Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting
"How can we do this without her?"

"I'm coming with you."

"You're not Seamus, just leave it."

"How do you expect to get on by yourself? You need someone to –"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. I've made up my mind."

Seamus sighed angrily and crossed his arms, but said nothing else for the moment. He and Dean sat in Dean's room a few days before school began. Dean was carefully folding clothes and packing them into a heavy-looking rucksack.

Downstairs, Dean's mother was talking to one of his sisters. She laughed at something and Seamus saw Dean cast a sad look towards the door.

"Have you told them you're leaving yet?" Seamus asked.

Dean shook his head. "It's better if they don't know. It's safer."

"Look who's preaching about safety," Seamus began. "The boy ready to wander off into the wild with no plan, no guide, and nothing but –"

"If you've got a better idea," Dean snarled, "I'd love to hear it."

"I do have one – bringing me along with you!"

"I already said no. Look," Dean said, his voice softer as he looked over at his friend, "I'm leaving tonight. I don't want to fight right now."

Seamus sighed and looked down at his feet. "I'm worried about you, is all," he muttered.

Dean smiled bravely at him. "Worried about me? No need, mate. Don't you remember the Quidditch World Cup? Who was it who was able to find his way back to the tent through that maze of people each time when you kept getting us lost? I'll be fine."

But Seamus didn't smile back. He stood up and paced the length of the room a few times. "You're my best mate. I'm coming with you. I've made up my mind."

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. "Seamus, we've been through this a thousand times. It's dangerous and I don't want –"

"I don't care if it's dangerous! I'm going with you and you can't –"

"Let me finish!" Dean cried. "I don't want you with me because you'll slow me down! One person can move quicker than two and you – you've got no sense of direction at all, you're no good with cooking or hunting or anything that would be useful. You'd just take up time and supplies! I don't want you to come!"

Seamus stared at him, his mouth slightly open. "Excuse me?" he finally managed.

Dean slammed his fist down onto his desk. "Damn it Seamus, it was plain English, wasn't it?"

The boys stood on opposite sides of the room, glaring at each other.

"Dean? Seamus?" Dean's mother called from down the stairs. "Everything all right? I heard shouting."

"Fine, Mum," Dean called back, though he never took his eyes from Seamus.

"All right," Seamus muttered, his throat tighter than he'd ever admit. "Fine, if you don't want me, you can go it alone."

"Good," Dean spat. He hid his full rucksack beneath his bed and sat on it. "I tried to be tactful about it but – "

"But I'm useless and you don't want me around," Seamus finished for him. "How was that for tact?"

"Terrible. But at least you've finally got that through your skull."

A sudden knock at the door made them both jump.

Dean's youngest sister stood in the doorway. "Hi Seamus," she grinned, batting her eyelashes animatedly.

"Hi," Seamus muttered.

She turned to Dean. "Mum says dinner is ready and you two have to come down."

Dean jumped up and put his arm about his sister. "Sounds good. Did you help make it?"

"Yes. I make green beans with garlic because I know they're Seamus's favourite." She flashed Seamus another grin.

Any other day, the boys would have had a good laugh at this, but now all Seamus could do was glare at the back of Dean's head.

Dean patted his sister's shoulder. "What, you don't want to make me my favourite food?" he teased.

She made a face. "You like mushrooms. I hate those. But I love green beans." Another grin at Seamus.

Dean laughed. "Fair enough. You go ahead; we'll be down in a minute."

Turning on her heel, the girl skipped out of the room.

Dean turned back to Seamus. "Will you look after them?" he asked in a small voice. "As best you can? When I'm gone?"

All of his anger melted away as Dean looked pleadingly at him, his eyes shining too brightly. "Of course," he replied. "Come on, let's just have dinner. You heard her – green beans."

Dean shot him a half grin and the two boys headed for the door and down the stairs.

"Seamus?"

"Mmmh?"

"You're my best mate, too."

