Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin

Chapter 17: Interlude by the Lake Shore

4 November 1991

Harry could only stare at Neville in barely-concealed horror as other boy calmly recounted the various incidents in which his uncle had tampered with his memories, usually in the aftermath of a failed murder attempt. The two were sitting together on the bank of the Black Lake just after lunch on the afternoon of Neville's return to school. Amazingly, the truth had only come out by sheer dumb luck: Augusta Longbottom, annoyed at the apparent loss of the Longbottom family Rememberall, wrote to her cousin Barty Crouch Sr. and asked if she could borrow his old one for Neville's use (hence its old-fashioned design). Crouch Sr. had no surviving heirs of his own, and in light of the reason he had no surviving heirs, he could hardly refuse Augusta's request to borrow the expensive but no longer useful antique. Algie had no idea that Neville had acquired a Rememberall until the aurors came for him. He blustered a bit at first, but when he learned that Neville had supplied certified pensieve copies of his recovered memories, he broke down and confessed.

"So, what's going to happen to him?" asked Harry. "Will there be a trial?"

Neville shook his head. "Gran and I ... spent a lot of time talking about it. She wanted him dragged before the Wizengamot in chains."

"But not you."

He sighed. "After everything, I don't really ... hate Uncle Algie. I'm... disgusted by him, but I'm not going to waste the effort of hatred. And besides, his children and grandchildren didn't know anything about what he'd been doing. He confirmed that under Veritaserum. Reginald and Enid are both fine people with families of their own, and they've always been very good to me. They love their father and don't deserve to be publicly shamed with a scandal like that. Plus, what he did would have been worth twenty years in Azkaban at least, and at his age, he wouldn't have lasted six months. I don't think I could ever face them if I'd sent their father to die a miserable slow death at the hands of Dementors."

Harry looked away for a few seconds. He had no idea what it was like to have family worth caring about ... or one that cared about him. It was ... baffling. "So what will happen," he asked.

"We have a plea agreement that is magically sanctioned and under seal with the DMLE. He steps down as my regent in favor of Gran. He turns all of his British and continental business interests over to his children, and he swears a Unbreakable Vow that he will never again directly or indirectly try to harm me or anyone under my protection or otherwise try to interfere with the affairs of House Longbottom. Then, he will retire to manage a mandrake farm in the Australian Outback with a single house elf and a small monthly stipend. And if he ever sets foot on British soil again, he gets prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Which, in light of his confession, will probably be a Dementor's Kiss."

"No offense, Neville," said Harry, "but you're taking this awfully well."

"Says the guy who laughed at a Howler in front of the whole school," he replied with a chuckle. "I know I should be furious, and, I dunno, maybe at some point it will hit me. But right now... All my life, I thought I was nothing, a squib, a disgrace to my parents' memory. I hated myself so much I nearly let Algie talk me into suicide when I was eight. But to find out that it wasn't me, that I could do magic the whole time, but I was being ... sabotaged. Honestly, the sheer relief is just crowding everything else."

He grinned almost infectiously and pulled out his wand – his wand, the one the aurors had recovered from the Longbottom vault where Algie had hidden it – and pointed it at a nearby rock. "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" he intoned. The rock shot off like a cannon, emitting a trail of smoke and sparks behind it, and landed in the middle of the lake. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, while Neville coughed bashfully.