Harry was not concerned about his clothes and dived below the water. The shock of cold tickled his nerves and the flood of despair and darkness vanished from his mind. Harry hovered there for a long moment, embraced in the calming cold of the water. He grabbed a few clusters of the dark, slimy plant and brought them back up.
"This it?" He gasped. Neville inspected it and bottled the plant.
"Yup! Thanks, Harry. You can keep this one," he offered.
"I think it'll come in handy pretty soon," Harry said, taking the filled container gratefully. The second task involved reaching the bottom of the lake, and he could use some in case he gets burned by the dragon. "Is there any more nearby?"
They searched the area quietly for a long while. They weren't forbidden from swimming in the lake, but they were not encouraged to either, and Harry was swarmed and bitten by a variety of gross things. But Harry was kept grounded by the bracing chill so he dove under the water without complaint. It was a reminder that he was alive. All his senses blasted with information. Shivering and struggling. It was just what he'd needed.
"This was great, thanks Nev," Harry said.
"Are you sure you're alright, Harry? You've seemed frustrated lately. Of course, you're going through a lot, it's understandable."
"Yeah, I wish it was just the tournament, but it's not. Everything's going wrong all at the same time," Harry admitted.
"I'm sorry. If you want to vent, I'm down to listen. I know, uh, things have been tense in the common room, and I'm sorry I haven't said anything yet, but I do believe you, you know. About not putting your name in. And I uh, never said thanks for helping me out with Umbridge. If you hadn't helped then we wouldn't have gotten all that evidence against her and she might have hurt a bunch of other kids."
"Don't worry about it -"
"No, seriously. You and Professor Adams have been very kind to me. No one else really is. I appreciate it."
"Would you have ever imagined, back when we had Snape, that you'd be out here doing extra credit potions work, for fun!" Harry joked. But Neville did not fall for his trap to lessen the seriousness of the conversation. Instead, he tugged on another batch of gillyweed and jarred it. His shoulders heaved and he turned to face Harry with a very intense expression out of place on the boy's usual timid demeanor.
"And I never thanked you for the other thing. For… for Lestrange."
Harry ducked his head down to stare at the water.
"What do you mean?"
"Bellatrix Lestrange. She's dead. I've never told you, but she - she hurt my parents. Tortured them to insanity. That's the reason she was in Azkaban in the first place. How did she die? Was it you or Sirius Black?"
"It - it wasn't Sirius. But it wasn't - "
"Harry."
Harry looked up. Neville still had that intense expression.
"Did she suffer?" His voice cracked at the last word.
"Yes," Harry whispered. "It wasn't me. But I - I know who - and it was violent. She suffered a great deal, Neville. All the dead in Azkaban did."
"Good." Neville plucked another gillyweed as though they were merely discussing the weather.
"You don't care?" Harry asked. Of all people - nervous, bleeding-heart Neville - but no, he didn't look the part now. Neville's expression was twisted, serious.
"About what? That you're a Dark Lord in training? You're going to fight You-Know-Who, aren't you? I don't care what it takes or how you do it. The Death Eaters liked to torture innocent people, they left children orphaned. They didn't care that either of us were infants."
"I'm not a Dark Lord in training," was all Harry could say.
"What are you, then?"
"Someone forced into this mess against his will."
Harry sat in the water. His jeans rubbed and weighed down against his legs. The water was cold and he welcomed the shivering. Alive - he was alive. He dug his fingers into the thick sandy mud and words tumbled from his lips.
Voldemort. Tournaments. Ministries. Horcruxes. Death. Pressure weighing down harder and more suffocating than the weight of his bloated clothing. That was the problem. Harry was drowning and his head hadn't even gone under the water yet.
"Damn. That's pretty shitty," Neville said once Harry had run out of words. "I'm not sure what to say. I hadn't guessed the necromancy part. Huh. That makes a lot of sense, looking back…" he trailed off, pensive.
"I'm not sure why I told you."
"I think you needed to let it out. That's - that's a lot. You have every right to be scared."
"I'm not scared!"
"I mean, you probably should be. It's not a bad thing, Harry. I'm scared, and I'm not even you." Neville sighed and slowly dragged his feet over to where Harry was sitting. They watched the thick clouds move over the sun streaking reds and oranges across the darkening sky. "At the World Cup… I was terrified. I've told you what I experienced. I thought they would come after me and my grandmother, that they would torture me just like they did to -" He stopped, letting loose a heavy sigh that revealed maturity well beyond his years and demeanor.
The boy continued. "I guess they thought they could distract us with this tournament. Like we'd all forget about the horrors that we witnessed. But nothing can hide the truth, can it? He's trying to return. We might have another war. And you'll have to fight several battles at once. Pah! They think they distract us with extra Quidditch games and dancing, but we aren't really children anymore, are we?"
They made their way to dinner.
.....
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