Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness

Chapter 11: The Room of Hidden Things

To Neville's great relief, the rest of the Christmas holiday passed far less eventfully than the first few days. The Weasleys allowed the Creevey brothers to move into the twins' old room, while Ernie and Susan spent the holiday with her family, and Hannah, to his delight, asked if she could stay at Willow Creek with Neville and his Gran. Permission was given gladly, as the Abbotts were an old and popular wizarding family, and she and Gran spent a great deal of time discussing mutual acquaintances, but there were still blissfully endless hours for the two of them alone.

He showed her the hothouse his grandfather had built and he had restored, and she showed not a moment's hesitation in turning up her sleeves and digging into the rich soil of the pots and seedling beds. With her help, he was able to completely transplant all of the Cringing Chrysanthemums without losing a single one to nerves, and when they finally finished, it was four in the morning, and they were both exhausted and smeared with mud, but they were also both laughing, and she was more beautiful then—with bits of compost in her hair and mulch on her robes—than he had ever seen her before. What they shared in the early hours of that morning, Neville knew, would be something that would stay with him through whatever darkness lay ahead.

When he finally kissed her good-bye at King's Cross Station before they crossed onto Platform 9 3⁄4, he found that he was looking forward to returning to Hogwarts and his friends in the D.A. The few weeks break had made the whole thing seem far less intimidating, and he had discovered himself actually planning out missions and meetings in his head when his mind was not occupied with thoughts of Hannah's sweet smile and the feel of her soft lips on his.

The magical platform was strangely solemn, the usual excited chaos subdued into hushed good-byes under the silent gaze of the Death Eaters. Students were staring at the cars in pale-faced apprehension as they were shepherded into four straight lines, but here and there he caught the eye of D.A. members among the crowd, and the defiant smiles that passed between them were like sparks of light in the gathering gloom.

Ahead of him in the Gryffindor queue, Ginny's bright red hair was impossible to miss as she stood behind Colin, whose right hand still hung unnaturally stiffly at his side, his left laced protectively through his younger brother's. Dennis seemed oddly detached from it all, staring blankly into space, and Neville frowned, making a mental note to take a moment after they had reached the school to talk privately with the young wizard.

Then a murmur rippled through the crowd, hushed and fearful, and he turned, feeling every pair of eyes following his to where a tall, slender figure in lavish robes of ebony silk had strode onto the platform, flanked by a veritable entourage of four shiningly masked Death Eaters. The hooded head turned as he passed, and Neville gasped as he recognized the pale, pointed features of Draco Malfoy. Gray eyes locked with brown for a split second, and the flare of hate there took his breath away.

With regal disdain, Draco glided the length of the train, passing coolly by his fellow Slytherins to watch as his trunk was loaded for him onto the Staff Car. He shook hands with the Carrows with stiff formality, then leaned in, and Neville felt a swift chill run up his spine as he saw the other youth nod directly towards him, and Alecto's pallid face twisted in distaste as she vigorously nodded her reply to whatever he had said to her.

Ginny turned, her brow creased with worry as she gave a tiny nod of her head towards the newcomer. I know, he mouthed back silently. Do you think—he stopped. Her eyes had widened in alarm, and her vivid hair whipped sharply as she turned quickly to face the front of the queue again. Looking in the direction her eyes had flicked, he froze. Malfoy had peeled away from his escort, and was crossing the platform directly towards him, his thin lips twisted in a familiar sneer.

"Longbottom..." The slow drawl was deeper than he remembered, and he realized that he and Malfoy had not spoken to one another since Umbridge's office almost two years previously. They had both grown into young men since, and he drew back his shoulders, meeting the cold eyes without flinching.