The Longbottoms awoke with a hint of confusion in their eyes, as if unsure of how they had arrived in their current location. "Neville?" Mr. Longbottom's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he called out to his son. Despite Neville still being young, the image of him visiting every year had been etched into Mr. Longbottom's memory, dispelling his initial daze. He spoke softly, as if fearing that raising his voice would shatter the dreamlike moment.
Neville, overwhelmed with emotion, could hardly believe his eyes. He had long fantasized about this moment—his parents waking up and recognizing him. Tears streamed down his face as he whispered, "Mom and Dad."
Mrs. Longbottom, too, regained her bearings, and they both rose from the bed that had seen better days. A sudden movement caught their attention—a hand slipping from Mr. Longbottom's wrist. Neville froze, his heart sinking.
"John!" Percy exclaimed, rushing to the young man lying motionless on the ground. The Longbottoms, now fully alert, recognized John, the boy who had become a familiar presence during their ordeal.
"Is it him?" They exchanged a look of realization, their minds racing to piece together the events that had led to their awakening.
Madam Longbottom's voice trembled with concern, "What's wrong with him?"
Neville, pale and shaken, managed to say, "John... he cured you. But something's happened to him."
Mr. Longbottom, though unclear on the specifics, understood the gravity of the situation. He remembered the countless scholars and doctors who had visited them, all unable to offer a cure, not even Dumbledore. The joy of their family's reunion was overshadowed by the concern for John.
Neville, much like his father in appearance but with his mother's temperament, was visibly distraught. Mrs. Longbottom wept, feeling helpless.
Percy, in a state of panic, fumbled with various potions, his usual composure shattered. "Damn! Damn! Damn!" he cursed, a stark contrast to his typical demeanor. Desperately, he tried administering potion after potion to John, but to no avail.
With the last potion spent and John still unresponsive, Percy collapsed, overwhelmed by despair. Neville, unable to contain his grief, let out a heart-wrenching cry, the mournful atmosphere enveloping the Shrieking Shack.
Mr. Longbottom, however, remained composed. Clasping his wife's hand, he suggested, "This is Hogwarts, right? We can ask Dumbledore for help."
Just as hope seemed to flicker in their eyes, a weak voice interrupted, "Wait." Percy, startled, turned to find John's eyes fluttering open.
"Don't look for Dumbledore, take me back," John managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper.
"John, you're awake," Neville exclaimed, rushing to his side, guilt written all over his face. "It's all my fault."
"It's not your fault, Neville," John reassured him, managing a weak smile. "We're friends, aren't we?"
Turning to Percy, John instructed, "Take the Longbottoms to Hogsmeade. Someone will escort them from there. Let's not disturb anyone else."
Percy, still worried, nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of discretion.
"Neville, take me to the Chamber of Secrets. Be careful," John said, his voice growing fainter.
Neville nodded, determination in his eyes. He carefully hoisted John onto his back, mindful of the narrow passage through the Whomping Willow. They made their way back to the castle without drawing attention.
Upon reaching the Chamber of Secrets, Neville gently laid John down. "Go back," John insisted, noticing Neville's reluctance to leave.
"I'll wait for you here," Neville declared, his voice firm. He was determined to stand by his friend, no matter what the cost. John couldn't help but feel a mix of amusement and concern as he reassured Neville that he was alright, despite the lingering pain that made it difficult for him to even breathe. The thought of the Gryffindors discovering Neville's absence worried him, but after some insistence, Neville finally left, allowing John to focus on his own recovery.
Standing up with effort, John couldn't help but comment on Neville's unintentional harm, "Neville really doesn't know his own strength." The discomfort he felt was intense, yet there was no visible injury on his body. "I could have easily gotten lost in that blinding light if I hadn't marked my way in advance," he mused, glancing at the silver ring on his right hand. A sharp pain shot through his finger as a barb from the ring pierced his skin, a stark reminder of the connection that had guided him back.
After a quick assessment of his condition, John frowned, realizing that while his soul remained intact, his body would still suffer from weakness for some time. He clicked the armrest of the chair he was leaning on, transforming it into a comfortable bed with a simple magical adjustment. The subtle effects of mind magic weighed heavily on his thoughts, its ability to alter a person's habits and perceptions silently proving more insidious than the Imperius Curse.
As John lay down, memories of the Longbottoms' torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and other Death Eaters flooded his mind. He remembered that Barty Crouch Jr. was implicated in the crime, though his father refused to believe in his innocence. "It's a twisted fate, but ultimately, it's of little consequence to me," John thought, rubbing his temples to ease the headache that came with the influx of memories.
The Lestrange family, once noble and now notorious for their unwavering loyalty to Voldemort, was a shadow of its former self, with many members languishing in Azkaban. John knew the danger that these loyalists posed, especially with Voldemort's inevitable return. Determined to preempt any threat, he contemplated a bold move. "Once Barty Crouch Sr. is in charge, I'll suggest he orders the execution of the remaining Death Eaters," John decided, his eyes hardening at the thought.
He reflected on the Lestrange family's origins and their dwindling British branch. Knowing that many families hid their wealth within their homes or in Gringotts, John saw an opportunity to undermine the Lestranges further by targeting their financial resources. "Without funds, their attempts at resurgence will be futile," he reasoned, planning to leverage his connections to access Azkaban and gather information on the Lestrange heirs.
The pain made it impossible for John to find rest that night, and by morning, he was greeted by a concerned group of friends. Daphne was the first to rush to his side, her eyes brimming with tears as she clutched at his clothes, whispering, "You can't die."
John offered her a reassuring smile, standing up despite his unsteady condition. Noticing Neville among the visitors, he addressed him with a mix of seriousness and understanding, "Neville, you understand there are consequences for your actions, right?"
Neville, visibly shaken but resolute, nodded and replied, "John, whatever the cost, I'm ready to face it." John, with a gentle demeanor, picked up the two wands Heinrich had retrieved and approached Neville. Neville, resolute in his decision, was prepared to face any consequence, even if it meant his own demise. The room was silent, all eyes fixed on the unfolding scene. John, however, surprised everyone by placing the wands into Neville's hands, his voice steady and reassuring. "Remember to take good care of these two wands," he advised, before offering a supportive pat on Neville's shoulder.
Neville was taken aback, his voice tinged with disbelief as he addressed John, "I did something wrong!" John's response came with a light chuckle, "Then, your penance will be to clean the Star Club every month from now on." He paused, his tone softening, "This penalty is substantial enough, my friend."
The word "friend" struck a chord in Neville, his eyes brimming with tears as he fought to maintain his composure, his body quivering slightly. The tension in the room dissipated, seeing that John bore no ill will, and one by one, the Star Club members approached Neville. They offered comforting pats on his shoulder, a silent testament to their support and forgiveness.
As Malfoy sauntered past Neville, he couldn't resist a taunt, "Neville, are you crying?" Neville, his voice barely above a whisper, replied, "Thank you." Malfoy's smirk softened into a grin, his words echoing the sentiment of unity, "Have you forgotten what John said? The Star Club shares everything because we are friends."
This moment marked a turning point, reinforcing the bonds of friendship and loyalty within the Star Club. It was a testament to their collective strength and the understanding that mistakes, when faced together, could be overcome.
_________
If you are tired of reading I also have this converted to an audio novel on my youtube
https://www.youtube.com/@NovelAudioForge/featured
Direct Link to playlist
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_Hg-qsW4rM&list=PLKskshYG-OcPTR4-Nw7IWFEBZm07D8pBV&ab_channel=NovelAudioForge