If Neville had gone home for the holidays, he would have been able to see his parents. He felt horribly guilty, imagining them waiting for him to show up on Christmas morning – despite the fact that his grandmother assured him they wouldn't notice a thing.

Neville knew they would. Their minds might have faded, but minds and hearts are two different things.

Still, he felt sure that if his parents knew why he had stayed behind, they would be proud. He and Seamus had been distracting Inspectors for days, helping students to sneak in Muggle paraphernalia, passing out illegal copies of the Quibbler, and whispering passwords to Potterwatch. It really wasn't much, but each broken rule felt like a huge victory.

Neville looked at Seamus across the dormitory, where they both sat cross-legged on their beds. Seamus had finally told Neville more about the night Dean had left.

"You're not useless," Neville said softly after Seamus had finished his story. "I expect he only said that so you wouldn't go along with him. He was trying to – you know – keep you out of harm's way."

Seamus shrugged, pulling at his shoelaces. "Maybe. He was quite nice to me the rest of the evening. Didn't want the last conversation between us to have been a row, I suppose. I stayed for a while, but I left fairly early. Wanted to give him time with his family, y' know?"

Neville nodded. "And they didn't know anything?"

Seamus shook his head. "Dean kept it a complete secret. It was hard for him, but he wanted to protect them."

"Have you spoken to them since he left?"

"Yeah," Seamus nodded. "Did you know, in Hogsmede they've got a Muggle letterbox?"

"A what?"

"It's what Muggles use for the post," Seamus explained excitedly. "I write to them every once in a while and send it that way – it takes longer, but I don't think those letters are being screened. I'm still careful about what I say, though," he added. "You never know, with his foul lot sticking their nose into everything."

"But how do they write back?" Neville asked, leaning forward a bit.

Seamus sighed. "They don't. I was going to try and see them this Christmas, but..." He shrugged. "I figured it was more important to stay here."

Neville looked guiltily down at his comforter, pulling at a loose thread. "You didn't have to," he muttered. "I could have managed."

"Oh, I know," Seamus said confidently. "But someone's got to be here to clean you up once you get your arse kicked."

Neville made a face at him. "Give me a bit of credit," he laughed, "it hasn't come to that yet – this week, at least.

"You know, now that I think of it," Seamus grinned slyly, "maybe I ought to leave that job to Abbott."

Neville blushed furiously. "I – what? You – no – it – what?"

Seamus laughed. "I saw you two in the courtyard the other day."

"We were just talking," Neville insisted.

Seamus kept on grinning. "All right, sure. 'Just talking' – rubbish."

"Don't you starting having a go at me as well!" Neville moaned, falling back on his bed. "Luna and Ginny are bad enough as it is."

Seamus laughed. "Look at you – Mr. Longbottom, the ladies' man."

Neville couldn't help but burst out laughing as he lay on his bed. "That's me, all right – spot on." He was quiet for a moment, then he propped himself up on his elbow and faced Seamus. "Do you really think I'd ever have a chance with her? Hannah, I mean?"

"Definitely," Seamus nodded. "Padma told me the other day that Susan asked Parvati about you."

Neville screws up his face, thinking. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Obviously, isn't it?"

"Not exactly."

Seamus leaned back against his pillows. "Well, Susan and Hannah are best friends. And everyone knows that when the best friend starts asking about a bloke, it's because it'd be too obvious if the girl did it herself. It means the girl fancies yah."

"I thought Ernie was Hannah's best friend?"

"Well, girls usually get other girls to do it, don't they?"

"How should I know? In fact – how do you know?"

"Dean told me. Living with sisters, he'd figured out how girls work. Well, as much as anyone can, I suppose."

"And why were you talking to Padma?"

"Oh, you're missing the point!" Seamus cried. "Hannah fancies you!"

Neville felt himself blush again, but smiled all the same.

"So," Seamus said, leaning forward, "when are you gunna ask her out?"

"Ask her – what? N-never!" Neville spluttered as he spat back up.

"Never?" Seamus cried, incredulous.

Neville mumbled something about more important things going on right now.

