The Light in the Dark | Neville Longbottom

Chapter 109: Neville's Speech

*CW: Extreme Violence*

"STUPID GIRL..." Voldemort shouted, "HARRY POTTER IS DEAD. FROM THIS DAY FORTH, YOU PUT YOUR FAITH IN ME!"

More quiet sobs emerged from the crowd standing behind me. Although, I couldn't help but ignore their cries. My eyes stayed fixed onto Harry's body swaying in Hagrid's arms, and the tiny breath of oxygen he took in every few seconds. Harry Potter, the sociopathic murderer, was still alive, yet hundreds of wizards mourned him.

I knew that none of them were aware of the truth. Nobody was present in the Headmaster's Office to observe what happened or hear what he admitted. Even Neville, who believed me at my lowest, thought that idea of Harry being a menacing git was bizarre. My word meant nothing against his legacy. Part of me thought to just let it go and live the rest of my life to its fullest advantage. I mean... I was filthy rich. After the war, I could've just bagged up all of my belongings and wealth and escaped this wretched country. But the other part of me knew that Harry wasn't going to let me live peacefully.

He'd try to kill me again, or he'd convince someone else to do the job for him.

Either way... I wasn't making it out of this situation alive.

So, I needed proof. Proof that Harry wasn't the person he, Dumbledore, the order, and just about everyone else thought he was. Incriminating proof so that he'd get his justice and I'd get mine... Then, I'd finally be free.

"HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!" Voldemort shouted once again.

The deatheaters broke into an obnoxious, yet cheerful, laughter. Many were jumping up-and-down at the fact that this seventeen-year-old had supposedly dropped dead. Honestly, I wished that I could've joined them, given what just happened to me.

"NOW IS THE TIME TO COME FORTH AND DECLARE YOURSELVES!" Voldemort announced, "I WELCOME YOU ALL TO JOIN US... OR DIE."

Again, I was so hyper-fixated on Harry that I didn't even realize that Neville had wrapped his hand in mine, squeezing it rather harshly. Even though my initial reaction was to yank my hand away disgustedly because he didn't believe me about Harry, I didn't because Neville needed the comfort of someone he loved and that he knew loved him back. Honestly, I probably did too. Neville was all I had left at this point.

I broke my contact from Harry, shifting it to the crowd of deatheaters in the distance. My eyes locked onto a woman wearing a black robe with dark matted hair: my mother. She looked at me sinisterly. It was the type of look that haunted me at night; the reason she terrified me in my youth. A couple of months ago, Bellatrix showed me mercy, often being more frightened by me than vice versa. But that was when I was my father's personal assassin. I didn't scare her anymore. Honestly, I probably never did because the only thing that really scared her was Voldemort. But now that he was no longer protecting me, I was free-range.

However, unlike a year ago, where my body often froze up and my lungs collapsed in on themselves when this happened, I felt no fear. I was no longer scared of Bellatrix Lestrange nor Voldemort because I had worse things to be frightened of.

"Draco..." someone in the crowd of deatheaters muttered.

Collectively, everyone turned their head towards the blonde-haired boy standing in the back corner next to some of the other Slytherins. Most of the Slytherins didn't partake in the war, but the ones that did were very evenly split between the sides of good and evil. I think most would've agreed that Draco didn't belong on the side that he was standing on, especially after he accidentally killed Fred and purposely tried to murder me, but it still didn't negate the fact that he hesitated to join his family.