The Light in the Dark | Neville Longbottom

Chapter 100: Reunions

*CW: Violence*

May 1st, 1998

It was ten o'clock in the morning. Gringotts Bank had opened an hour ago. From the window, I watched Harry and Ron gather upon the same hill they buried Dobby on almost a month ago. Hermione was in the loo polyjuicing herself to look like Bellatrix Lestrange, my own mother, because Harry had disarmed both her and Draco at the manor, and now had both of their wands in his possession. Of course, the trio had no idea that I knew this information — it wasn't difficult to put all the puzzle pieces together with the number of times that I had walked in on them talking about it. They also didn't know that I was awake and watching them right now.

"This is the daftest idea I've seen in a while." I scoffed as Hermione left the loo.

Hermione inhaled sharply, "Nobody asked for your opinion."

Caught off-guard by the sudden change of her voice, I whipped around to face her. I almost jumped back in shock. Not only did Hermione sound like my mother, but she looked exactly how I most remembered her — from those two weeks in the manor. Like Bellatrix did during those two weeks, Hermione resented me, so the dirty look she gave me triggered something in my mind.

"For fuck's sake..." I panicked, "You can't just walk around pissed at everything when you look like her..."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Go back to bed, Dawn."

"I thought to offer my aid and knowledge one last time before you lot leave," I shrugged, "You know you're better off fighting with me in these circumstances than without."

"Absolutely not." Hermione said coldly.

"You lot would've never found Slytherin's locket if it wasn't for me," I protested, crossing my arms, "I was the one who took action and broke into the Ministry. I was the one that created the map for you fools to use. I was the one that distracted Umbridge and Yaxley long enough for you lot to escape-"

"Because you're a deatheater," Hermione spat, cutting me off, "Because the radio continuously refers to you as your father's number one. Of course, they're going to listen to you... because you're a traitor to the order."

I inhaled sharply, "And don't you think having You-Know-Who's number one by your side while breaking into the most protected place on this planet makes your chances of success slightly less slim?"

Hermione hesitated for a response. Unlike Ron or Harry, getting through to Hermione was more likely. For Merlin's sake, she was my best friend... I told her everything. Even though she resented me, I still trusted her with my life. I acknowledged my mistakes many times, and it wasn't like I actually went through with my father's original mission. But Hermione was also incredibly stubborn, so my chances of a positive response were extremely unlikely.

Hermione shook her head, "No. No, I'd rather walk in there with people I trust than someone who could turn on us in a blink."

I raised an eyebrow, "You really trust the goblin more than me? What makes you lot think that he won't turn on you the moment you give him that sword? Oh yeah... Don't think I didn't overhear that part of the plan too!"

Of course, Hermione didn't hear the last part of my sentence as she had stormed out of Shell Cottage. I did my best to shout it, so she would hear, but I also didn't want to wake Dean and Luna, who were sleeping in the living room.

I sighed deeply, watching the three from the window again. Harry and Ron nearly fell backwards when Hermione approached them — she really ought to smile, so we knew it was her. Then I watched Hermione hand the boys a change of clothes to get their disguises ready. Every now-and-then, the three looked towards the cottage, and I could only assume that Hermione was telling them what I had said. Whatever... it didn't matter anymore, did it? They were practically dead without my help, which put a halt to my own endeavors, but at least a few of my questions had been answered last night.