, all too caught up listening to Neville's instructions. Luna wonders if Neville even notices the way they all look at him.

"We're going to have to find a way to get Harry passage into Hogwarts without it being pre-planned," he continues, thinking as he talks. "I'm going to talk to the kitchen elves about it, see if they have any suggestions. No one knows Hogwarts better than the house elves."

Seamus' head snaps up. "We could put the RoR to use," he suggests, his face serious. "The room has created a passage within Hogwarts for us to use, so surely it can create one that leads outside as well? We just have to need it badly enough."

"That's a good idea," Neville nods approvingly. "Seamus, Dean. Look into it. Figure out a way for us to get Harry, Ron and Hermione in here. We might need someone on the outside to guide them in, so if we do, make sure they are trustworthy."

Seamus and Dean glance at each other and nod eagerly.

"Luna, Hannah, Parvati, Padma. I want you to make a list of all of Hogwarts' Muggleborns currently on the run. Anyone who's recently graduated should go on the list as well. You're going to get them all into Hogwarts the same way we got in Luna and Dean. They will be safe here, and we can add to our numbers if any of the older ones want to fight with us. We'll tie up with the Order to work with us on the outside. Fred and George got us a way to get in touch with them."

Hannah's eyes dart quickly to Luna, looking hopeful. Luna gives her a pleasant look, and shares a glance with Padma, her fellow Ravenclaw. Padma gives her a familiar, friendly smile, and it makes Luna feel needed. They will work well together, she thinks.

"Lavender, you and I will handle the training. I want you to lead the current DA, and I will train the newer recruits myself. We'll work together."

Lavender nods stoically, pride shining in her eyes. Neville softens his commanding stance to smile at her.

"I'll give out new assignments to everyone as we come up with more plans. For now, this is what I want you to work with. To the ones I have already given assignments to, feel free to request assistance from any other DA members if you require it. I want none of you to forget our priority—all of this stays secret. Try not to be caught, but if you do get caught, I want you to immediately find a way to make it here to headquarters. You will be safe here."

Neville's eyes roam around through the group, settling on each member's face one by one to make his point clear. They all stare back with chins raised and eyes set, and Luna knows that no matter their differences, this group will work together when it comes down to it.

"Remember what we're doing this for. When Harry comes, we will be ready. But we're not just fighting for Harry. We're fighting for ourselves, for each other, to protect Hogwarts and the future of wizarding Britain. We're fighting for our future. When the time comes, we will be ready. And we will defend Hogwarts with our lives if need be. I want you to never, ever forget what we're fighting for. Do you all understand me?"

The room fills with tense silence as everybody accepts the gravity of what they're signing up for. A fight to the death, if that's what it takes. It's a lot to give, but as Luna tells herself while she looks around at everybody, haven't these people already given so much?

"We'll have each other's back," she says, her voice soft and sure. It gets the attention of some of the group, and they tear their eyes away from Neville to look at her. "If we fight with our lives, it's because we're fighting to have each other's back." More eyes settle on her. "It feels like a nicer perspective to have, wouldn't you say?"

Seamus is the first to respond. His wide mouth is turned up in a sideways smile, and he's looking at her with untempered affection, something she hasn't been regarded with for a long time.

"I missed you, Luna." She blinks, processing his words, and feels her lips stretch into a sunny smile. "And you're right," he adds, grinning, "That is a nicer perspective to have."

Neville glances at her with fondness of his own, and smiles when he tells her, "I think we're going to do alright."

She nods, still smiling, and knows when she looks around at the group gathered within the safe walls of this room that she isn't wrong in thinking that they're going to be quite alright at all of this.

Lavender is tenacious, Hannah is level-headed, Parvati is pragmatic, Padma is ruthless. Dean and Seamus are stronger when they know each other is safe. Ernie is diligent, Susan is thorough. Nigel is underestimated. Michael is intelligent. Even Cormac, as hesitant as Luna is of him, is loyal.

And Neville… Neville is everything they need as their leader. Luna would have no one else in his place.

Seeing the flickers of resolve shining through everyone, Luna knows deep in her soul that they are all going to be just fine.

Their future is in good hands.