177 Chapter 177: Race Against Destiny

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I would like to thank my beta, Akisu, for his help in this chapter.

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15 January 1994, Hogwarts

Neville Longbottom stood in the freezing weather doing his best not to appear nervous; the warming charm he had applied to his tournament clothes was barely able to stop him from shivering constantly. The boy who lived really wanted to punch Dumbledore in the face for sending them out on the Black Lake in the middle of winter.

He didn't know what Dumbledore expected by making the first task at this time of year. The weather and the rest of the climatic conditions were typical of the Scottish winters at Hogwarts, which meant that the sky was grey with no sun. The wind was very strong, with a horrible bite that sometimes even overcame Neville's warming charm.

Just like Zabini and Davis stated, only the second half of the lake looked frozen, while the first one was still liquid with various wooden platforms there to stand on. It was surprising that the Slytherins told them what they knew about the task. Apparently, they were able to communicate with someone from the outside or something. Neville didn't really believe it; they were too descriptive about the task. However, while he was curious, Harry's friends were going out of their way to be helpful, and that was enough.

Students in his year didn't understand just how unfair this was for them. They were going through the same trials as students four years older than them, and with far more magical experience. No matter how much they would like to deny it, the spectators would be making comparisons. At least, that was the reason that Zabini stated when he told them about the task.

And the information was surprisingly helpful. They would not be taken by surprise, even if the course would still be more than challenging enough for most of his classmates.

But this was still an opportunity.

An opportunity for the world to see how good he has become. To forget about the shame of his breakdown last year and focus on his magical prowess.

For Harry to see how much he improved, that Neville would not hold him down.

To be perfectly honest, Harry was one of the main reasons Neville didn't have another breakdown in the previous semester. Their Runes sessions with Susan Bones were the highlight of his weeks. He was just so alone all the time and his mind tended to wander towards dangerous places.

They have ever since he unlocked his magical crest.

Ever since that day, he had been outwardly calmer, but he knew that inside, he was constantly raging. There was this voice in the back of his head, constantly telling him to destroy everything, to kill everyone who ever insulted him… Even now, he was suppressing the urge to burn every single classmate of his, who abandoned him when he needed them, for the whispers of madness they utter behind his back.

He shook his head and suppressed his rage once more. He had to focus on the task at hand, focus on winning…

At the announcement seat, Neville recognized Ludo Bagman sitting in his ridiculously undersized Quidditch Robes. He had looked up to the man, once. A Quidditch player that rose high in the ministry, at least until his grandmother told him that the man was a buffoon that was friendly and corrupt enough to rise in the ministry in a frankly useless department that barely did anything but manage the British Quidditch league.

The former beater's voice was loud and grating, "Good! Good! The third-year students are all in attendance, meaning that we can begin our last race before the finals. And wasn't that a joyful ride? We have seen wonderful feats of magic, of athleticism, of ingenuity and trickery. We have seen wonders that would make Merlin himself sit up and take notice. And now, it's the turn of the third years, the youngest of our competitors, but no less skilled for their youth. Among them, is Neville Longbottom, the boy who lived, a name that needs no introduction. Remember, everything is allowed except dark magic, and it's all about the speed. The first three who make it across the icy depths of the Black Lake, navigating through the slippery obstacles and chilling waters, will earn their spot in the final showdown."

The crowd roared in approval, and for the first time, Neville looked at the spectators. There were hundreds if not thousands of faces just looking down at them from the stands at the edge of the lake. He stifled his nervousness and looked towards Harry, "Scared, Potter?"

The young Slytherin simply shrugged, "Not really. Outside of getting cold or wet, public embarrassment is the worst that could happen. Their expectations are probably low after the fourth years. They aren't really the brightest students in Hogwarts and that's me being respectful. McLaggen alone lowers the intelligence of anyone around him by his mere presence."

Neville suppressed a snort, "Thanks, you know, for telling us about the task."

"Believe it or not, it was all Tracy and Blaise. They're the ones who figured it out by themselves and they were the ones to tell you. We've all been saddled in this together."

"I'm sorry about that, by the way."

Harry gave him a questioning look, "Why are you sorry exactly?"

"Well, they probably included our year because of me. The publicity about the boy who lived competing would have increased ticket sales by a very large margin. There were even demands that our Quidditch matches be available for the public, but Dumbledore said that it would be an unsafe environment for the students."

Harry chuckled, "Unsafe environment? Is he seriously talking about the same school that had a Cerberus, an army of Acromantula in the forbidden forest, a troll attack, a possessed professor, and a series of serial petrifications?"

"I suppose it does sound ridiculous…"

"But don't feel guilty about it. All you did was survive an attack when you were a baby, no one could blame you for that. So, just try to do your best."

"See you on the other side, Potter," he responded, "Who knows, I might even beat you to the finish line."

The last Potter gave him a sly grin, "In your dreams Longbottom," before returning to a conversation with Greengrass.

And a few seconds later, he was ambushed by his housemates, specifically Ron Weasley, his former friend, "What were you talking to Potter about?"

"Just said thank you for the help before the task…"

The redhead grumbled, "I still don't trust them. They could be lying to get ahead."

"Ahead of what? They said that it was an obstacle course in the Black Lake and that the first half was water and the second one in ice. Potter even taught us the ice walking spell."

