The Inadequate Life

“Hey, Neville,” Harry said. “Have a seat.”

Neville glanced at Ginny, who smiled at him as she shut the door. “Er… I thought it was going to be just you,” he said. “Not that I mind, of course,” he added hastily, not wanting to be rude.

“That’s okay, Neville,” Ginny said, walking around to her own seat to Harry’s left and Neville’s right. “You’re right, for most of the D.A., they met with just Harry.”

“Ginny’s here because we want to ask something of you,” Harry said. “It’s big, and frankly, if you say yes I’d be stunned. I’d almost rather you said no…” He shook his head. “That’s not true. I want you to say yes. I need someone I can trust, and there’s no one I’d trust more than you.”

Neville blushed. “Er, thanks. So—what is it? After all that talk about Patronuses, I thought you’d want me right out there, in case the Dementors show up. After you I’ve probably got the strongest Patronus in the D.A.”

“That’s true,” Harry agreed. “Or rather, it was. But now Remus and Tonks are going to be there, and both of them have damned powerful Patronuses. They’ll more than make up for our absence—and Hermione’s absence as well, probably.”

“Oh. That’s good,” Neville said. “Well then, I’ll do whatever you’d like, Harry. I liked your plan, so any part I can have in it—”

“It’s not that simple,” Harry said. “Neville—we want you to come with us to face Voldemort.”

Neville’s whole body went cold. His jaw worked soundlessly, and he tried to keep himself from leaping up and running away in terror. “B—B—”

“I know,” Harry said quietly. “Believe me, Neville—I know exactly what you’re thinking. I would like nothing more than to just hide somewhere until it’s all over. Unfortunately, I haven’t got that choice.”

“W-well,” Neville said, getting a handle on himself, “Neither do I…”

“Sure you do,” Harry said. “I’ve given the rest of the D.A. their orders, Neville, but I’m not ordering you—I’m asking. This isn’t like telling you to hide in an alley and shoot Stinging Hexes at Death Eaters—this is Voldemort, the single most powerful and evil person alive. I’m going because I have to—I’ve accepted that Voldemort’s my responsibility, not just my problem. And Ginny’s going because she won’t let me face him alone. But I can’t order you to go on a mission with such high risk. So I’m asking.” He held up a hand. “Before you say anything,” he continued, “before you decide, I want to tell you everything—I want you to know exactly what we’re planning to do to bring Voldemort down. Your answer couldn’t possibly be fair until then, and if you said yes now, before hearing it all, I’d turn you away. After I’ve told you everything, then you can consider, and then you can give your answer.”

Neville smiled nervously. The prospect was still terrifying, but he liked that Harry was going to confide so much in him—insisted on it, in fact, before Neville chose. “Okay,” he said. “I’m listening.”

Harry really did tell Neville everything. He explained the location they’d chosen and why; he explained how they planned to ensure that Voldemort would show up when they wanted him to; he even explained the method by which he planned to actually duel with and defeat Voldemort, which Neville had to admit was pretty clever. Harry admitted that although he was practicing as much as he could, he hadn’t perfected the method yet—a bit of honesty that Neville appreciated. But Harry had used some of his contacts to acquire some things that would make the process a lot smoother.

Neville listened carefully, asking the occasional question. The more Harry told him, the less scared he became. Not that he completely lost his fear—that would have been impossible where Voldemort was concerned—but he saw why Harry and Ginny had a good deal of confidence that they could actually pull it off.

Neville also saw why they wanted him there. “You need me to be a distraction,” he said eventually, once Harry had run out of things to tell him. “You need his attention to be divided in order to give you time.”

“Basically? Yeah, that’s right,” Harry admitted. “I also need someone who’s smart, capable and competent, who’s brave but also knows when to just get the hell out of the way. You can do that, Neville. Hell, you can dodge the Killing Curse, did you know that? I’ve done it, and it’s just like dodging any hex we learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts. What I want you to do is spend ninety-five percent of your time staying the hell out of Voldemort’s way, and the other five percent throwing off a hex or two to draw his attention. You don’t need to worry about the tough part—that’s my job.”

Neville took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The idea of dodging the Killing Curse was petrifying, but Neville realized that he’d done it before—when he’d been Obliviated and Death Eaters had tried to snatch him, a couple of them had thrown the Killing Curse his way, and he’d dodged instinctively. And he was still alive, so obviously it had worked…

And really, he’d be no more than a nuisance to Voldemort—once Voldemort realized that Harry was there, that’s where all of his attention would be. Neville would probably have to do a fair bit just to distract Voldemort from Harry at all. Neville wouldn’t be the target, a fact that he found rather comforting.