Seamus shook his head. "You're hopeless."

Neville was about to respond when he felt something warm in his pocket. Seamus seemed to feel it, too, and in a moment they were both digging through their robes, looking for their coins.

Seamus got to his first. He was good and reading the code, seeing as he had helped create it, so as Neville stared at his Gallon, eyes narrowed in concentration, Seamus read the message aloud. "Everything is okay. I'm fine."

Neville looked up. "That's it?" he asked hurriedly. "That's all it says?"

"That's it."

"Well, who's it from?" he demanded.

Seamus scrutinized the coin for a moment, but gave up. "I can't tell." He looked up at Neville apologetically. "We wanted to get the coins to you as soon as we could, so we never figured out a way to show which message came from which person. Padma and I were going to do it, but they've been working so well, we kind of... forgot." He hung his head and flipped the still-warm coin over in his hand a few times.

Neville look down at his, too. "What do you think it means?" he asked quietly after a while.

"Something bad," Seamus muttered.

Neville's forehead contracted worriedly. "But it says 'everything's okay' – how can that be bad?"

Seamus looked up at him, an old, almost forgotten darkness back in his eye. "Why would someone send that of something hadn't gone wrong before?"

Neville stood up abruptly and ran to the door.

Seamus followed at his heals. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

"If something bad really has happened to one of us, I need to try and fix it."

Seamus sighed. "So much for not getting your arse kicked this week."

On the third day, Luna began to lose heart.

She had sent the message to the DA. When she was back in her right frame of mind, it was the first thing she did.

Of course, everything was far for fine, but the last thing she wanted was for her friends to get killed trying to rescue her.

A few days in Askaban was enough for her to realize that this wasn't like breaking into the Ministry had been – anyone trying to get in or out was killed, no questions asked.

Her cell was tiny and cold. She sat as far away from the front of it as she could, but the corners of the cell stank and were greasy and wet – with what, she never wanted to find out.

The cells in Askaban became more and more secure the deeper you went into the prison. Luna had already seen huge wizards, fighting and struggling, being led down there by guards and Dementors. Sometimes there were Goblins. Once there was a House Elf.

If there was a silver lining, it was that she was in the first cell. She was closest to the huge front doors, so, though she never saw any light from it, every once and a while she could breathe in relatively fresh air. Most of the Dementors stayed away from there, focusing their energies on the high security prisoners.

But sometimes they did come.

She could feel one now, slowly making its way up the bleak corridor that all of the cells opened on to. It got colder. She pulled her knees up to her chest and put her head down. Maybe if she could force all her bad thoughts as far back in her mind as possible, the Dementor wouldn't be able to pull them out into the open.

But, of course, that was impossible.

And like every other time the Dementors came, Luna saw her mother cry out and collapse onto the floor.

"Mama? Mama!"

Luna squeezed her eyes tight, but nothing would block the memory.

The spell had scarred her mother's face and arms; her eyes were open.

It was even colder now. Luna shivered, rocking back and forth.

Her mother's eyes found Luna's. Her lips moved noiselessly and her hand twitched. Luna grabbed it. "It's okay," Luna sobbed helplessly. "Daddy!" she screamed. "Daddy!"

Find happy thoughts, find happy thoughts, she begged herself. But she couldn't. Sitting curled up in that miserable cell, she wondered whether she had ever had any at all.

Footsteps overhead.

"It's going to be okay, Daddy's coming."

Her mother clutched Luna's hand.

"N o," Luna murmured to herself. "No, no." She began to sob. Her breath came out in chokes and coughs as she shivered in the dark, her memory as real as it had been the day her mother died.

Her mother's eyes her wide and afraid and it sent a cold, horrible shiver down Luna's spine.

The same shiver ran down her spine now. She knew what happened next. "No, please," she begged.

No one heard her but the monster under the rotting cloak. Its breath rattled, putrid and rank, as it inhaled greedily.

The faintest flicker of a smile and her mother's eyes unfocused and her hand, held so tightly in Luna's little one, went limp.

