The Light in the Dark | Neville Longbottom

Chapter 99: Luna's Letters

April 30th, 1998

It's been roughly a month since I escaped my life as a deatheater. To an extent, my physical and mental health has improved tremendously. The hallucinations and voices stopped, which showed that I was healing. And even though I spent a lot of time by myself, I was happy.

At first, I spent my time researching how to get rid of Voldemort's dark mark. Being aurors and having previously worked at Gringotts, Bill and Fleur had many books regarding dark magic, so I was hopeful for an answer. I tried all sorts of enchantments and even this particular brew that smelled like moldy eggs, but nothing worked. Eventually, I gave up. Everyone already knew what I was anyway. What was the point of making the dark mark disappear when my history couldn't?

And once I realized that, I adjusted my priorities and focused on enhancing my wandless magic. As much as I hated to admit it, the magic grew immensely more powerful during my time as a deatheater. All I had to do was cock my head or point a measly finger at a person to end their life — not even my own father was capable of that power. Of course, I was underneath some sort of robotic trance then, so recreating those powers with the emotions I regained was difficult. But with the help of some of Bill's books and an open beach... I did to some extent.

I wasn't killing people, per se, but my control was much better. I could lift boulders and not quiver due to its weight. I could apparate much smoother — kind of like Hermione, just without a wand. And overall, everything just seemed stronger. Simple charms, like the levitation charm, seemed to work quicker and faster. It was extremely convenient, especially when it came to cooking meals with Fleur and I had to set the table. One flick of the finger, and it was done a few seconds later.

I still visited Dobby's grave on a daily basis. The area was calming and allowed me to do much of my thinking. Sometimes I read out there, some days I meditated, and other days I sat out there, admiring the waves and sand. It was also a great place to get away from... them.

All three of them were still pissed at me.

Rightfully so though.

They never said it aloud, but the dirty looks I received were enough to let me know. Ron and Hermione were the most "verbal" about it though. Apart from that one night that we briefly talked to each other about Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the elder wand, Harry never acknowledged me. But honestly, it never bothered me because I didn't have the energy nor desire to confront them anyway.

However, there was one time I talked to all three of them. It was about three weeks ago, and I had accidentally stumbled upon a conversation they were having in the kitchen. This conversation was supposed to be held in secret, but common sense with the golden trio was never really that common — they could've had the conversation in their bedroom. But anyway... it did happen, and I overheard it.

⏃ ⚯͛ ➒¾

"What days are we thinking then?" Ron asked.

"Preferably before the end of the month," Harry shrugged, "It's been too long, and we know where this one is... We must try again."

"But it's Gringotts," Hermione protested, "And it's Bellatrix Lestrange's vault! You heard what Griphook said about the beast-"

"'Mione, we've been planning this for too damn long," Harry said coldly, "Every day that we're not doing something, is another day You-Know-Who is getting stronger."

I walked into the kitchen, "He's got a point, you know."

Slowly, the three of them looked at me, each with a different dirty look plastered across their face. I knew that I shouldn't have interrupted their conversation, but either way I had to enter the kitchen... I was starving. Apart from the rummaging I did through the fridge, the kitchen-area was silent.