In The Dark [Book Four]

Chapter Three:

Chapter Three:

My first several days at Hogwarts were spent ignoring the mural in Gryffindor Tower, as if my mind felt that if I couldn't see it then it would simply stop existing but I knew that wasn't the case. I knew that the mural would be there every morning when I woke up and every night I fell asleep. It was a nightmare I could not escape.

It was a painting that should include me but didn't and if I could just find out why, I wouldn't be nearly as terrorized by them. It seemed as if their eyes were judging me, constantly, Colin's brown eyes haunted me even in my dreams as did my Godfather's green ones. They screamed at me to join them and I knew that a part of me would not be whole until I had.

It was the afterlife calling to me, telling me that I no longer belonged in the world of the living. If I were a decent human being, I would have given in to the calls of the damned and I would have jumped from the Astronomy Tower in the very beginning.

I was not a good person, I didn't care that I should be dead, I was simply glad that I had another chance to finish my list.  The list of those who had wronged me and deserved to die.  I was haunted by the death of family, of friends and attempting to be a better witch but even still.. Dolores Umbridge deserved to die.  One more person dead could not hurt, especially as it was one such as her.  

I was glad to have my chance with Neville, to see Hermione in a new light of friendship, to have Ginny by my side yet that would not stop me...  once I felt my life was fulfilled, then I would let the fall destroy me.  Until then, however, the Astronomy Tower would have to wait.  

*

Breakfast was a usually dull affair; I sat at the Gryffindor table with Ginny and Hermione in the morning and reserved the Slytherin table for supper time.  Mornings consisted of toast and jam, occasionally eggs or oatmeal or some other traditional breakfast food that I wouldn't bother eating.  All I could shove down my throat on the best of days was a half slice of buttered toast but most days I'd eat nothing at all.  

It would be my second day of having Potions class with Professor Inigo; she was quite an odd person who acted as though she hadn't even the slightest of clues what had happened the last couple of years.  The first two hours we'd spent with her, yesterday, was all about an introduction to the class.  She let us know what sort of ingredients we would be working with, what sort of poisons and antidotes we would learn to make and perhaps it came as a surprise to her when her seventh years knew how to make every poison known in our workbooks.  

Most sixth and fifth years would know it too, I was sure.  We had spent all last year brewing poisons and learning how slowly and painfully it could kill you without an antidote.  We had all ingested these poisons, learning how Hemlock was not only good in making Doxycide but also in making you feel as though your insides were on fire until you were sure that you, in your entirety, would burst into flames that would swallow you whole and spit you out as ash.  

The Moonseed Poison, made primarily of moonseed as the name would suggest, let you feeling sluggish and tired until it became too hard to so much as breath.  The Angel's Trumpet Draught left you feeling delighted about your imminent death; you could feel as though your skin was being carved off your still-living body and be perfectly all right in the fact.  

I could see Inigo feeling awkward as someone explained to her just how we knew all these things.  She should have known the horrors we had faced just last year in school and yet she had no idea.. Needless to say I did not look forward to the day's class with her but it did not stop me from doing what a student was required to do.  Go to class.

I set my half-eaten toast on the plate before me before gathering up my Potions textbook and making my way to the class despite the fact that it wouldn't start for another twenty minutes at the least.  The halls were quiet, save for a few mutters here and there, and I noted easily enough that people made a path for me.   The Girl Who Came Back To Life was the girl who should be feared, it seemed.  

"Amy!"  

The familiar voice was one I hadn't heard in months, it was filled with apprehension but it soothed my nerves nevertheless.  I let my feet freeze in the middle of the corridor as hurrying footsteps caught up to me.  His hair was a light brown that seemed to grow darker with each passing day that I had seen him sitting at the Professor's table.  His green eyes looked hectic, as if he were grasping about for something to say yet couldn't find the words.  

"Good morning, Professor Longbottom."  

It was the first words I had said to him since I returned to Hogwarts as I didn't take Herbology and had had no reason before now to speak to him despite my unwavering desire to do so.  I wanted to call him Neville and speak to him about everything that had happened between the Battle and now but I knew I had to show him a certain amount of respect, especially as we were in a corridor that wasn't quite hidden from the prying eyes of students.

Neville, however, didn't seem to care who saw; he let his muscled arms wrap around me as if I was the only lifeline he had in this cruel world and it took all I had within me not to collapse into him and let him shield me away.  

I was not an infant which needed protecting but I reveled in the moment nonetheless.  

"I'm sorry that I didn't speak to you before now I just wasn't sure what to say.  I wasn't aware you were even coming back to Hogwarts so I was probably as shocked as you when we saw each other."   The boy I had known was long gone, before me stood the man but he still sounded just as childish as I remembered him being in my fourth year.  I knew he wasn't, though.  He wasn't childish or pathetic as I had always thought about him until the end of my fifth year, he wasn't lowly or unworthy.. he was brave, intrepid, fearless, dauntless.. Lionhearted.   He had to be, after all, he was the new head of Gryffindor.  

"I missed you," I spoke quietly, my voice muffled in his robes so much so that it was unlikely he could even hear me.  "I'm glad you're here."  

"That's what I was going to say," Neville smiled, small but beautiful all the same.    

"Should we be showing this much affection in the middle of all these students?"  

"Honestly I couldn't care less what they think right now," his voice was huskier than I remembered, and suddently I knew with all certainty that he was going to kiss me.  There was a small group of second years and a larger group of sixth and seventh years staring at us, pointing and whispering about us being here, together.  

I didn't care either but in a moment, his lips were against mine with a confidence even I had never felt in him before.  I didn't care that McGonagall may find out, I didn't care that every student in Hogwarts would know that Amy Potter kissed a professor.  I had never cared but I had been so worried that he would.  

But if righteous Neville Longbottom didn't care who knew then why in the world should wicked Amaryllis?

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[[A/N: OK.  So im not even sure what to do with this Im just screaming internally and I really want amy and neville to be able to show their love for each other despite their professor/student issue but i dont know if mcgonagall would ever allow that.  what do you think she would do?  I imagine she would let it be seeing as it was just after the war and all but at the same time... ehh..  
anyways im honestly not sure if this story is any good, please let me know what you think about it??? also, seeing as this story is being written JUST FOR YOU, THE READERS, let me know what you want to happen and I will see what I can do!]]