"No! Mama!" little Luna screamed.

"No, Mama!" she screamed now.

Tears she willed not to come streamed down her face. The Dementor was just outside her cell now. She also didn't notice the biting cold that came with it – her mother's blank eyes were imprinted in her mind and she could think of nothing else.

But the memory went on.

"Luna? Luna, what is it?"

When he saw his daughter crouched over his wife, still clutching her cold hand, he knew.

A cry unlike anything Luna had ever heard, or would ever hear, rent through the air.

Luna's head was empty of everything but dead eyes and a tortured scream and she half wished the Dementor would come closer and take her – because what could be worse than this?

It was then, on the third day, that Luna began to lose heart.

But she did not give up.

She had no wand, but she forced herself to think happy thoughts nonetheless. What were they again? She couldn't remember – her dead mother, her hysterical father, still filled her entire world.

If only she could conjure her Patronus.

But even the word Patronus brought a flicker of hope – why?

Harry had taught her.

In the DA – with Ginny and Neville and Hermione and Ron.

Friends, friends, friends, friends.

Luna was scared. She was dirty and cold and hungry.

But she had hope. And she was loved.

She was certain that Death Eaters could never understand how important these things were - they were intangable and so they were often overlooked, ignored, and underestimated.

But ignored, overlooked, and underestimated things were often the most powerful.

Luna was proof of that.

He was playing Gobstones with Parvati and Jimmy Peaks when Ginny finally climbed through the portrait hole. A few Gryffindors greeted her, but she ignored them, making straight for Neville and tapping him on the shoulder.

"Hullo Ginny!" Neville cried, a giant grin on his face. "Have a good holiday?"

"I need to talk to you."

"All right, just one minute," he said, turning back to his game. "I've never been this close to winning before."

"You haven't got a chance, Longbottom," Parvati smirked. "I've got you cornered."

"You wish."

"I need to talk to you now, Neville," Ginny snapped.

Her pleading but stern voice made him quickly face her again. Her face was unreadable, but there was something in her eyes that scared Neville to the core.

"Let's go to my dorm," he said quietly. He stood up without a word and left Parvati and Jimmy staring after them.

They strode purposefully through the common room, ignoring the other students as they enjoyed their last free hours before classes would resume. Seamus looked up from a book he was reading as the passed. He smiled, but it faded when he saw their grave, determine faces.

"Everything all right?" he asked, already half out of his seat.

"Later," spat Ginny, her eyes still fixed on the staircase that led to the boys' dormitories. Annoyed that people had begun to whisper and stare, she grabbed Neville by the hand and nearly dragged him up the steps.

"What's happened?" he asked worriedly, shutting the door firmly behind them once they were safely in the dorm.

Ginny stood away from him, looking out of the window. "Did you get the message?" she asked.

"Message?" Neville repeated. " Oh – the one that said 'I'm fine'? Yeah, we all got it, but no one could figure out who sent it."

"It was her, then," Ginny said, more to herself than Neville, as if she were finally had a conclusion to a debate she'd been having with herself.

"Who?"

"Luna."

Neville paused for a moment, thinking. "Something happened to her," he said. It wasn't a question, but he waited for Ginny to confirm it nonetheless.

Neville saw Ginny place her hands on the windowsill and lower her head. He knew he should make some effort to comfort her, but worry and fear gnawed away at him and held him back.

"What happened to Luna? Where is she?" he demanded.

He heard Ginny take a shaky breath before saying, "they took her."

"Took her? Who took her? Took her where?"

"I don't know," Ginny said in a weak voice.

Neville took a few long strides towards her. "Ginny, tell me what happened," he demanded. His heart hammered wildly in his chest and he could feel the anxiety bubble up inside him like a noxious acid, eating away at him.

Ginny finally turned and faced him. She gave him a look she had never given him before – pain and fear and anger and helplessness – it sent a chill down his spine.

"Is she dead?" he breathed.

