Chapter 9. Things Are Not Quite What They Seem.
Her birthday and the few days that followed were a bit of a blur for Nat, the only part that really stood out was the half an hour that she and James sat together under the tree in their grandparents' back garden. Like all the other years, they talked and reaffirmed that special bond that existed between them, but this time Nat knew it was different, because they were both changing. James was growing as any normal boy of his age, with all the distractions that came with it to occupy him, Nat was changing as well, but in her case the changes were more profound, she hoped she was hiding them well, and to her relief they were not noticed by her brother.
The clarity began to return to her life as she stood at the end of her grandparents' garden looking out over the grassy meadow that stretched off into the distance. Nat felt the presence behind her before it made itself known, a warm and comforting sensation washed over her, she knew who it was.
"So, young lady with the brashness of youth you have taken on a task that most would be only too eager to relinquish, but I sense a depth to you that I have not felt before. Maybe that old fool was right after all." Eleanor Wicca eased her old bones down so that she was sitting on the grass; she patted the ground next to her indicating that Nat should take the proffered spot. Nat plopped down cross-legged with the ease of a girl her age; Eleanor gave her a wry look and laughed. "I wish it was so easy for me to do that." She chortled.
"It could be," said Nat, "your appearance doesn't have to be that of an old woman, does it?"
"No, you are correct," the ancient witch pondered for a moment, "no more than you have to remain as you are."
"But this," Nat said, holding out her arms, "is what I am, I could make myself older, but inside I would still be fourteen."
"Good…you do have sense after all," Eleanor congratulated her. "I appear as this old woman because it is the form that most suits my role. I have grown into it, and in the fullness of time you will grow into yours, either naturally or by your own will."
"What happened to Merlin?" The question burst out before Nat could stop herself.
"He has gone to the others; he is happy, do not worry about him." Eleanor said. "He lives where he is most useful, in legend, but wherever he is, he is still an awful old man. He lied to you," she told Nat, "he did help Solomon when he called and he has helped others over the years, but when he gave his gift to you he did more for this world and the people who live on it than I think even he was aware."
That afternoon young Natalie Potter learned more about the affairs of man and wizard kind than she had ever realised existed. The instruction continued, seeming never to pause for a rest, they used up many more hours than there were in a day, and many more days than there were in a year, and Nat began to wonder how this was possible. Then something caught her eye, a simple daisy growing out of the lawn, and suspended in the air next to it was a bee, its wings silent and unmoving as if captured in a photograph. Eleanor had stopped talking and was smiling at her young pupil as she stared at the bee. Then as Nat looked around her became aware that in fact nothing was moving, nothing at all, not even time.
"Not bad," Eleanor remarked, "little slower than Solomon, but faster than Merlin, it took him ages to cotton on."
And so the instruction continued, how long it lasted, hours, days, weeks, months or years, Nat had no way of knowing, her perception of time and herself disappeared under the mounds of information Eleanor was giving her. Then suddenly she stopped.
"Well there you are," the old witch said, "that's the basics; you will have to fill in the gaps as you go along." Eleanor smiled at the look of total confusion on Nat's face.
"Don't worry, I know it's a lot to take in, give it time, and talking of time I've spent far more here than I intended, I must go." With that Eleanor Wicca silently vanished.
Nat felt incredibly light headed, but it wasn't all the thoughts buzzing around in her head that was the cause, she suddenly realised that she was very hungry.
She grabbed an apple as she passed through the kitchen on the way to her room, and ran up the stairs meeting no one; she put the apple to her lips to take a bite and entered her bedroom. As her teeth broke the skin and the apple juice exploded into her mouth, she happened to glance into the mirror set in the door of the old fashioned wardrobe at the side of her bed; the first bite of that apple was never finished. The reflection which she saw was an impossibility, it was her, but it was an image of her that she had not expected to see for several years at least.
