Rebel

Grimmauld Place.

This place had history. Lots and lots of it. It was the ancestral home of the Moste Noble and Ancient House of Black, in the days of yore when the Blacks reigned supreme over the magical world. Then it was the HQ of the Order of the Pheonix, one of the most noble and respectable organizations of Britain. Then it became the home of the Golden Trio during the Second Wizarding War, where they strategized and hatched plans to overthrow Voldemort. And now.......it was the place where Albus Severus Potter, son of Harry Potter, sneaked in to practice the Dark Arts.

Well, not technically. Albus personally considered it supremely idiotic on part of wizards and witches to categorize magic that way. Even a so-called light charm like Diffindo could be used to slit someone's throat. And over the years, Albus had come to realise that most of the rumours surrounding the Dark Arts were just those: rumours. They didn't sap your magic. They didn't turn you insane. And they certainly didn't turn you 'evil', whatever the definition of the word was. Albus considered himself a good, caring man, capable of love. And he had been studying the Darker forms of magic for a long time now.

Albus flipped over one of the old, aging pages of one of the books he had found in the Black family library. Hell, this was fascinating. The theories involved, merging of runes in magic.....one of the most intricate, intellectual spell theories he'd ever read. So what if it was Dark? Albus was just about to note down a point or two in his thin, black notebook, when the knocker sounded throughout the house. Loudly. Then there was a click, and a heavy groaning sound. Albus stiffened in place. Someone had just come into the house.

Many years ago Neville made two major promises to Harry. One to watch over Grimmauld Place and the second to keep his family safe; which he had failed at the latter. He hated coming here because it made him think of Harry. He felt bad for Hermione and Ron; it must be harder for them. The fact it easily could have been him who had died if Voldermort had gone after his parents instead of the Potters.

Soon as he got into the building he noticed it had been disturbed, he had been noticing it for a long time just didn’t do anything about it. But after what happened to Susan in a muggle neighborhood at that had him on edge. Susan was a capable witch and she nearly got killed.

“Marrying a Halfblood, you could have done so much better,” hissed Walburga. Neville was used to Walburga’s portrait by now. “Good to see you too Walburga,” sighed Neville. Neville had an idea, Walburga was here all the time maybe she knew whom was getting into this place. “Do you happen to know who is sneaking into here?” asked Neville. “Young boy with brown hair. He does magic in the house,” she said. “Thank you,” he said moving on.

Neville had his wand drawn just because of what happened to Susan. Ernie had told him that she hadn’t had her wand on her, that’s why there wasn’t more of a fight. Ernie had also warned him when Susan came around do not surprise her because she will hex the head off anyone who surprises her. She hexed her own father for Merlin’s sake, she felt horrible about it of course. Hannah had even said Susan was different now. She seemed more secretive and quite. No one knew what spell it was but Neville believed it was the Cruciatus Curse. He knew how that spell changes you after you become victim to it.

Neville nearly casted a hex when he saw the form of a human body. He quickly withdrew his wand when he realized who it was. Of course I much older version but it was Albus Potter. The last time he has seen him was at that funeral so many years ago. He had talked to both James and Lily but was unable to find Albus. He noticed a book near Albus, he knew what type of magic was in that book and his blood boiled after all the fighting against the Dark Arts he didn’t stand for any young people learning Dark Arts but knew all young adults did. He knew for a fact Frank had once but never did it again mostly because his mother chased him around with a book she hexed to have teeth. He knew the three older Macmillan kids practiced it but doubted any of them would use it.

“Long time no see Albus. If you wanted to use the place you could have owled me so I didn’t nearly try to hex your head off,” said Neville.

Crap. Double crap.

It was Neville. Probably one of the worst people who could have caught Albus in such a sticky situation, apart from his Mum. Or James.

