What Worst can happen to Neville?

Neville, as soon as he was pulled into empty corridor, was about to panic and almost scream in fright when he spotted a familiar face standing directly in front of him.

"Harry…" he muttered shakily, the anxiety and nervousness in his eyes unmistakable. This sudden action from Harry had frightened him too much.

"Neville," Harry replied calmly.

"What are you doing?" Neville asked.

He tried to take deep breaths in an attempt to steady and calm his nerves as he also glanced around nervously.

"You promised you'd help me," Harry said with a raised eyebrow, as if to remind Neville, "that had not you made a promise."

"Yes, I did," Neville stammered in fright, "but you need help right now…"

The thought of what he would have to do and what lay ahead filled him with dread; From the moment Harry had asked to accompany him in the night, he had wished that he had never made that promise to Harry.

And what he feared the most? Well he feared the incoming but he dreaded, the most, being a burden- a liability to his friend.

"Now come," Harry said with a smile as he tugged Neville by the sleeve.

"But Harry—" Neville tried to protest, but Harry had already pulled him along.

"It's curfew," Neville said as he almost trembled. "If Filch catches us, we're doomed."

"Yes," Harry chuckled, "and that's why we must act in silence and not be seen."

"But where are we going? And can't we wait until daytime? You can do whatever you want during the day," Neville pressed.

"No, Neville," Harry replied. "It must be done at night. Now keep quiet. You ask too many questions."

With that, Harry beckoned for Neville to follow.

Neville said nothing further, remaining alert and on edge and silently followed behind Harry.

Minutes later, the duo arrived at one of Hogwarts' 'iconic places'- the girls' bathroom on the second floor.

"Harry, why are we here?" Neville asked as he shuddered.

Neville had long heard the tales of a ghost girl- Moaning Myrtle roaming inside this very bathroom. And he was not very keen, was extremely reluctant to encounter a ghost. Besides, he still had no idea what Harry intended.

Fortunately for both of them, Moaning Myrtle did not make an appearance. Perhaps she was preoccupied with her some other mysterious business, if she had any.

"Neville," Harry whispered, "have you heard the rumour about a girl who went missing during our second year?"

"Yes," Neville stammered. "I remember at the end of the year; you and Ron were awarded extra points for some special service to the school."

"They said you rescued her," he added.

"Exactly," Harry said. "Now I'm going to show you something interesting."

Before Neville could process Harry's words, he whispered and a strange sound emerged from Harry's mouth—Parseltongue it was. At that moment, the washbasin in the middle of the bathroom split apart, revealing a hidden entrance.

"Come on, Neville," Harry urged, pulling the horrified Neville along.

The Longbottom heir had barely any time to react; he had heard the legends of a secret room of Salazar Slytherin at Hogwarts, one that harboured a dangerous creature and from which no one had ever emerged alive.

Now, that very entrance lay open before him, and Harry Potter had led him inside.

"Harry," Neville managed to say as his wits returned, only to find himself suspended in mid-air. He was not, at least, making a free fall. Harry's magic was gradually descending him to the ground, which he was obviously unaware of.

"Well," Harry mused, "we might have had a staircase, but that doesn't matter now."

Soon, they landed safely. Neville, however, was too frightened to move.

"Harry," he pleaded, "is this Slytherin's secret room?"

Harry gave a nod confirming Neville's fear.

"I don't think it's safe here," Neville said. "We must leave."

Neville grew frantic, muttering about escaping the chamber. The encroaching darkness only worsened his fear.

"Neville…" Harry's firm voice interrupted his panic as a flame erupted from his fingers, illuminating the entire chamber.

"Are you really that much of a coward?" Harry's echoing question wasn't filled with ridicule but genuine concern. "What, at worst, can happen? You might die?"

"But is death really the worst?" Harry's voice grew louder, and Neville felt the weight of his words strike him hard.

"No," Harry boomed. "What worst can happen to you… I will tell it…"

Harry leaned forward and his eyes glowed green in the dark chamber.

"The worst that can happen is that if and when fate wills it," he said, "and you somehow face Bellatrix Lestrange and the Lestrange brothers, you cannot kill them."

"Let alone kill," Harry mocked, "I doubt, if you could even face them without your legs shaking and your body trembling."

"The darkness is enough to make you tremble and it makes so obvious that what the presences of the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange will do to you."

"The worst what can happen in your life is not death Neville," Harry boomed. "The worst that can happen is that when the killers of your parents stand in front of you… you cannot do nothing."

"You will tremble in fear."

"You will not have the ability to seek vengeance."

"You will be a coward."

Enraged, Neville roared and threw a punch at Harry's face. However, Harry intercepted the blow effortlessly and countered with a punch of his own, catching Neville off-guard. In an instant, the Longbottom heir went unconscious and collapsed to the ground.

Staring at Neville's unconscious form, Harry wore a stupefied expression.

"How can he be so weak?" he wondered, shaking his head. "Perhaps igniting his passion alone isn't enough."

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