Once she had recovered from her shock Nat examined the reflection more closely. There was certainly more of her looking back out of the glass than there had been this morning, things had undoubtedly developed here and there, in all she was rather pleased with the result. If Eleanor had suspended time for everyone else, she hadn't for Nat, and she must have talked, well… a very long time. She flirted with herself in front of the mirror for a few moments smiling at the improvements, and then she heard her grandmother call to her from downstairs. It suddenly occurred to Nat that no one else should see her like this, at least not until she was old enough to carry it off, what on earth was she going to do?
The panic lasted only a few seconds, and then Nat remembered why Eleanor looked the way she did, so she fixed the image of her fourteen year old self in her mind, closed her eyes and concentrated. She felt nothing, no change at all, but as she opened her eyes again to look, the reflection in the mirror had altered, and she hoped she had as well. The door to her bedroom opened after the briefest knock and Natalie Granger poked her head round it edge.
"Oh there you are Nat, we've been looking everywhere for you, lunch is ready."
"Sorry Gran," said Nat, relieved that at least her grandmother noticed no difference in her, "I'll be right down."
In fact no one noticed any difference in Harry and Hermione's second born, and for that she was very grateful, it gave her time to sort out all the 'basics' that Eleanor had given her. That she saw no one but her immediate family and Jennifer for the next couple of weeks was probably a blessing but she knew eventually she would fall under the gaze of Lady Niniane, and worst of all Solomon himself, how well would her disguise hold up then?
When the moment came, it was not as bad as she imagined, Lady Niniane obviously knew what had occurred, but she said nothing, the only indication Nat received was an extra smile of encouragement from the great lady and a pat on the arm. With Solomon it was slightly different, he treated her in exactly the same way he had always done, kindly, caringly, and with encouragement, which as usual left her with gently glowing cheeks. In return she behaved as normal with him, but when she was in his background she allowed herself to see the wizard in a slightly different light, and thoughts like that made her blush even more. She wondered how long she would have to hide from him who she really was, quite a while she reasoned, so putting her thoughts of the future away she concentrated on the here and now.
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A week before the start of the new school year Jennifer Lupin went back to London. The blonde haired grey eyed girl had flourished in the companionship of her best friends and their family and she was very sorry to leave Avalon. She had suffered the loneliness of isolation growing up with her reclusive parents, being at Hogwarts had helped her, but it was her association with the Potters that had really brought about the change in her. Jennifer was in a buoyant mood when she entered the rooms she shared with her mother, it was very quiet, perhaps her mother was out, she looked on the kitchen table but there was no note in that untidy scrawl her mother used. Not unduly worried, Jennifer took her things into her room and began to unpack; it was not until it started to get dark that the unease began, her mother had never stayed out this late. Jennifer walked to the window overlooking Diagon Alley and gazed down into the street below. On the other side of the Alley she could see Fred or George Weasley, it was hard to tell close up, impossible from this distance, working late in their shop. Jennifer was considering going over to see if either of them knew where her mother had got to when CRACK someone apparated into the room behind her. The girl spun round, but in the darkness all she could see was the outline of a dishevelled person whose hair was standing on end and gently smoking.
"What you doing in the dark Jen?" said the familiar voice of her mother.
The relief flooded through the girl who ran to her mother and threw her arms around her waist.
"Oh Mum,… where have you been? I was getting really worried," she cried.
"Hang on love," Tonks said, then, "Incendio," directing the spell at the lamp on the wall, and then as the light began to grow, "There that's better, now what's all this about, and why are you here?"
Jennifer backed off from Tonks and took her first good look at her mother. Her clothes were all torn and her hair, as she had first thought, was a mess. Tonks' face was flushed and liberally covered with dirt, but there was also a look of achievement there.
"I was worried because you didn't leave a note, and I'm here because today is the day we agreed for me to come back." Replied Jennifer.
