Warm But Tainted Blood (Drarry)

chapter ten

There were six Quidditch matches a year (Gryffindor/Slytherin, Gryffindor/Ravenclaw, Gryffindor/Hufflepuff,
Slytherin/Ravenclaw,
Slytherin/Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw), and a match occurred in every month except September, October, January, and June. It was the evening of November's match that Harry Potter had a very interesting conversation with one Neville Longbottom.

He was sitting in the stands cheering on his best friends, Fred and George, when Neville sits next to him. He is very clearly repressing anger. "Ello, Harry," he greets. There is an underlying bite to his words.

"Neville," Harry tilts his head. He grips his wand tightly in his pocket. "What's up?"

Neville has never been one to get straight to the point, so it is mildly surprising when he does: "Did you know there was a prophecy about you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. He noted Neville was not stuttering. Odd. "No, I didn't."

"It involved you and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named," said Neville, "Depicting that you would hold a power he knows not. I suppose that's how you vanquished him as just a baby."

"I suppose," Harry says, watching the pudgy boy out of the corner of his eye. He no longer seemed almost cute, like he had thought before. The scent of citrus stung his nose. "Why are you telling me this, Longbottom?"

"It could've been me."

"What now?"

"The prophecy," he spat, sounding so unlike himself, so unlike the bumbling boy who could hardly form a sentence half the time, "It could've applied to me— I could've vanquished the Dark Lord and– and–"

"Became famous and an orphan?" Harry laughed dryly and without humor. He'd give anything to not be the boy who lived, and here Neville was being envious of it? Ridiculous, borderline delusional. "Consider yourself lucky, bitch. Who told you about this prophecy?"

"I can't remember," said Neville. He was always a forgetful boy so Harry thought nothing much of this. Perhaps that was a mistake, but who's to say? Neville's memory was terrible as it was, so it was no surprise he did not recognize the effects of an oblivate when he felt one.

"Why did you feel the need to tell me this, Longbottom?"

Neville huffed. "I thought you'd like to know."

"Alright." Harry said, not believing him in the slightest. "You seem angry at me, Longbottom."

"Do I?" he muttered, ignoring the accusation (which is an admittance in it of itself). "I'll be off, Potter."

Potter. Longbottom. Harry realized then that the two boys no longer considered themselves friends. On a last name basis now, are they? Harry sighed. He didn't know what he did wrong this time. He filed Longbottom on the same level of Ron, making plans to avoid him, too. It was alright. He had Hermione, Fred and George. He didn't need Neville.

Harry turned his attention away from the prophecy and jealous ex-friend and toward the Quidditch match in front of them. Fred hit the Buldger toward the Slytherin seeker. It hit their chest head on.

Harry cheered.

That night Harry had a nightmare. Now, this is not an unusual occurence, because most nights he has a nightmare, but this time he dreamt of Neville and Dudley, which was new. Dudley was threatening Harry to do his homework, because Harry always did have much better grades than him, and then Neville was sneering at him because Harry was famous and Neville wasn't. They were so alike one another that it was difficult to tell at times which was which. Harry awoke drenched in sweat after only an hour.

Determined not to go back to sleep, back to whatever new horror awaited him, Harry jumped out of bed and pulled on his invisibility cloak. Ignoring the off smell, the smell of someone other than him, Harry exited his dorm, then his common room. He looked back at the portrait of the Fat Lady, and wondered where he should spend his night.

His feet were moving before he told them to and soon he found himself standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the anti-dragon wards ended, and staring into the eyes of several scaled beasts. He sat down on the grass.

"What's so special about you?" he muttered to no one. "Why are you so intent on attacking us? Where are you coming from?"

He received no answer. He spent the rest of the night sitting in the grass, watching the dragons for a hint or a clue and finding none.

∆¶∆

Ron would later claim he didn't know when his friendship with Neville Longbottom started, but it would always be a lie. When word got around that Ron had insulted the one and only Harry Potter, then fought him, and dissolved their friendship entirely, Neville flocked to him. They bonded over their dislike (and not so small unspoken of jealousy) of Harry Potter and Quidditch.

It was a realization to no one that anyone who had befriended Neville Longbottom ever magically disappeared from Hogwarts.

It was deep into November, almost December, that there was talk of shutting down the school until the Dragon Epidemic was figured out and the mysterious disappearances of Hogwarts students and staff stopped. This idea, however, was shut down rather quickly. The second someone stepped outside the wards surrounding Hogwarts, dragons would ambush them. There would be no way to get all the occupants of Hogwarts out of the grounds and onto the train without someone dying. One could only hope that the entire situation would be resolved before the end of the school year.

There was plenty of time to do so, after all.

There were a few reported people of the Ministry who blamed Dumbledore for the disappearances of students.

"Look," one lady said, "no one can pass through the wards EXCEPT if the person who made them LET them through. Dumbledore made the fucking wards."

But this notion was quickly dismissed. Dumbledore's reputation shone through all suspicion, and the concept of the wards only being passable by their creator's permission was all but forgetten by the end of the year.