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They were sitting at the dining table when Harry asked the question.
It had been two weeks ago, only a few days into the summer holidays, when his grandmother had gotten the urgent request from Harry to stay with them until school started back in September. Miraculously, the usually strict witch had agreed without question.
Now, don’t get him wrong, Neville enjoyed having his friend over, except he hadn’t gotten quite used to it yet. Two weeks, and they were still getting up to five howlers a day asking for Harry’s location. Because of course Harry hadn’t told anyone where he’d gone.
The senders were as odd as they were diverse. The first day, rather predictable, there had been letters from Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Mrs Weasley and strangely enough, their old DADA Professor, Remus Lupin.
Neville had asked about it. Apparently, none of them had bothered to write Harry anything other than small talk since the moment they’d left the train in London. An argument Neville could empathise with. Even his gran didn’t seem bothered by Harry’s increased need for secrecy.
By now they had gotten post from the whole Weasley family except Percy, two Aurors called Tonks and Shacklebolt and the Professors Lupin, McGonagall, Dumbledore and Moody; the real one this time. There also had been a letter by Professor Hagrid with so much smudged ink, it was a wonder Harry had been able to read it at all. Hagrid’s letter was the only one Harry had deigned to answer after his initial round of assurances on day two of his stay at the Longbottom residence.
The greatest shock though, had been an howler on day eight by none other than Azkaban escapee and notorious Death Eater Sirius Black. Neville and his gran had listened to a distraught Black with wide eyes. Unlike his grandmother Neville didn’t have enough ‘grace’ to not gape openly at Harry and his wild explanation about his godfather’s innocence. Sirius Black was Harry’s godfather!
All that to say, the question Harry asked that day was only a fragment in a series of confounding events surrounding their newly acquired house guest.
“Mrs Longbottom, would you happen to know the proper process to view ones Prophecy Records?”
The following conversation had been filled with too much involuted bureaucracy, questions about ownership and other legalese. Neville had stopped listening five minutes in.
A detail that perfectly explained why Neville was rather bewildered when he found himself standing in the large entry hall of the ministry of magic, four days later, accompanied by his grandmother and Harry.
The three of them were armed with smart robes, his uncles old camera hidden in his gran's purse and badges declaring them ‘Esteemed Guests of the Minister of Magic’.
After the character slander of Harry Potter by the Daily Prophet during the past weeks the statement was a little hard to believe, but sure enough, not even ten minutes later they were greeted by Minister Fudge and a pink clad witch who introduced herself as Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic.
Neville wasn’t sure why, but Harry seemed to hate the woman on sight. He would not stop glaring at her, clenching his fist whenever she piped into the conversation with a audible hem, hem.
Luckily, he had long since stopped questioning Harry’s motivations.
“Here we are,” Minister Fudge had come to stop next to the lone black door at the end of Level Nine’s long corridor.
On their trip through the entry hall and the elevators Neville had learned that the Minister had set his attendance as one of two conditions for Harry’s access to the Prophecy, the second being absolute secrecy about the content of the prophecy. Neville figured the latter was also in Harry’s interest.
Prior to Harry’s question he had never thought about the possibility that there could be a prediction about him in the Department of Mysteries and he would never know. Spending the past few days on and off thinking about little else, he felt confident that he didn’t want to know either way. He wasn’t as brave as Harry.
The door was opened from the inside and moments later they were following the unnamed Unspeakable into a circular room with a bunch of nondescript doors. As soon as the main entrance closed behind their group the walls around them started rotating, leaving Neville breathless for a moment.
He stumbled a bit, when the rotation came to a halt and slightly dazed he walked behind Harry into a vast chamber with rows upon rows of shelves, on each of them multiple shiny Prophecy Records. Neville’s head snapped from left to right, up and down, taking in names and dates and soft, unrecognizable whispers around them.
“Usually”, the cloaked figure explained, “Visitors are not allowed to enter the Hall of Prophecy or any other space of the research facility. But as only the ones mentioned in the Prophecy or the seer themselves are able to safely remove the record from the shelf, we had to make an exception.”
Neville might be mistaken but the Unspeakable did not sound happy about it. He couldn’t blame him.
During their walk the Minister, Senior Undersecretary Umbridge and his gran started a carefully polite conversation about one policy or another. That seemed to have been the sign Harry had been waiting for.
He reached over to Gran and accepted the offered purse, before passing it over to a suddenly very confused Neville. Harry must’ve read it in his face because seconds later, he was leaning close and whispered a quick instruction in his ear.
