Published at 27th of May 2024 12:14 am

Chapter 212: A War of Words

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1 May 1994, Unknown Place

Before he could say anything, Warrington sent him flying back towards the trophy. The moment he touched him, Neville felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel and the maze disappeared from his sight.

Neville woke up with a headache. With his eyes still closed, he tried to grab his head in a vain hope to relieving the pressure, only for his arms to meet some unexpected resistance. From the faint clinking, he was chained.

Wait a minute, why were his hands chained? He suddenly tried to get up, only to be weighed down once more. As Neville's senses began to sharpen, the cold, damp air filled his lungs, bringing him fully to consciousness. The stone floor beneath him was unforgiving, its chill seeping through his robes and into his bones. His heart began to race as panic set in; this was not the familiar comfort of Hogwarts. He was in some kind of cell.

Opening his eyes, Neville's vision adjusted to the dim light, revealing the stark, barren walls of his prison. The minimal light that filtered into the cell seemed to struggle against the oppressive darkness, casting long shadows across the room. His attempts to move revealed the harsh metal of manacles around his wrists, chaining him to the wall. A small, barred window high up on one wall offered the only glimpse of the outside world, though it revealed nothing but a sliver of grey sky.

As he tried to gather his thoughts, a movement caught his attention. Across from him, barely illuminated by the weak light, was another figure. The man was a pitiful sight; his robes were tattered and filthy, hanging loosely on his emaciated frame. His face was gaunt, with hollow cheeks and skin stretched tight over his bones. The man's grey eyes, though dulled by hardship, flickered with a faint recognition as they met Neville's. There was something eerily familiar about him, a connection Neville couldn't quite place. Memories of a photograph shown to him by his grandmother surfaced, but the name escaped him, lost in the fog of his disoriented mind.

His mouth moved before he could even properly think about it, "Who are you?"

The man giggled desperately, "You have just been kidnapped, taken into a cell in a mysterious place without your wand and your first reflex is to ask me who I am?"

"You seem familiar…"

"I suppose I could be. I'm assuming you're the infamous Neville Longbottom. Even after years in this place, isolated from the world, I do know who you are."

Neville felt uncomfortable at the realization, "You've been here for years?"

"I'm assuming it is. A few of the guards are kind enough to tell me the date. The others often lie about it like it's some kind of joke. I've been here for over a decade. I think I was taken a few days after your parents died. You look like them, you know. You practically have Alice's face, but the hair and eyes are all Frank."

"Who are you?" the younger wizard asked frustrated.

"My name is Sirius Black. I fought against Death Eaters alongside your parents."

Neville's eyes widened in shock, "I know you. You're supposed to be dead. You died in the fire of Godric Hollows."

"By Merlin, I wish it was. It beats being here. Now that I have you, I have to ask, did they get her, in the end. No one really gave me an answer."

"Get who?"

The sound that left Black's throat was more akin to a growl than a word, "Lily!"

"You mean Lily Potter? She died in the fire alongside her husband. How can you not know that?"

"What about Wormtail?"

"Who?" Neville asked.

"Peter Pettigrew. It was just a nickname we gave him."

"Dead too, in the fire. They had a plaque for him and everything."

Black snorted, "A plaque, for what? Being a coward and a traitor?"

Neville didn't understand what Black was alluding to. The events of the Fire of Godric's Hollows were shrouded in mystery. There were no survivors to tell the tale except for Harry, who was one year old at the time. Black was possibly the only person who knew what had happened that day. It probably wasn't a good idea to ask him, though; that night had to be especially traumatic for him.

In the end, his curiosity won out, "What happened that night?"

The Black scion had a far look on his face, "I was hanging out with the Potters, playing with baby Harry, my godson. Lily was in her workshop, like always, leaving me and James to take care of him. James felt one of the proximity wards activate. We realized then that Peter betrayed us. We were literally attacked by a small army. There had to be over fifty death eaters, who came under the leadership of the Lestranges – Rodolphus and Rabastan, my cousin Bellatrix, and Barty Crouch Junior. We had thought that we were safe, with Voldemort gone a few days prior, and we let our guards down. Our location was breached, the Fidelius Charm having been rendered useless by Peter's betrayal. We fought like hell, but there were only three of us and we had a baby to protect. James and I killed Rabastan. Lily eradicated a quarter of the attacking forces by herself. But it still wasn't enough. We were losing."

Neville was enraptured by the story, "How did you win?"

"What do you mean, win? Of course, we didn't win. We were outnumbered, outmatched, and taken by surprise. Lily seemed to realize this and asked us for some time. We assumed that she had a plan, but she just took out baby Harry and used some of her blood to draw runes on him. I thought she was doing something to keep him safe. I wasn't exactly wrong, but not in the way I thought. She then stabbed James in the chest from behind, and that's when the fire started. There was no stopping him. I turned into a dog and ran as fast as I could. I escaped, but when I looked back, I saw nothing but a ruin. Lily destroyed an entire village, killing thousands of people, muggles and mages alike, just to save her son. The only survivors were me and Wormtail, I think. He had turned into a rat and ran away too. I was taken minutes after the fire settled down. The Aurors weren't even there anymore."

"Holy shit!" the words came out of Neville's mouth without him even realizing. Still, there were no better words to describe the situation. He had grown up hearing about the tragedy of Godric's Hollows and how many lives were lost. But to think that all of this devastation was just for Harry's sake. It was mind-boggling. It was fucking insane.