Albus hadn't been in Slytherin for nothing though. He knew that the worst thing to do when caught in a bad place, was panic, or be overly casual, or try to distract. Yes, a momentary look of surprise did shoot over his face, but it was soon replaced by his normal, amiable-smile mask. Slowly, without any hurry, he closed the book shut with a snap and slid it on the nearby table top. Same with his notebook. He stood up, smiling, speaking carefully, “Long time no see……” The words on his tongue hesitated a bit. He hadn’t spoken to Neville for years. What should he even address him as? Uncle Neville? No, too familial. Professor Longbottom? Too formal. So he said nothing and let the sentence hang in the air awkwardly, unfinished.

Albus’s sharp eyes were not too slow to catch the quick flitting of Neville’s own gaze towards the book he had just been studying, and the subsequent colder gaze. Albus resisted an unwanted, abrupt flare of irritation. Who the hell was the man to judge him? He was a family friend yes, but not his father. In fact, Neville Longbottom happened to be foremost among a never-ending line of people who had nothing but reverence for Harry Potter. And of course, they expected his children to walk on their father’s enshrined footsteps. One step out of the line, and Albus was condemned as a disappointment. No wonder he sought out the Dark Arts, even if it was initially just for the sake of rebelling against the memory of his long-dead-and-yet-not-gone father. He had had enough of expectations.

“Sorry, slipped my mind.” It was true, it had absolutely slipped Albus’s mind that Neville was the sort-of caretaker of Grimmauld Place. It didn’t make much sense, now that Albus and James were of age, the control of the house should legally be in their hands. Albus directed the mask-smile towards Neville again. “I just come here now and then to…..study.”

Below the mask though, Albus’s thoughts were in a whirlwind. He didn’t think Neville was the type to snitch, but if he did mention something about this to his immediate family…….Albus winced. The Potter-Weasley clan were a force to be reckoned with. Add that to the fact that his remains would probably have to be scoured out from the nearest drain after James was done with him.

“Albus we both know what is in that book. I’m not here to tell you what’s right or wrong. It may seem harmless now but it won’t be that way forever. There is a witch or wizard who hasn’t used a spell in a malicious manner but if you do use it too much in battle it scares you,” said Neville. He had to bring himself back to his younger years. He did stuff too he wasn’t proud of. Even war ‘heroes’ were human.

“To be honest it’s like I’ve talked to any of you kids for a while. I still have to figure out which one of you to give this place to. It didn’t seem fair to choose until all of you were of age,” said Neville. Fairness, Neville didn’t believe it existed but he tried. There were a lot of things he could say to Albus but he didn’t say a single one.

“If you are worried I’d tell your mother or James stop worrying about it. I haven’t spoken to your mother in years and I have no need to bother James,” Neville said. He mostly he didn’t want to talk to James because James reminds him too much of Harry. He didn’t like thinking about Harry because then he had to remember the faces of the people he killed. They were Death Eaters but they have families too. He hated to think of all the kids he affected that night.

“I’m also not going to give you a huge speech. I’m guessing you’re tired of hearing it. There are a lot of things you think you know but you haven’t even starched the surface. I get it the pressure trying to live up to someone’s namesake is hard I had to live up to two of the best Aurors of their time. Your father had to live up to a lot more than a prophecy. A prophecy only has meaning if you give it one. I’m sure you have your judgments about me as I have about you. But remember this; every single person is just human. I knew your dad is a man not a hero,” Neville said. That really was the best he could say. It was like being in a boxing ring at the moment. Life was that boxing ring but Neville ignored that part most of the time.

Predictable. Albus could have guessed what Neville would say next in his sleep. The ‘I-know-what-you’re-doing’ angle came first, followed by the whole ‘I-don’t-have-the-right-to-tell-you-what-to-do’ declamation. Still, that was effectively what he was doing, wasn’t he? In a very roundabout, indirect way, Neville was definitely warning him off Dark magic. Albus’s jaw tightened. Hell, this had been the one field that his siblings or family had never ventured into, one thing in which Albus wasn’t average. He was bloody good, as a matter of fact. There was no way in hell that he was going to ditch this halfway. But Neville didn’t need to know that. So in an appropriately apologetic tone, he said, “I……..its one of the most interesting things I’ve ever studied. I…..I won’t touch it again though.” Lies. whispered his conscience.