“I—I’m scared,” he admitted. “But you knew that, didn’t you? You’re just as scared as me—more, probably, because you know that Voldemort’s going to want you dead a lot more than me or Ginny.” Harry grimaced, but nodded, acknowledging the truth in what Neville said. “There’s another reason you came to me, isn’t there?” Neville asked. “It’s because of what happened to my parents… and because I almost ended up with your life.”

Harry nodded again, his expression grim. “Even though you didn’t lose your parents as young as I did—even though you’ve got them back now—you’ve had almost as much taken away from you by Voldemort as I have. You have as much right to hate him, to want to see him dead, and to want to have a hand in his death, as me. I want to give you that chance, Neville, because you deserve to be able to close the book on the horrors in your past—and because you’re my friend.”

Neville swallowed. “Thanks, Harry,” he murmured softly. “I still have nightmares about mum and dad, you know. Ever since I got them back, I’ve dreamed about being trapped in my own body, like they were. I’ve dreamed that they came to see me in the ward in St. Mungo’s, like I used to go see them… and I try to—to tell them I’m in there, but they c-can’t hear me—”

Neville stopped himself before he broke up, and forced himself to regain control. “I’d like to not have those dreams any more,” he said softly. “And Harry—you’re my friend, and you’ve been a really good one. I’d like you to be able to live without fear, without looking over your shoulder all the time. Voldemort has to die for that to happen—so I want to help you kill him.”

*****

Pansy looked up when the door opened, her hand instinctively reaching for her wand, but stopped when Neville stepped in. She smiled at him—still awkwardly. She felt like the awkwardness might never end around Neville, at least until she’d trained herself to accept that Neville was privy to some of her most private aspects and that he wasn’t going to use that knowledge against her.

Neville didn’t notice the smile, awkward or no. He shut the door quietly, staring at the ground in thought. Pansy was observant enough to know that something was… not troubling Neville, exactly, but definitely foremost in his mind. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” she asked.

Neville looked up, and smiled apologetically. “Um, sorry. I just—it was my turn to meet with Harry.”

“I do remember,” Pansy retorted with deep irony, “considering that you mentioned it right before you left. You left, I might add, after shagging me into a state of near-unconscious bliss, for which I’m still grateful.”

She only said it to make Neville blush, which he did. “You’re welcome,” he replied with dignity. Pansy laughed.

“So what madness does Potter have in mind for you?” Pansy asked as she sat on the bed to pull on her shoes before heading down to the potions room. “Standing on your head and firing curses with your toes? That sounds about in keeping with his convoluted ‘plan’.”

“Not exactly,” Neville said, sitting on the bed and watching Pansy lace up her shoes.

“Well, what then? I imagine he’ll want you and your Lion Patronus on hand when the Dementors attack. I’m quite fond of that part of his plan, by the way. ‘When the Dementors appear, you’re all to form a line and start firing.’ Pure genius, a plan like that. I bet he stayed up nights working on it.”

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Neville said, frowning. “And it’s not like there’s a lot of different things we could do against Dementors.”

Pansy sighed. “I know, Neville, I was only joking. I’m a bit on edge, that’s all. We all are, right?”

“Yeah,” Neville confirmed with a shudder. “Definitely.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed as what Neville hadn’t said leapt out at her. “I notice you still haven’t told me what Potter asked you to do,” she said shrewdly. “Think I’ll berate you for being a stupid—sorry, a brave—Gryffindor?”

Neville nodded. “Yeah. Well actually, I’m not exactly sure what you’ll do—other than try to hex Harry.”

“Neville,” Pansy said menacingly, “if you don’t tell me right now what Potter roped you into doing, I’m going to go hex it out of him anyway. And then hex him over again for whatever idiocy it is.”

Neville looked alarmed; he must have realized that Pansy was completely serious. Pansy dimly realized that she’d be berating herself for her protectiveness of Neville later, but not until she’d let those feelings run their course.

“Er—okay,” Neville said reluctantly. “But you can’t tell anyone, okay? Only Harry and Ginny and me know—well, probably Ron and Hermione too. But it’s got to be kept secret.” He gave Pansy an imploring look.

“Slytherins are renowned for their ability to keep secrets,” Pansy said dryly. It wasn’t a promise to actually keep the secret, but she suspected that Neville would take it as such. The subtle manipulation was less satisfying than she might have expected.

Neville sighed. “Okay,” he said. “I guess I’d have had to tell you eventually anyway…”

*****

Harry dropped his wand arm and grunted in frustration. “I can practice until I’m blue in the face, but I don’t know if it’s working,” he growled at Ginny. “It’s just pointless right now!”