"It could be a fake spell to slow us down," he protested.

"You know what? I'm tired of this. Do what you like, Ron, but I have better things to worry about than your paranoia about anything to do with Slytherins."

He did not try have time to hear the redhead's retort because the cannon fired signaling the start of the task. Neville ran forward and saw one of the wooden platforms at the end of the lake. He pointed his wand at one of them and bellowed, "Accio!"

The summoning charm was a fourth-year spell, but his grandmother had drilled him with useful spells ever since he returned for the winter holidays. Apparently, she wanted to make sure that he wouldn't embarrass the Longbottom name or something. She taught him common spells that could be useful for Obstacle courses, like the push and pull spell, the slowing charm, the ascending charm and a lot more. Neville's skill in magic did progress very well since he awakened his family crest.

It was weird, and not something he ever heard about. Every new spell felt more like he was relearning a new skill than anything else. It was even the same with Runes. Neville did learn Hieroglyphs far quicker than he thought it would, and he had to visibly restrain himself, lest the project end quickly, and Harry would stop spending time with him.

Perhaps it was something that everyone with a crest shared. As far as he knew, most people unlocked their crests around their eleventh birthday. They rarely do have a magical education that they could compare their progress to, but if that was the standard, then perhaps Harry's proficiency in magic did make sense. And that was even outside the spells in his magical crest.

Back to the task, Neville quickly jumped towards the fast-moving platform and muttered a temporary sticking cham to not fall over. Just as quickly, he pointed his wand on the still-moving platform and rotated it in an anti-clockwise direction while muttering, "Reverso Momentum!"

The platform stopped midway for a fraction of a second, before reversing in the opposite direction. It was a nice duelling spell that he learned in the library, a variation of the slowing and the freezing charms, but still very useful.

Neville suppressed a snort when he saw Ron trying to jump on his platform, only to miss it and fall into the freezing water. He saw a spell coming at him from the corner of his eye, from Nott of all people, which he barely dodged, and retaliated with a banishing charm, which sent him and a lot of his friends flying away, probably into the water.

From a glance, the Longbottom scion saw that Zabini, Davis, and Greengrass were casting wind charms from their platforms to move around, a good idea that he emulated very quickly. They were ahead of him, but it was still very close. He was still in the race.

He gaped when he saw giant tentacles attack the Slytherins, but it did provide an opportunity. They were probably going to be fine anyway. Neville increased his speed, only for his platform to hit something and almost topple over.

He was barely able to grip the wooden platform in time. He tried to cast another wind charm, but he still did not move. He definitely didn't have time to react to the giant push of water that sent him flying up into the air. He knew that landing would hurt, and he was probably going to be out of the race.

That was unacceptable.

In a desperate attempt, he pointed his wand and cast, "Ascendio!"

The ascension charm was a very useful spell that could only be used if you were touching some kind of surface. Just like that, Neville was propelled even further in the air, and he pointed his wand at the surface of the ice while yelling, "Carpe Retractum!"

The seize-and-pull charm could be often used to pull the castor towards a stationary target. Neville was flying down towards the surface of the ice, and yelled, "Arresto Momentum!", just before reaching the ground. He stopped just a foot above the frozen portion of the lake and fell down with a thud.

Everything hurt, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Neville slowly got up, limping slightly. He looked down and saw a small shard of wood sticking from his leg. It wasn't severe in any way, and he ripped it out quickly, but it still stung.

He quickly used Harry's charm to not slip on the ice and ran forward. He was going to win this fucking race. He was halfway through the ice when the storm appeared, practically out of nowhere. The icy wind was making walking very difficult, enough for Neville to need the use of a shield charm. Of course, that was when the icicles started to petter his shield.

Honestly, if he was a lesser person, he would have given up then and there. However, for all his faults, Neville was stubborn to a fault. He had something to prove, and he would not stop at any time.

Every time his shield broke, he cast another one. Every time, an icicle managed to break through, and he started bleeding, he simply walked even quicker. And just like that, the storm disappeared leaving only a trail of fog between him and the finish line, just like Zabini said it would be. He pointed his wand towards the end goal and marked the direction with his wand. He then muttered, "Point me!"

He would not get lost in the fog with the wand acting as his guide. Sometimes, he would get pushed around, something would hit it, and he would try to curse it, but, in the end, he still carried on, one step at a time towards the vaunted finishing line.

He didn't know how long it took for him to get there, but he finally did it. He ran towards the finishing line, and as expected, the spectators roared in approval.

He had won. Finally, he had shown the world what he could do, that he was more than just a title than a lucky child that survived a curse, that he wasn't insane.

Of course, that was what he thought before he saw Potter, standing unconcerned with a broom on his shoulders. Where Neville was bruised, Potter looked like he just had a lovely stroll around. And from the brooms, he realized just what he had done. The bastard flew over the fucking obstacles, somehow. Neville thought they weren't allowed anything other than their wands.

And to put more salt into the injury, Zabini, Davis, and Greengrass were also there, although far more bruised, and exhausted. He had come fifth. Fucking FIFTH!

Harry Potter gave him a cheeky grin, "Well, it seems I won our little race. Don't be sad, though, fifth place isn't bad…

It was very hard to silence the voice in the back of his head that wanted to see the world burn. At least he passed out before he could do anything rash.

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I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.