"Oh," her mother plonked herself down in a chair, and she scratched her head with her wand which emitted several bright blue sparks as she did so. "I thought that was tomorrow," she shrugged her shoulders, "sorry love."
Jennifer shook her head in disbelief at her mother's fallible memory then took a second look at her mother and said, "OK I'll forgive you, but please tell me why you look like that?"
A look of complete triumph broke out on Tonks' face. "Well thanks to Harry, Hermione and not to mention the Minister for magic himself, yours truly Nymphadora Lupin, has just completed her Auror refresher training and as from next Monday I will be reinstated on the force."
"Wow Mum, that's great! I know how much you wanted that."
"Yes, after all this time I feel accepted again," her look change to one of wistful sorrow. "It's a nice feeling."
Jennifer took her mothers hand and gave it a squeeze, "Dad would be really proud of you."
"Yes I know." And a single large tear spilled out of Tonks' eye and ran down her dirty face leaving a trail of slightly cleaner skin in its wake.
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If Neville Longbottom had learned one thing over the years he had been running Thrubwell's with Ginny, it was that you never passed over the chance to get decent equipment at a cheap price. The message from Mundungus Fletcher had been short and to the point.
"Nev, Have something of interest to you, usual place, same time. MF".
On previous occasions Dung had come up with some useful items, always obtained legitimately, so he said, and usually of good quality. So Neville had no reason not to go, it was just that he didn't want Ginny to find out where he was getting the supplies.
Mundungus was not in good odour with the Weasley clan. His reputation had never really recovered from the first time that they had come in contact with him, way back when they were at school, and recently he had nearly landed the twins in trouble with a very dodgy supply of whiffling snoots. Although, on that occasion, Neville suspected that both Fred and George knew exactly what they were letting themselves in for.
Neville waited until Ginny was busy helping Poppy Pomfrey settle the orphanage children for the night, then sneaking out of the school buildings he apparated to the warehouse Dung used for his more legitimate transactions. As usual the place was in complete darkness, Dung never wasted any money on lighting when an old hand lamp would do, and Neville cursed his own stupidity because he had left his at home. He would have to wait for Dung to put in an appearance, and then in the distance he saw a small light held low bobbing up and down as someone walked towards him.
Neville frowned, he knew Dung was short but the light was only about a foot or so above the ground, then as the light came closer he could see that the figure holding the lamp was in fact too short to be Dung or any other wizard for that matter. He drew his wand to confront the stranger in front of him, but the attack that beat him came from behind. A quiet 'pufft' and a stinging sensation in the back of the neck was all there was to it. Neville tried to brush the dart from his skin but the strength had left his arms, he didn't even manage the reflex turn to see where the attack had come from before he collapsed unconscious in a heap.
The small figure hidden in the depths of a full length robe reached the fallen wizard, and at the same time two men dressed in black close-fitting suits materialised out of the darkness. One of the men carried a gas powered rifle which he slung over his shoulder, the pair of them regarded the spy they only knew as Elf. They shot looks of unease at each other as Elf extended a knobbly long fingered hand out from under his robe to prod the body on the ground.
"Good," the voice rasped out, "pick him up and take him to your master. Make sure he does not revive until you get him there. I will follow later."
Wordlessly the two men picked Neville up, and carried him the short distance to the van that was concealed behind some large packing crates. With them all inside the vehicle roared into life and its lights blazed out, then with a squeal from its tyres it raced out of the warehouse at a breakneck speed, its driver only too glad to be away from the scene of the crime. Kreacher watched the muggle vehicle depart, and then walked a few steps to a pile of rags on the floor.
"Thank-you so much for the use of your premises," he addressed the rags, "most kind of you." His laugh echoed off the walls of the warehouse and as he turned away his light shone once on the pale upturned face of Mundungus Fletcher, lying dead in a pool of his own blood.