“That package is supposed to arrive today,” Ginny replied. “Until then, you just have to keep working on getting used to it. That way, when you have to do it, it’ll be instinctive.”

Grumbling, Harry went back to practicing under Ginny’s watchful eye. Not that there was much to see—the spells he cast had no visible effect, and wouldn’t until the package from Krum’s contact arrived. The spacious practice room echoed when Harry called out a spell, and was eerily silent during the long pauses in between. Harry kept at it for another ten minutes before he finally gave up. “I think I’m doing it instinctively,” he said.

Ginny sighed. “All right—I guess it doesn’t matter if you wait and try again later, when I can help you,” she accepted as Harry collapsed into the seat next to her. “I wish you’d told us your plan earlier,” she chastised with a frown. “It’s a fine idea, but you really should have been practicing months ago.”

Harry shrugged. “I know, but I was researching to see if it was possible. It didn’t make any sense to try if there was no way it’d work.”

“True.” Ginny watched Harry for a moment as he sat with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. “You look all in, Harry,” she said with concern.

“I feel all in,” Harry admitted. “I thought that we got enough sleep. But we got up early and met with Neville, and that was really tense, you know? And I’ve been running all over the house since then.” He opened his eyes and looked up at Ginny. “We need someone else to go with us against Voldemort. Three people just isn’t enough.”

“I know, I feel the same way,” Ginny agreed, letting some of her nervousness show. “Before the new plan, I always assumed that it would be the two of us, Ron and Hermione. And that felt right, with four people. But you and me and Neville… we’re short a person. But there’s not really anyone else who’s right to come along.”

“I know,” Harry said, frowning. “But there has to be someone. I can just tell. We’ll have to reconsider, and pick someone.”

“And it has to be soon, too,” he added. “Everything’s come together so quickly—Oliver’s done an amazing job of reworking the battle plan for Diagon Alley so everyone’s spread out well. Angelina, Alicia and Katie’s plan is great, and they’re ready to go at a second’s notice. So’s Hermione, and Hagrid and Grawp. Most everyone in the D.A.’s quit their jobs, and Diagon Alley’s been emptying out and shutting down since there’s no customers for the shops. Everyone’s been practicing their Patronuses and other spells. We’ve got the Horcruxes destroyed. We could be ready to do it tomorrow.”

“Except that you need at least a few days of practice once that package gets here,” Ginny said sharply.

Harry winced and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. I have to know that it works—I have to see it happen, or we can’t know that it’ll work on Voldemort.” Remembering something, Harry took a look at his watch and groaned. “And I have to meet with some of the others to talk over their part of the plan, starting in twenty minutes—it’s the last few, thank Merlin.”

“Who’s left?” Ginny asked.

“Seamus first, I think, and then Dean, then Sally-Ann, and then I have to go down to the basement and to meet with Justin and then Pansy. Pansy’s not going to be happy that I’m taking Justin away from helping her with the last few batches of potions either, but there wasn’t a better time to meet with him. And I still have no idea how Pansy’s thinking right now about the battle.”

Ginny smiled sympathetically. “Would it help if I took over for Justin while you’re meeting with him? I should have the time, after I check on Fred and George’s progress on the walkee-talkees, but before giving Hannah, Susan and Terry a crash course in the Permanent Self-Punching Hex.”

Harry looked at Ginny gratefully. “I love you, you know that?”

“I’d gotten that impression,” Ginny teased. “What did you mean about Pansy and what she’s thinking about the battle?”

“Oh—I’m just not sure what she thinks about fighting against Death Eaters,” Harry said. “I know she’s opposed to them in principle, but she’s not the sort to stand and fight, you know?

“Hmm. Well, I guess you’ll have to ask her,” Ginny said, which didn’t really help.

“Yeah, I’d figured that out,” Harry said ironically.

Ginny grinned, but it faded quickly as Harry’s expression remained troubled. “Is something else wrong?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “It’s just—it’s too soon, Gin. We’ve spent all this time preparing for the big final showdown, we’ve worked really hard to come up with ways to get us all through it alive—but now we’re only days away and it’s really clear to me that it’s never going to be enough preparation, no matter what we do. I don’t want to go into the fight second-guessing myself, but I just don’t see how to avoid it.”

Ginny nodded. “You’re wondering if another five months of preparation would make things safer?”

“Well, partly, but there’s another problem right there—we’ve only been at this for five months! The first war lasted years, and even then Voldemort wasn’t beaten—he just got careless when it came to me. Dumbledore and the Order didn’t manage to figure out how to beat Voldemort, and neither did the Ministry, then or now. So why should we think that we’ve got such a better chance?”

