The Light in the Dark | Neville Longbottom

Chapter 90: The Dark Truth About Albus Dumbledore

*CW: Mentions of Prostitution, Violence, & Death*

"What was that?" a voice asked harshly from the outskirts of my mind.

"Harry... Leave it alone..." another voice begged.

"No, I won't leave it alone!" the first voice cried, "I heard what I heard!"

Groggily, I recollected myself and opened my eyes. Moments before all the screaming, the three of us had disapparated and landed in the middle of another forest. I hit the ground harshly, nearly having the wind knocked out of me, and struggled to get up. Harry, on the other hand, gathered himself quickly, and was now standing above me angrily.

"What was that, Dawn?" Harry asked coldly.

I cocked my head, "What was what?"

"You told Nagini to give you 'more time'" Harry confronted, "What did you mean by that?"

Shit.

In the moment, I must've forgotten that Harry was also a parselmouth, meaning he understood the conversation between me and Nagini. But from the looks of it, he only heard the ending when I made that false promise — I tended to shout when panicked. He didn't hear her continuously call me a "traitor" though, so it looked like I was somewhat in the clear.

I was just going to have to make Harry look insane. Besides, it wasn't like he knew that Voldemort was my father, and only heirs of Slytherin could speak parseltongue — unless you were Harry Potter and had some "super special" connection to the dark lord. So, there was no actual proof that I could've spoken to Nagini, since they didn't know that I was related to Voldemort or Salazar Slytherin.

"What are you talking about?" I asked confusedly.

"Don't play stupid with me!" Harry spat, "I heard you! You spoke in parseltongue!"

I cocked my head once more, "Erm... What's parseltongue?"

"THE LANGUAGE OF THE SNAKES?" Harry asked rudely, "HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT PARSELTONGUE IS WHEN YOU JUST SPOKE IT!"

"ARE YOU MAD?" I protested, "WHY ON EARTH WOULD I BE SPEAKING TO SNAKES... AND ESPECIALLY TO ONE LIKE NAGINI, WHO JUST TRIED TO KILL THE THREE OF US A FEW MINUTES AGO?"

Hermione groaned loudly, chiming into the argument, "THIS CONVERSATION IS USELESS! SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT IS, HARRY, IT'S TIME TO DROP IT!"

"NO, IT'S NOT!" Harry hissed, getting close to my face, "I KNOW WHAT I HEARD. WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?"

Internally, I panicked, but I was not about to blow my cover... Not like this. I had been getting away with being a deatheater for months, especially during the winter — they stopped pestering me about wearing long-sleeves and coats. Because despite the dreadful mark on my arm, I was on their side. I was on the side of the order. I wanted Voldemort to fall.

"I'M NOT HIDING ANYTHING, POTTER," I scoffed, "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT DESPITE MY MOTHER BEING BELLATRIX LESTRANGE AND, HONESTLY... LIKE RON SAID, MY ENTIRE FAMILY BEING COMPOSED OF DEATHEATERS, THAT I'M STILL BEING HUNTED. MY NAME AND FACE ARE STILL ON THOSE 'WANTED' SIGNS. I... AM... AN... UNDESIRABLE!"

Harry didn't respond; he just angrily huffed and puffed in front of my face. My screaming fit must've torn through his stubbornness a bit. It was the only thing that would've explained his silence. And even though I was lying out of my arse to protect my identity, there was some truth embedded in those lies.

I've disobeyed my father twice now: first at the Ministry of Magic and second in Godric's Hollow. After spending so much time in a deep and numbing depression, my ability to emote and feel has finally returned. I haven't felt this angry in so long. I wasn't upset with Harry or anyone in particular, but more with myself for making such a stupid mistake like that. Talking in parseltongue in front of Harry — when he could understand it — and Hermione — who could differentiate between hissing and talking — was the worst thing I could've done.