And finally, finally they were standing in front of the record they were here for.
S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D
Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter
With cautious movements Harry reached for the sphere and held it in his hand, as Neville prepared to take his picture. The Minister was standing to Harry’s left, Madame Umbridge to his right. Both glared unimpressed into the camera but Neville didn’t give them the opportunity to object.
The moment he pressed the shutter, multiple things happened all at once.
Harry threw the prophecy down on the floor, along with a handful of what looked like tiny individually wrapped sweets, but absolutely weren’t sweets.
Dozens of small cracks filled the echoing halls, surrounding them with enough noise that Neville was merely able to make out a distorted female voice, coming from the glowing shards of the prophecy.
And over it all, Dolores Umbridge started to rant and rave in high-pitched tones.
When the first wave of cracks stopped and he was able to hear the words ‘the Dark Lord knows not’, Harry started stumping on the broken glass and mini explosives with his new dragon-hide boots, successfully managing to drown out the message further.
Neville couldn’t help but think it a bit ironic. Now none of them would know, and not just You-Know-Who. He was also left wondering, why he had to document the destruction of government property, but that was Harry Potter for you.
“Well, Mister Potter, this certainly was unexpected. You are aware that this will have serious consequences?” Neville’s grandmother asked and received a nod, while the rest of the witnesses were still gaping at Harry or the broken glass below him on the hardwood floor. Or, in the case of the Undersecretary, still busy cursing Harry under her breath.
Whilst he would never be as ‘graceful’ as his grandmother, he had more of it than the current Minister of Magic. Although, in his defence, Minister Fudge didn’t really know Harry. As far as Neville was aware the two had never even talked before today. In his place Neville would’ve been shocked by this turn of events, too.
Then again, if he had talked to Harry before their fourth year, all his knowledge would’ve been for nothing.
From one day to the next Harry had changed, sometime around the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. The first example of this change had been the revelation that Draco Malfoy was the person that Harry would sorely miss; a fact none of his closest friends had been aware of previously. A fact that Harry himself would have denied up until he didn’t.
Hermione had been obsessed with this change in Harry’s behaviour, maybe more so than with S.P.E.W. and her studies. But in the end, after the events of the third task, she’d followed Ron’s and Neville’s lead and let it be.
“If you need anything else Minister,” Harry addressed the shaken man, “you can send me an owl. I will not be staying with my relatives this summer.”
His intent gaze moved from the Minister to the Undersecretary before landing on Neville. A wide smile began shaping and Neville couldn’t help but return it.
“Great! Thank you for having me Minister, Unspeakable. We’ll be off then. Loads of letters to write today.”
And just like that the three of them were on their way out, shadowed by another, silent Unspeakable. The first was held up in discussion with Minister Fudge and Madam Umbridge.
“Who are you writing to? You’ve kinda been ignoring everyone else,” Neville asked, noisy against better judgement.
“Manners, Neville,” his grandmother admonished him. “You have been doing so well today.”
Neville felt himself flush crimson at the praise.
“It’s fine Mrs Longbottom. I’ll be writing The Witch Weekly, The Wizarding World News and any other Newspaper that might be interested in an exclusive interview with ‘the Chosen One’.”
“The what?” Neville yelped, not even noticing the warning glare coming from his gran.
“It’s the prophecy and all that,” Harry waved it off. How on earth was he so calm?
“Doesn’t really matter. There needs to be helpful information out there for the public and since the Ministry is doing nothing, we’re going to have to do it ourselves.”
And huh, he hadn’t really thought about that. As the Saviour of the Wizarding World Harry had chances of actually making an influence on the wider wizarding population. If done right, he might even force the Daily Prophet and with it the Ministry to change it’s tune. At once, the photo he’d taken made a lot more sense than before.
“But first,” Harry interrupted Neville’s musings, “I need to write Draco. He needs to know what’s happened today.”
The group came to a halt in front of the busy elevator, the Unspeakable already back behind the black door.
“Draco?” Neville asked carefully, “You mean Draco Malfoy?”
Maybe that too, made sense. The interaction between the two former rivals had been decidedly less hostile since the second task of the tournament.
Judging by the almost besotted smile, there might be even more to it than the more creative rumours floating about the duo suggested. Simply another point in the long list of oddities surrounding his friend.
The elevator dinged and as the doors opened Neville wondered what else his house guest had in store for them this strange summer.