Then, in a supremely unconcerned shrug. “Its up to you. Give it to whomever you want. But James does have a permanent flat already from his team management so……” Albus’s mind was working swiftly. He needed the Black library. But sneaking in here again under Neville’s nose would be nigh impossible so…….the best remedy would be to convince him to let Albus stay.

It was going relatively well so far. His mask was intact, he had told Neville nothing too implicative. But of course, then everything had to go wrong. Neville mentioned James with that caring lilt to his voice, the one people got when they talked of the ‘real’ son of Harry Potter, and Albus had to repress another twinge of irritation. Then, the talk. The one Albus had had too often. The one which detailed how the person ‘understood’ your problems, and how difficult it must be to live up to expectations, and how everyone else had managed it except him. Admittedly with Neville it was slightly different, Albus had started to feel slightly…..uneasy? Guilty? Especially when Neville’s parents were mentioned. But then, the topic of Harry Potter jumped into the fringe, and as quickly as it had arrived, that uneasy feeling of guilt disappeared, like a voice in the breeze too faint to be heard, and a twisting, gnawing feeling of resentment eroded all others. The mask cracked ever so slightly, and despite all efforts, a taste of bitterness seeped into his voice. “Man. Not hero. I’m sorry Uncle Neville, but he’s been dead for more than a decade. And the world still can talk of nothing other than him.” Albus turned away, his own emerald gaze boring, burning into the mirror opposite him, in the room. He resisted the brief urge to smash it. “What you say would be easier to believe if you and everyone else didn’t talk of him like a god all the time.”

Predictable. Albus could have guessed what Neville would say next in his sleep. The ‘I-know-what-you’re-doing’ angle came first, followed by the whole ‘I-don’t-have-the-right-to-tell-you-what-to-do’ declamation. Still, that was effectively what he was doing, wasn’t he? In a very roundabout, indirect way, Neville was definitely warning him off Dark magic. Albus’s jaw tightened. Hell, this had been the one field that his siblings or family had never ventured into, one thing in which Albus wasn’t average. He was bloody good, as a matter of fact. There was no way in hell that he was going to ditch this halfway. But Neville didn’t need to know that. So in an appropriately apologetic tone, he said, “I……..its one of the most interesting things I’ve ever studied. I…..I won’t touch it again though.” Lies. whispered his conscience.

Then, in a supremely unconcerned shrug. “Its up to you. Give it to whomever you want. But James does have a permanent flat already from his team management so……” Albus’s mind was working swiftly. He needed the Black library. But sneaking in here again under Neville’s nose would be nigh impossible so…….the best remedy would be to convince him to let Albus stay.

It was going relatively well so far. His mask was intact, he had told Neville nothing too implicative. But of course, then everything had to go wrong. Neville mentioned James with that caring lilt to his voice, the one people got when they talked of the ‘real’ son of Harry Potter, and Albus had to repress another twinge of irritation. Then, the talk. The one Albus had had too often. The one which detailed how the person ‘understood’ your problems, and how difficult it must be to live up to expectations, and how everyone else had managed it except him. Admittedly with Neville it was slightly different, Albus had started to feel slightly…..uneasy? Guilty? Especially when Neville’s parents were mentioned. But then, the topic of Harry Potter jumped into the fringe, and as quickly as it had arrived, that uneasy feeling of guilt disappeared, like a voice in the breeze too faint to be heard, and a twisting, gnawing feeling of resentment eroded all others. The mask cracked ever so slightly, and despite all efforts, a taste of bitterness seeped into his voice. “Man. Not hero. I’m sorry Uncle Neville, but he’s been dead for more than a decade. And the world still can talk of nothing other than him.” Albus turned away, his own emerald gaze boring, burning into the mirror opposite him, in the room. He resisted the brief urge to smash it. “What you say would be easier to believe if you and everyone else didn’t talk of him like a god all the time.”