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On the morning Voldemort's wand came into his possession Draco Malfoy changed, and not just physically. He walked quickly through the complex and straight into the office of the industrial tycoon, he said only one word to his employer Julius Magus, "Imperio" and from that moment on the muggle ceased to think for himself and became a wizard's plaything.
At last Draco realised what all past years had been leading to, this muggle and his empire had provided the means by which Harry, Hermione and all those others could be disposed of, permanently, and now with this wand Draco would make their humiliation complete by defeating them first. All he need to do was to draw them in, give them enough clues so that they would find him, and then he would destroy them, but he didn't want to do it bit by bit, he wanted them all to go out in a blaze of glory,… his glory.
The wand, the Infundus, had a different plan, it was very simple and it relied solely on the total activation of the instability inducer and since that formed part of Malfoy's plan as well, it had no reason to interfere with the wizard,… not yet.
Draco had discovered that the muggle's intelligence network was quite amazing, the information that had been gathered would have caused incalculable damage to the wizarding world had Magus been able to piece it all together. However only a wizard would have known what was significant and what was not, and as Magus was a muggle and likely to remain one for the short span of life that was left to him, this wealth of information was put to no use.
There was even a file on Potter, well not specifically him, but his muggle relations which Draco found rather amusing. Magus, it appeared, had goaded Potter's uncle into a heart attack, from which he had died, but his aunt and cousin were still alive. Draco considered the opportunities in this information then discarded them, from what he could remember from their school days Harry had loathed his relations, he would probably thank Draco for taking care of them. There was no leverage in that course of action, not yet anyway, but then Potter was the sentimental sort,… maybe later.
For the moment Potter's weaknesses were closer to home, Draco would have to work on Potter's friends, the Tyr. There was always a sneer that went with that word, every time he said or thought it; the Tyr was a concept so revolting that Draco couldn't help his reaction. Then he pondered some more,… possibly the children of the Tyr, yes they would make good bait, which was certainly something worth considering.
Working through Magus, Draco controlled far more than he ever really could comprehend, but he found that most of the empire functioned with little or no input from the man at the top, and so he concentrated on the divisions that interested him. The lead to Mundungus Fletcher filtered through one of the intelligence channels looking into misappropriation of items from one of the smaller supply companies in the group. From this, his contact with both the Weasley twins and then to Neville Longbottom came to light.
The Weasley twins would have done for a start, but they were rarely out in the muggle world and so difficult to get at, but Longbottom had met Fletcher at his warehouse and could easily be persuaded to do it again. Draco decided that it was time to set his plan in motion and use this information. With the connivance of Kreacher and some hired help the result was being wheeled into the laboratory on the floor below.
Neville began to shrug off the effects of the drug that had rendered him unconscious, he didn't panic, but he was frightened, and he couldn't move, not even to turn his head. He tried to remember how they had caught him; it was all a bit vague. Mundungus was involved he remembered that, and then, he had an image of a very short wizard, but it was no good, thinking was making his head ache. He did know one thing though, he knew wasn't able to get away.
He had tried to apparate, but something was stopping him, possibly the effects of the potion they had used on him, and now the straps holding him to the table prevented him from reaching his wand, which he could feel in his pocket although he was sure he remembered drawing it earlier.
By turning his eyes as far as they would go he could see vague shapes on the other side of a glass wall, they seemed to be working some sort of machine. It all looked very strange to him; he had never seen wizards dressed like that before. Then the room was flooded with light, and he heard a gentle hissing sound.
Draco Malfoy watched through the glass as Neville struggled at his bonds, the technicians operating the machinery were encased in protective suits and hoods that made looking anywhere but straight ahead very difficult, but in effect both the technicians and their suits were totally superfluous. As the chamber filled with the green coloured tranquilising gas Draco reached for his new wand, he only had to touch his finger tips to the handle and think the words, the wand did the rest.