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. They took her – Death Eaters – they tried to drag her off the train," she inhaled sharply, fighting off sobs. "She wouldn't – they cursed her – Imperious Curse – she... she couldn't fight it – and I... I couldn't... I couldn't..."

Ginny began to cry unlike anyone Neville had ever seen cry before. It wasn't loud and wailing, but a quiet weeping, like someone who had been defeated, someone completely beaten, without any kind of light or hope waiting for them ever again.

She sank onto the nearest bed and Neville sat down beside her, taking her hand.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"I don't know – Dad says Askaban, as likely as not."

Neville shuddered. He didn't want to imagine anyone in there – least of all Luna.

Ginny turned to him; her eyes were red and her cheeks tearstained, but she fought to control herself. "I wanted to tell you," she said slowly, "but Dad said it would cause a panic. He told me not to send you a message."

"Why?" Neville demanded. "We could have looked for her straight away!"

"That's why – he didn't want anyone to do anything rash."

"Rash? They've got her locked up! It's not rash, it's what's right!"

Ginny swallowed hard and, taking her hands away from Neville, she rubbed her eyes. "No one gets in or out of Askaban," she said darkly. "Dad said if we're seen, we're killed. And we'd put Luna in danger – the greater of a risk she is to their security, the worse state she'll be in – if they let her live at all."

Neville let his head fall into his hands as the weight of what had happened began to fully hit him. "Why?" he croaked. "Why did they take her?"

"Her dad," Ginny answered simply. "The Quibbler."

"She said she was fine," Neville said, to comfort himself as much as to comfort Ginny.

"But why hasn't she said anything else?" Ginny asked.

The answer neither of them dared speak hung in the air and weighed down on them, nearly suffocating them – because she can't send messages if she's dead.

"What do we do now?" Neville choked.

Ginny's voice broke again as she said, "I don't know."

And for a moment, they looked at each other, hopeless, terrified and feeling so, so small and so, so young.

Until their pockets heated.

"Merlin's pants!" Neville cried as they both scrambled for their coins.

"It just says 'courtyard'," Ginny read. She sighed. "It can't be from her."

Neville sat still for a moment, staring at his Galleon without really seeing it, his thoughts far away in a cell in Askban he could only imagine.

"This was Harry's bed, wasn't it?" Ginny asked suddenly.

"What?" Neville asked. "Oh – yeah, it was."

Ginny gripped the comforter tightly, gazing for a moment at the pillows at the head of the bed. The she looked around the rest of the room, standing up and walking to the next bed. "This must have been Ron's," she said quietly, running her hand over the blankets.

Neville nodded.

She looked across the room. "Dean's," she murmured, indicating the bed beside Seamus's. "They look so cold," she muttered.

Neville ran his hands through his hair and walked up beside her. "It's so empty in here now."

She looked over at him, her eyes shining. "They've taken so many people from us. They're taking everyone."

She grabbed Neville's hand and squeezed.

Neville tried to find words to comfort Ginny, but all be managed to say was, "I'm terrified."

"Me, too."

"I thought wars were just fighting and chaos. I didn't realize that so much... that everything..."

"...gets taken from you," Ginny finished. "And you're expected to go on."

Neville looked back down at the coin in his hand. "Let's go," he said, and without another word, they were both off.

When they returned to the common room, most of the members of the DA were already gone. Other students stared at them curiously as they ran by, but left them alone. Ginny heard a tiny third year whisper something to her friend.

"It must be important," the friend whispered back, "they're in the Army."

By the time Ginny and Neville reached the courtyard, a circle had formed around someone who was speaking. Upon seeing them, the crowd parted to let them through to the front.

Ernie McMillan stood there. He looked absolutely retched, his hair mussed from running his hands over it so many times as he spoke. "Like I said," he was saying, "one of them was a big bloke with dark bags under his eyes, the other was shorter and wider, but had a curler face."

Hannah stood at his side, patting his back comfortingly, staring down at her feet as he spoke.

Ernie stopped short when he saw Neville and Ginny.

"You've told them?" Ginny asked.