“No one knew about the Horcruxes during the first war,” Ginny pointed out immediately. “And you and Dumbledore were the only ones who knew this time, until he died. The Order and the Ministry couldn’t beat Voldemort during either war, even though they probably thought that they could. We have the benefit of knowledge, Harry. We know something more than anyone else, and it’s the real difference. Voldemort was literally unkillable, but with the Horcruxes destroyed he’s simply a very powerful wizard. Dumbledore was more powerful, and he was killed—that proves that Voldemort can be killed as well. At least, now he can.”

Harry’s brow unfurrowed slowly as he considered what Ginny had said. “That’s true,” he admitted. “Having that knowledge does make everything different. Of course, I’d still rather—”

Harry was cut off by a pounding on the door. He jumped to his feet—whoever was outside was desperate to get in. “What’s happened?” Ginny asked with fear in her voice.

Oh Merlin, not now, Harry thought as he sprinted across the room, Ginny right behind him. Now when we’re so close…

Harry grasped the handle and yanked the door open. Pansy was standing outside, and had only stopped banging on the door when it opened. Neville was right behind her, out of breath. “What is it?” Harry asked instantly, certain something terrible had happened. “Is everyone—”

Pansy shoved Harry back into the room, fisting the front of his shirt. “You fucking bastard!” she shouted right in Harry’s face.

“Wh-what?” Harry stammered. He’d seen Pansy angry before, but never like this: her normally pale face was flushed, and her eyes were blazing. Plus, he’d never known her to use physical violence—she much preferred cutting words, or hexes when absolutely necessary. The only time she’d hit someone in Harry’s knowledge was when Harry had told her that he’d Obliviated Neville.

Neville…Harry glanced over Pansy’s shoulder at Neville, who’d also stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. Neville looked paler than usual, but not particularly surprised by what was happening. “I guess Neville told you,” Harry said to Pansy.

“He’s not doing it!” Pansy snarled. “I don’t give a damn whether you have a death wish, but you’re not pulling Neville down with you!”

“If I didn’t think we could win—” Harry started.

“You CAN’T win, you delusional halfwit!” Pansy shrieked, so violently that Harry took a hasty step back—or would have, if Pansy hadn’t been almost strangling him with his collar. “Three barely-adult wizards against The Dark Lord? You might as well give the Last Rites plant a friendly hug! Ever since I signed on for this farce you’ve systematically stripped away everything in my life I value! I was disowned from my fortune and birthright, then my parents died, and then my family name and honor were rendered meaningless! After everything you’ve taken from me, I’m not going to let you take the one thing left in my life that matters!”

“Pansy,” Neville said with surprising calm, “Harry didn’t order me to do this.”

Pansy’s head whipped around and she stared incredulously at Neville. “What?” she gasped.

“Harry didn’t order me to go with him and Ginny to face Voldemort,” Neville repeated as he walked over, took Pansy’s hands and pried them gently off of Harry’s shirt. “I tried to tell you upstairs. Harry asked. He explained what he planned to do, and he gave me a choice.”

Pansy shook her head like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “And you said yes,” she muttered fatalistically.

Neville nodded. “Harry’s come up with a really good plan, and I think that it’ll work. And I don’t think I could have said no, anyway.”

“Of course you could have!” Pansy said, her voice tight with emotion. “Here, I’ll show you: ‘You want me to what, Potter? Hell no, you’re out of your bloody mind—’”

“Stop it, Pansy,” Neville interrupted firmly. “Give me a little credit, will you? I didn’t exactly leap at the chance, you know! Just the idea of it scares me a ton!”

“It should!” Pansy shouted. “Because you’re going to die! Voldemort’s going to kill you! And then—”

Although Pansy didn’t finish her comment, it was clear from what she had said what she was thinking. Evidently Neville thought so too; he held tightly to Pansy’s hands even though she was trying to pull them away. “We have to try,” he said softly. “If we don’t, then Voldemort will be after us forever and we’d die sooner rather than later anyway. But with Voldemort actually killable now, there’s a real chance that—”

“What?” Pansy interrupted, looking up sharply at Neville. “What? ‘Actually killable’? You—Potter told you?” She turned to look at Harry. “You told him about the—?”

“The Horcruxes, yeah,” Harry confirmed. “I had to, it was only fair.”

“He told me everything,” Neville said, recapturing Pansy’s attention. “Harry was completely honest about everything—it’s something you get used to, being a Gryffindor,” he added sardonically.