The green mist rose from the floor, flowed over the level of the table and slowly enveloped Neville in its embrace. There was a strange smell with this mist and he began to feel light headed, then with a loud CRACK a bolt of lightening struck across the room, and the pain began. At that moment Draco thought the word 'Crucio' and directed the curse to the body on the table.
Neville screamed out loud, once, twice, then a third time and it was almost as if he could feel something being ripped from his body. Again and again Draco whispered that fateful word and again and again Neville's body strained upwards in a futile attempt to escape the agony.
Strand by strand his very being was torn away leaving him alive but empty, empty of everything but pain. Then as he thought he could stand no more, a blessed darkness enveloped him and Neville slumped back onto the table unconscious again. He surfaced once more but not fully, in his semi-conscious state he was aware of a container being pressed to his lips and a foul tasting potion poured down his throat, it was swallow or choke, and so he swallowed. He wasn't sure, but in the background before the blackness claimed him again, he saw a vaguely familiar face capped with white blond hair, he couldn't quite put a name to the face, it was there, but in his befuddled condition it wouldn't come. Perhaps if he slept again then he would remember, but he didn't want to sleep, he must stay awake, then a strange tingling began at his fingers and toes and spread up his arms and legs, as it passed into his body it became almost painful then there was nothing.
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Ginny was beginning to panic, Neville had never been away for this long without telling her what he was up to. Not even on his clandestine meetings with Mundungus Fletcher, which she was not supposed to know about, was he ever out this late. Leaving Rose with Poppy and Minerva, Ginny apparated to Godrics Hollow, to see if Neville was with Harry and Hermione. Her two oldest friends were out in the garden enjoying the late evening warmth of this August day and watching the water as it burbled its way down the stream past the seat beneath the willow tree.
Hermione comforted the distraught Ginny, as Harry systematically peragated to every location he could imagine that Neville could have gone to. When he returned with Molly Weasley in tow, Ginny burst into fresh tears fearing the worst.
"I haven't found him yet Gin," Harry reassured her, "but I did find Mundungus, he was in his warehouse, I am afraid he was dead. I thought I ought to bring Molly here, you know…." He stopped, embarrassed, not knowing what to say next.
Molly scooped her daughter up and took her into the house, and Hermione joined Harry by the bank of the stream, slipping her arm around his waist, and Harry acknowledged her presence with a hug of his own. "Dung has been murdered Hermione," Harry said in a subdued voice, "Someone cut his throat, there was blood everywhere, it was horrible."
"But no sign of Neville?" She asked.
"No nothing, but he had been there."
"How do you know?"
"I found this," and Harry pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and on it was written just a few words "
Nev, Have something of interest to you, usual place, same time. MF".
"Oh Harry, what are we going to do?"
Harry sighed, "Get some more help and keep looking, I suppose." Harry drew Hermione into a tight hug. "Things don't look very hopeful though."
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Neville opened his eyes, they were dry and felt as if they were full of sand, he blinked to try and clear them, but it only made it worse. Although it was still dark he could tell that he was outside in the open air, in the distance even with his poor vision he could discern an orange flashing light, then he recognised it as one of those markers muggles used to indicate a safe place to cross a road. He pulled himself to his feet and it made his head spin, he had a curious empty feeling which he could not place, almost as if part of him was missing, and so leaning back against the wall behind him Neville tried to take stock of himself and his surroundings.
Wiping his eyes with his handkerchief improved his sight and he could see that he was in a muggle street, actually at the end of a short alley, which led to the road with the flashing light. He wondered if he could conjure himself a drink, his throat was almost as dry as his eyes, he reached into his robes to get his wand, he drew it out but the usual tingle he felt when he held it was gone. He looked at his wand and it really was his wand, he recognised the small nick in the shaft that had been there since the battle on the steps of Hogwarts Castle, but it didn't feel like his wand. It felt like the way it would feel to any muggle, a stick of finely polished holly wood with a fine turned handle at one end. Then it hit him, he knew what he had lost, his magic was gone.