((OOC: Uh.....I think you've reposted my post ))

Neville raised his eyebrow. Did Albus think he was stupid? He wasn’t going to fight this battle. Albus was adult and if he wanted to ruin his life it was his choice. He could at lease say he did warn Albus of the dangers of Dark Magic.
“You think I see him as a god! You have to be kidding me! Yes he was man but he was also a friend of mine. I have lost more than half my friends and I don’t idolize any of them. Why do I talk about them? Keeping it in is dangerous and I learned it the hard way. I nearly destroyed my relationship with my daughter because of how my temper would just flare up, you hold things in you just blow. I never viewed Harry as a god. He was my dorm mate and my friend. I wouldn’t be who am I today without him but everyone had their faults. We all do. That this for a spin. I disliked your father when we were in our early years of schooling but I never said anything because I didn’t think anyone cared. I blamed him for what happened to my parents and it took me until I was a fourth year to realize that it wasn’t Harry’s fault, he didn’t choose this life. That’s really how he made me who I am, I was finally able to do good at things because I didn’t have so many bottled feelings that were holding me back,” said Neville yelling in the beginning but slowly calming his voice down.
“The reason I even talk about my friends that are died is because I still feel guilty I am alive and they are dead. I still grieve over them. Everyone who was in the second war and is still alive is still effect to a point. My wife still has issues about with people she has lost. I’m sure you know who Susan Bones or Macmillan, whatever you want to call her. She just joined a grief group in Germany, magical hospital. She couldn’t live the way my wife and I do. We talk about them because it still hurts and it always will,” said Neville.

((sorry about that))

Easy. It would be so easy to just believe what Neville was saying, crumple down on the couch and confess everything.

Confess that this wasn't just a phase, he had started dabbling in the Dark Arts in fifth year and he hadn't been able to let go of it since, confess that maintaining the polite, humble, Light mask was becoming more of a chore with each passing day, confess that he had to bite his lips and grit his teeth too often to resist the urge to hex the people around him to oblivion, confess that his urges were getting Darker everytime his conscience had to suppress them.

But he couldn't do that.

Neville's voice had started climbing in amplitude till he was almost yelling, it was evident that Albus's throwaway comment of how everyone deified Harry Potter had stung him. Somehow, the fight drained out of Albus a little, and his voice opposed to Neville's grew softer, "Not everyone thinks like you do, Uncle Nev. I'm tired. Tired of being an ideal child when I'm not. Tired of being overlooked, forgotten, because I'm not half as charismatic and talented and prodigious as my family, my parents. Dark Arts are the one thing that I'm good at. How can you expect me to leave it, let it go away, just like that?"

Neville knew that this was the point where he had to take control. He could see Albus needed help even if he wouldn’t admit to it. Everyone needs help at certain points of their life. Both he and Hannah were seeking help for their issues. Sometimes things get out of control.

“Albus then show them the truth. That’s the only way to find yourself. Ask Susan Bones, soon as she joined the media field I just seen her old self come back. If anyone knows what it is like to be overlooked it would be Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan and my wife. They grew up being overlooked and now both Susan and Ernie are proving everyone wrong. Talent isn’t everything. I’m not really that talented only in Herbology. My dueling skills aren’t talent just practice. They are many subjects they don’t teach at Hogwarts. Have you ever thought of trying to go a wizarding university, muggle university or even into the muggle armed forces. Susan’s oldest son, Edgar, is going into the British Army after he graduates. Not everyone has to work in the wizarding world. It’s just not for some people,” said Neville.

He knew several wizards and witches that worked in the muggle world not the wizarding world. It wasn’t as bad as people made it sound to be. “There is nothing wrong with having a muggle job. There is nothing wrong with not being perfect. There is nothing wrong with wanted to be different.”

He knew the next step. He was certain the boy wouldn’t take up the next offer but it was worth a shot. He felt like he should have been bigger part in the boy’s life. He could have been but he choose not to be and now he felt like this was in a roundabout way his fault. He was going to try to fix his mistakes one step at a time starting here.

“Well, Albus you are welcome into my home whenever you need a place to be. And if you really want to get away there is always Susan and Ernie in Berlin. You don’t really know them that well but they are welcoming to all people. Ernie knows quite a bit about the Dark Arts, he knows how addicting it gets,” said Neville.