Pansy pursed her lips but didn’t respond to the jibe. “Three of you aren’t a match for Voldemort,” she whispered.

“Come with us, then,” Ginny said out of nowhere.

“What?” Harry, Pansy and Neville all asked at once.

“Come with us, Pansy,” Ginny repeated firmly. “We’ve been talking about how we need another person along, and I think you’re the right person.”

“You Gryffindors’ complete lack of any sense of self-preservation hasn’t rubbed off on me that much!” Pansy retorted, yanking her hands out of Neville’s grasp. “You can’t fight him and survive!”

“Why not?” Neville asked. “Harry’s done it a bunch of times.”

“Five times, actually,” Harry added.

“Yes, and Diggory was just as lucky, was he?” Pansy shot back cruelly. “Not everyone has your Charmed life, Potter!”

“Prophesied life,” Harry corrected, forcing himself to stay calm and not react to Pansy’s mention of Cedric. “My life is prophesied, not Charmed. And just because I’ve escaped Voldemort before, that doesn’t mean I’m going to take it for granted.”

“Another plan?” Pansy sneered derisively.

“That’s right,” Harry confirmed steadily. “You know about the Horcruxes, Pansy—you know they’ve been destroyed, or at least transformed into something else. Voldemort’s as mortal as any of us—now it’s just a matter of out-thinking him.”

To Harry’s surprise, Pansy didn’t instantly deride his ability to out-think Voldemort—instead, her expression shifted from fearful and furious to thoughtful. “That… might not be impossible,” she conceded in a soft voice after a moment. “Merlin knows Voldemort hasn’t exactly come across as clever when dealing with you lot in the past…” She shook her head. “But nor are you even a little cunning!” she snapped at Harry.

“Harry’s done all right so far,” Neville protested. “You said yourself that it was clever of him to have Seamus pretend to hate us so he could spy for us…” he trailed off under the force of Pansy’s glare.

“I noticed a long time ago that Voldemort doesn’t think things through very well,” Harry said. “And when he does plan, he ends up making it all too convoluted.”

“Kind of like you, then!”

Harry grimaced. “There was a lot to consider in Diagon Alley. The plan for dealing with Voldemort is a lot simpler.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “You’re not going to be anywhere near Diagon Alley, are you?”

“No,” Harry answered, shaking his head. “I didn’t want anything distracting us while I deal with him.”

“While you deal with him!” Pansy snapped. “I didn’t check my sanity at the door when I signed on here, Potter! I’d sooner tap-dance through the Weasley twins’ minefield, or lie in the path of that oaf half-giant’s half brother! Either is less dangerous! Or better yet, why not cast the Killing Curse on myself? That would be less painful!”

She spun to leave, but pulled up short when her eyes met Neville’s. After struggling with herself a moment, Pansy spoke gently: “You don’t have to do it.”

Neville took a deep breath. “I know,” he answered. “None of us have to, not even Harry. But if we don’t, Voldemort will win. And if he does, then we’ll all die, or spend the rest of our lives running. There are people I care too much about to not try and protect like this: all my friends, my parents, my gran. You,” he said, blushing, but not nearly as much as Pansy did. “So I kind of do have to. And this, what Harry’s set up, is probably the best chance we’ll get—maybe the only chance. So I’m going to do it. I’d like it if you were there to help, too,” he added, “because I think you’re smart and clever and you’d improve our chances a lot. But you don’t have to either. Harry gave me the choice, and I bet that you get to choose too.”

Harry nodded, although no one was looking at him. Pansy was gazing at Neville like she could barely understand what he’d said. Neville fell silent, having told Pansy what he needed to.

For a very long time, no one said anything. Watching Pansy’s expression as she fought internally with herself, Harry found himself feeling sorry for her. Over the past few months she had been forced to challenge every belief she’d ever harbored, and found that the person she’d become was someone she wasn’t proud of. Most of the beliefs she’s spent her entire life following and defending she’d discovered were wanting, and she’d had no choice but to remake herself completely, something Harry was all too familiar with. He’d had to do the same thing, rediscover who he really was, when he’d found out he was actually a wizard. He’d been excited at the time, but also frightened, when he’d looked into the future of himself and realized he didn’t have any idea what was there. If it had been difficult for him, at only eleven years old and happy to leave behind the horrible life of the black sheep in the Dursleys’ home, it had to be a thousand times more terrifying for Pansy.

Finally, Pansy dropped her eyes. Fidgeting with a button on her shirt, she had a couple of false starts before she managed to speak; “This so-called plan of yours, Potter,” she murmured faintly. “How exactly does it work?”