Not sure what to do, Neville pushed himself away from the wall and staggered down the alley toward the road at its end, as he came to the corner he tripped and would have fallen but for the presence of two large figures who had reached that corner at the same time and grabbed him as he fell into them.
"Steady Sir," said one of the figures, "here Phil, give me a hand, this one's a bit worse for wear."
Neville was lifted up by a second pair of hands, and in the light of the street lamps he could see that he was being supported by two tall muggle policemen.
"Sorry, …sorry, …thank-you," mumbled Neville.
"Are you alright Sir?" The first policeman asked.
"Err …no not really," Neville didn't sound very sure, "I can't seem to walk too well."
"Not been drinking, have you Sir?" said the one called Phil, sniffing Neville's breath.
"No, no, not at all, but I do feel a bit dizzy." Said Neville, almost slipping to his knees.
"Well I think you ought to come with us to the station, at any rate," said Phil, "the car is just up there," he pointed to the multicoloured vehicle twenty yards down the road. "Think you can make it?"
Neville nodded, the two officers almost carried him to the car and while Phil slipped behind the wheel the other policeman, whose name it turned out was Harry, climbed in the back with Neville.
"I have a friend called Harry," said Neville once Phil had divulged the other's name.
"Really Sir, that's a coincidence, and what would your name be?" said Harry dryly, taking out a small notebook.
"Err…Neville," said Neville, "Neville Longbottom."
"OK mister Longbottom, and would you like us to contact your friend Harry for you?" asked Harry the policeman.
"Not sure how you would be able to do that." Said Neville.
"We could try the telephone Sir," Harry said helpfully.
"No," said Neville dejectedly, "I don't think that will work somehow."
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Julie Burford closed the filing cabinet, with a slam, another dead end in the Fullbrook murder case. If they didn't get a decent lead soon then the case would be scaled down and they would lose manpower, and with muggles you needed manpower. What she would give for a squad of Aurors working magically through all this information, being able to get from place to place instantaneously, and not having to worry in which county they were working.
John had phoned to say he would not be back until morning, so Julie decided to call it a day and head for home; it was only when she looked at the clock that she realised that she had worked most of the night. The station was nearly deserted as she wound her way down the stairs. At the desk two uniforms were logging an incident with the sergeant; the man it probably concerned was sitting slumped in the corner of reception, holding his head in his hands. Julie was about to wave goodbye to the sergeant as she left, when something caught her eye, the wedding ring on the hand cupping the man's head flashed in the light, and as she looked at it she took in the clothes he was wearing. Wizards robes? No, not possible, then the man sighed and raised his head.
"Neville! What on earth are you doing here?" Julie cried.
Neville Longbottom looked at the woman dressed in muggle clothes then through his half closed eyes he recognised her. "Julie? Oh Julie, help me please."
"You know this man Ma'am?" The sergeant asked.
"Yes, of course." Julie replied. She turned to the two constables. "What happened?"
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The beds in the hospital wing of Hogwarts had held many a patient with unexplained or unexplainable injuries, and most, but not all had recovered. Harry and Hermione were standing at the end of Neville's bed while Ginny was keeping vigil at his side. Healer Felicity Jessup, a no nonsense, middle aged witch, who was Poppy Pomfrey's replacement, was looking over some charts, having given Neville a thorough check up.
"I can't explain it, Professors," she said to Harry and Hermione, "Mr. Longbottom is fine in all respects, apart from the fact he is unable to do any magic. You have checked his wand, and say that his wand is working alright…there's just no reason for it. I am at a loss."
"You are sure there is nothing the muggles could have done to affect him?" asked Harry.
"Absolutely Professor, there has never been any recorded case of such a thing. Why muggles can't even see magic, their brains won't allow it; they come up with all sorts of explanations rather than admit to magic." Felicity Jessup assured him.
"Always a first time." Said Hermione quietly so only Harry heard her.