"I can't say that? Hah—just like you and your little…."
Malfoy paused; he still didn't dare say the names that came next. Lately he found his godfather Snape's moods increasingly hard to read—but that didn't stop him from mocking the Gryffindor coward before him.
"Help me test a spell, Longbottom! Locomotor Mortis! (Leg-Locker!)"
Malfoy's wand flicked. Neville's eyes went wide; his legs snapped tightly together, and with a thud he toppled to the floor.
Malfoy's mouth curled in a cold smile. He raised his brows at the two behind him; Goyle and Crabbe burst out laughing.
The corridor was dim. In the next room, a black cat that had been squeezing its head through the door crack jerked it back.
It cocked its head, whiskers quivering, and fixed on the corridor.
When the black cat looked up, it met the eyes of a tabby whose whiskers were trembling too; in those eyes flickered a human, suppressed anger. Without changing her expression, she slipped out the door ahead of Sean.
The clash in the corridor wasn't over. Neville shakily snatched up his wand:
"Finite! (Counter-Spell!)"
He cast by reflex and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, the Leg-Locker Curse was gone.
I…I think I can—just like Sean said….
He stared at his wand, lips lifting for a heartbeat, then braced himself against the wall and stood.
Only to see a livid Malfoy charging in with Crabbe and Goyle.
"Grab his hands!"
Neville heard Malfoy shout.
The two bearing down on him made him freeze. But in the blank white of his mind flashed Justin's words—the ones he'd said in the yard when he saw Neville, Ron, and the Slytherins brawl:
"Nice going, Neville. My father says—when it comes to people without morals or character, a fist works very well."
When Goyle grabbed Neville's left arm, Neville—knowing what was coming—drove a fist straight into Crabbe's face.
"AAH—!"
Crabbe had plainly not expected Neville to hit back; he let out a strangled cry and went down.
Neville stared at his fist, unable to believe what he'd done.
"S-sorry…"
He blurted an apology, shivering.
"Hold him down—teach him a lesson!"
Malfoy's roar echoed.
There was a commotion at the end of the corridor; two black shadows flashed by.
By the time the black cat reached the corner, Malfoy and his two were crowding Neville into a corner, leering as they raised wands at him and muttered hexes.
The black cat's inky fur puffed without permission; the thin white tips of his ears flattened back and vanished.
The tabby saw and froze for a beat—was this the first time the boy had ever fluffed up?
Ahead, Neville had nowhere left to retreat.
"All right, I only meant to test a spell on you, but now you'll help me a little more!"
Malfoy drew his wand:
"Rictusempra! (Tickling Charm!)"
"Finite! (Counter-Spell!)"
Neville's hand moved faster than his head; he fired the Counter-Spell that Sean had drilled into him—and to his shock, it worked beautifully.
But in a heartbeat he knew he was done for—if he resisted, Malfoy would only get angrier—Merlin, he was dead!
Sure enough, a voice rose, tight with rage:
"You want to duel me, Longbottom?! Then come on!"
Malfoy seemed beyond furious; he peppered Neville with minor jinxes. Neville, reacting fast, cancelled most of them with Finite.
He hadn't time to feel secretly pleased before Crabbe and Goyle piled on and, in a blink, knocked his wand free.
The corridor lost the flash of spells and fell into gloom.
Neville stared at his new wand on the floor. He felt the swallow in his throat take a hundred times longer than usual; his body went rigid; his heart hammered, and the courage that had burned in him fell away with the wand.
Silence held for several seconds. Then Malfoy snorted:
"Locomotor Mortis! (Leg-Locker!)"
Neville's legs snapped together; he sagged against the wall.
"I see you only learned one spell from that Sean Green. You should see your face—a big oaf, a coward."
He laughed out loud.
"I'm not a coward…"
Hemmed in by the three, Neville watched helplessly as they toyed with his wand—his new wand—in their hands.
He felt certain the tears were spilling—how else could his beloved wand blur like that?
"I'm not a coward…"
He murmured it, but his body gave him no strength.
"You're a coward through and through!"
Someone shouted.
"I'm not a coward…"
His voice dwindled. He thought of the Hope Nook—the looks of expectation and encouragement….
Sean, who had said more in one day than he did in a week….
His heart wasn't stone—how could he feel nothing?
"Neville—there's only one kind of hero in this world: the one who fears and overcomes fear.
Neville Longbottom—you're no worse than anyone."
He heard the words; when he lifted his head, he saw a black cat—a streak of lightning—flying toward him.
That's…Sean?
In his moment of weakness, the first name in his mind was his.
"…Sean says I'm no worse than anyone…"
A wand—a sleek wand with a sharp, clean line—sprang from his belt.
Neville gripped it. Under the astonished looks of Malfoy and the others, he bellowed:
"Flipendo! (Knockback Jinx!)"
"AAH—!!"
Goyle screamed, shot high into the air, and crashed down hard.
The terrified Crabbe lunged to grab Neville—only to find a fist swelling to fill his vision.
"AAH—!!"
He went down too.
Neville could hardly believe what he'd done. He looked at his fist—was it truly that strong?
Then at the wand that had sprung open—he thought for sure the tears were back again.
Malfoy stood trembling on the flagstones; Crabbe and Goyle lay strewn across the floor.
Neville's sudden explosion had stilled Sean's claws; he quietly shifted back in the shadows, and saw Professor McGonagall, likewise restored, give a small nod.
In the corridor, Neville picked up his new wand and slipped his father's wand back at his waist.
Then, trembling, he left.
From the corner, Sean watched that wand and knew: a dead, silent wand had been given life—by a father.
~~~
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