Ernie ignored the question. He stepped forward, looking imploringly at Ginny. "I'm so sorry," he said in a rush, "I'm so sorry, Ginny – I had to. I had to! They were going to kill you, they as good as told me and – "

"Wait, what?" Neville cried. "What happened?"

Ginny sighed, still looking at Ernie. "He held me back. There was a fight, and the others were still in the compartment, but I ran after Luna. Ernie held me back."

"I'm sorry," Ernie repeated, sounding as pained as Neville had ever heard him sound before. "I saw them Curse you and I thought... I thought they would..." He sighed, shook his head, and started down another path. "I should have fought with you. I'm sorry. With the both of us, maybe we could have..."

Ginny shook her head. "We couldn't have beaten them. They were too strong, they had Luna as a shield, and I didn't even have a wand." She stopped and thought for a while. "I'm sorry I said I hated you," she said calmly, meeting his worried gaze. "I don't hate you. You were trying to help."

But Neville was confused. "But weren't there lots of you on the train?"

Terry stepped forward. "You don't understand, mate, they were animals. Nearly suffocated Demelza, they stunned me... there wasn't much we could do."

The group was quiet for a moment. Lavender and Parvati were holding hands; Ginny had moved over to Ernie and patted his shoulder, though he still looked at war with himself; the Ravenclaws stood grouped together, looking sombre, their heads hung low; Seamus stood near them, his hand near his chest, clutching his rosary and Neville thought wildly of miracles and hope and of Luna holding his hand, telling him there was always hope.

"I suppose we're done, then," came a voice. Everyone looked round to see Zacharias Smith step forward.

"Done?" Ginny repeated, her eyes narrowed at him.

"Yeah. Look, all this Dumbledore's Army stuff isn't working; it's only putting us in danger. Look at Looney Lovegood."

"They didn't take her because she's in the DA," Ginny said angrily.

"Doesn't matter though, does it?" Smith went on. "We're in an army that obviously doesn't work – we haven't managed to get the Carrows out of the school, and we couldn't save Lovegood. Besides, it doesn't make any sense anymore – Dumbledore is dead."

A heavy silence.

"We'll be Potter's Army then," growled Seamus.

"Hear, hear!" cried Ernie.

Suddenly, people started shouting – some cheered, others yelled. It got so bad, Neville was worried they were going to call too much attention to themselves.

"Enough!" he cried. "Shut it, will you?"

Everyone turned to face him and suddenly his cheeks grew warm. He was never good at speaking in front of people, and now dozens of faces looked back at his, waiting for him to say something – anything – that would give them any sort of clue as to how to go on from here.

He mustered his confidence and found Ginny's face in the crowd and spoke as if they were alone again in the dorm.

"It was always Luna," he said gently. "Every time we got in a scrape, she was always the one to get us out. She took the blame for the jinxed door, she gave the Sword back to Snape, and she talked that centaur out of shooting us dead. We never realized it, but it was her every time. How can we do this without her?"

Ginny's brow furrowed. "So you want to disband?" she asked quietly.

"No," he said firmly.

"But they'll just pick us off one by one!" Zacharias interjected.

"Not if we don't give them the chance to," Neville said. "There must have been hundreds of students on that train – maybe Ginny and Ernie alone couldn't have stopped the Death Eaters taking Luna, but all of them could have."

"I don't follow," Michael Corner said, looking confused and somewhat incredulous.

"I was wrong," Neville admitted. "I was wrong to not allow new members into the DA." He turned to Hannah, whose eyes were fixed on him. "You were right all along, Hannah. We need to stand together, it's the only way we've got a chance."

Neville was excited, his mind racing as he looked around at the other children in the army. "They can't pick us off one by one if we're all together – we'll make it a proper, fair fight."

"How?" asked Anthony Goldstein. "No matter what we do, they're stronger and there will always be more of them then there are of us."