He must have said this out loud since the Black scion barked out a laugh, "You're right, that's fucking insane. Thousands of lives for one. I assumed Lily had survived, being the castor and all, but it seems that I was wrong. And you know the worst thing, from what I heard from the guards, Harry is spitting on their sacrifice."

"How? He's a brilliant student. He's powerful, smart, pretty nice and understanding. Sure, he's a bit arrogant, but I've spent enough time with him to say that he isn't a bad guy."

His cellmate burst into laughter, "Seriously? You, of all people, saying that Harry is a good guy. Especially after he has caused you so much grief."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I don't know for sure, but whoever built this place has a very vast information network. I don't know if Harry is working with them or not, but I heard the guards joking around saying that the Potter brat has gotten one over you by convincing everyone, even you that you were insane."

Neville froze, "What do you mean insane? Are you talking about the chamber? Because I was just a victim of an illusion."

"Nah, there was no illusion. Basilisk parts started being sold all over the continent in the past year. One of the guards even bought a fang of all things. You really did kill a Basilisk, kid. The brat just convinced you that you were under an illusion to get rich over your own work. He didn't care about your reputation, just more gold."

Black's story was making a surprising amount of sense. Neville knew that he wasn't insane and according to his grandmother, the Potter vault in Gringotts was getting fuller every day. The Goblins wouldn't really care about the legality of the trading of forbidden goods. Harry could have very well been getting rich by selling the Basilisk Neville slayed.

No! Harry wouldn't do that to him. He wouldn't have done something so cruel to him just for some gold, "You're lying!"

"Kid, I'm just repeating what I've heard. What possible reason would I have to lie? We're both stuck here and that won't change for a very long time."

That seemed to have stunned Neville completely. Black was right. Lying to him didn't achieve anything. He could understand Warrington's motivation, since according to him, whoever kept Neville captive also had his sister. But could Harry have been working for their mysterious jailer as well? Or perhaps, the more important question, the one that mattered the most, was if Harry had done this to him willingly or not.

Or perhaps Black was mistaken. All of this was just a lie from the guards who tried to hurt him by saying hurtful things against his best friend's son. However, for all he tried to ignore it, Neville couldn't help but believe that Black words held a nugget of truth. Maybe it was because it would be easy to have someone to blame his troubles on.

But he couldn't do anything while still remaining in this cell, "We need to get out of here."

"Don't bother. Don't you think I would have been out of here if there was a way? How I wish I could escape and kick Snivellius in the teeth."

"Snivellius?"

The Black scion snorted, "Ah, that's a nickname we gave for Severus Snape. He's your teacher, right? How anyone would think that putting him near children is in any way a good idea, I don't know."

Severus Snape was a git, there was no doubt about it. He was antisocial, and intimidating, and showed a lot of favouritism towards Slytherins and animosity towards Gryffindors. He never smiled and hated Lupin with a passion for some reason. A few people theorized that it was because he wanted to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but they didn't think about killing him.

He was strict and knew how to make his words hurt without even trying. But at the end of the day, the man knew his stuff and had no problems teaching it. He wasn't the best Professor he had ever had, but he also wasn't the worst, which was pretty sad for the school now that he thought about it, "He's not that bad."

"You're joking, right? You're seriously defending that man…"

"What's the problem with that?"

Sirius' face turned into an ugly sneer, "Severus Snape is the whole reason your parents died. He was a Death Eater then; he heard a prophecy telling him that either you or Harry would have been able to destroy Voldemort. Like a good little monster, he went to his master, happy for the proof. He's the reason why Voldemort even attacked your family, the reason why the Lestranges attacked Godric's Hollow. And after all of this, Dumbledore forgave him and protected him from prosecution. I can't kill Lily and I don't know where Peter is, but if I ever get out of here, I'm going after him first."

That little rant froze Neville's thoughts entirely. He has spent hours in a room with the man that had cursed him with the life of an orphan, who had ruined his chances at a normal life. He learned from the man who had indirectly cost him his parents.

It was hard to control the rage that he felt, the burning inferno of anger that threatened to let things go. Countless betrayals and stifled emotions just kept piling on and on, until he had enough. No more. He didn't know why he was silent, trying to stop himself from screaming in anger.

He hadn't even calmed down when Black spoke up, "You know, I have an idea. You came with a Portkey, right?"

Neville just grunted in response, not trusting his voice. The older man smiled mischievously, "Well, did you know that all Portkeys are two-way ones? One-way portkeys just don't activate the second part. You could theoretically reactivate this, and it would go through all the wards since it had to be included to get you here."

"Where is it?"

"I think they keep everything in the basement somewhere. We have a few hours until the magic fades on the portkey. This is the best chance we'll ever get…"

Neville hummed, "What do you need?"

"I need some time to refine whatever Wandless magic I taught myself while I'm here. Once we're out of the cell, we'll need to knock out a few guards to get wands. Then we'll need to sneak to the Basement and get to the Portkey."

"Seems a little too simple. We could get caught."

The older man barked a laugh, "What's the worst that could happen? They'll just take us back to our cell. Now, I just need to focus on my wandless magic. It's the only thing I can see going wrong with the plan. It all hinges on if it's going to work."

Maybe it was because of the rage he felt or how scared he was from getting a cell, but Neville broke the promise he made to his grandmother. He actively sought out the knowledge in his scar through the corpse of the family crest that he once had. The scar answered quickly like an eager puppy and Neville felt his knowledge of basic wandless unlocking charms grow.

With a clink, his chains fell, and Neville looked at his free hands with glee and relished the astonished expression on his cellmate's face, "So, what next?"

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