"But we want to win more," Neville explained. The students had circled around him and he spun slowly as he spoke, facing everyone, and growing more and more excited. "We want it more – we're not trying to win so we don't get in trouble. You think half of these Death Eaters care what happens to Muggleborns, or who's our Minister for Magic, or even if You-Know-Who gets what he wants? No, they just do as they're told so they aren't punished! They are weak idiots clinging to the side they think will win!"

"So what does that make us?" Parvati asked. "Aren't we the idiots, fighting a losing battle?"

"It's not a losing battle," Neville insisted. "We're holding out for Harry – and who knows what he's doing or how far he's gotten? He could show up tomorrow with the key to winning the whole war!"

"Or he could never show up," muttered Zacharias.

"You gotta have hope," Seamus said suddenly, rounding on Smith, though he didn't look angry. "It's the only way to get through any of this – hope."

Neville beamed at him.

"So, what's the plan?" Ginny asked. "This is all talk – what are we going to do?"

"Are we keeping the Army?" asked Padma.

"Yes," Neville said. "And we're opening it up. Anyone who wants to fight can help. Together, we're stronger. Together, we have a shot."

The students began to murmur excitedly. Seamus came over and clasped Neville on the back. Even Ernie was able to smile as some of the Ravenclaws walked over and started brain storming ways to let more students know about the DA without tipping off the Carrows or the Inspectors.

Ginny strode over to Neville, looking determined. "This is all well and good," she said seriously, "but what about Luna?"

"We'll talk to McGonagall," Neville decided. "Maybe she can alert the Order."

"Yeah. We'll need outside help," Ginny mused, nodding to herself. Her eyes lit up suddenly. "The kitchens!" she cried. "Why do I keep forgetting about them? We can ask Dobby for help."

"Dobby?" Seamus repeated. "Isn't he an elf? The one in love the Harry? What can he do?"

"Nothing, if we don't ask him," Ginny replied.

"Good point," Seamus said.

"But how do we get in?" Neville asked. "We got caught last time."

Ginny was quiet for a minute, thinking, as the other students continued to talk excitedly. "Leave it with me," she said after a while. "I'll come up with something."

And with a mischievous glint in her eye, she took off running towards the castle.

"I know it won't change anything," said a quiet voice behind Neville, "but, for what it's worth, I'm very sorry about what happened to Luna."

Neville and Seamus both spun around to see Hannah standing there.

Neville nodded solemnly.

"She's brave, though," Hannah added. "Luna is a fighter. She'll be okay."

"I hope so," Neville breathed.

Seamus punched Neville in the arm. "No time for moping now," he said bracingly. "We've got work to do."

It was the dead of night. Far off somewhere, an owl hooted.

Neville could hear the few Inspectors left guarding the halls lazily pacing back and forth. They were easily avoided.

As quietly as he could, Neville snuck into the hallway where Dumbledore's old office was. He wondered if Snape was in there now, sitting behind the desk and deciding their fates.

The thought of it angered him – emboldened him.

He stepped into the middle of the dark hall, his wand gripped tightly in his sweaty hand, and faced the empty wall in front of him.

Of course they would know it was him.

He would be punished.

"What are you doing, son?" whispered an old wizard in a portrait behind him.

Neville jumped and spun around to face the painting.

"Get to bed," the old man whispered. "Don't you know what they do to students who break rules these days?"

"Oh, I know," Neville muttered.

He clenched his jaw, faced the wall, and raised him wand.

"Flagrate."

Neville moved his wand along the wall, carving fiery words into it as the light reflected in his determined brown eyes.

He finished, stepped back, and admired his work for a moment.

"What on Earth do you mean by that?" hissed the old wizard, squinting and adjusting his spectacles to read the message.

Footsteps.

Neville didn't answer the man in the portrait. He ran up the corridor and back to the Gryffindor common room, his heart racing with fear and excitement.

The students would know what it meant. And even if the teachers managed to erase it, the word would spread. The message would get out. A smile tugged at his lips as he ran.

Long after Neville left, the smouldering letters cast a dim light into the hall.

They said:

DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY, STILL RECRUITING.