It was dark.
Thorn could hear the whispers of other people around him but someone had placed a blindfold over his eyes quite some time ago. His hands were bound by some sort of magical spell and even though he could feel his vocal chords twitching, no sound came out of his mouth. Judging by the lack of ultraviolet rays hitting his skin, Thorn also determined that he was inside some sort of facility. The prospects looked glum for Thorn.
Thorn's ears twitched as he heard faint voices leaking through whatever door stood between him and freedom. They were low and scratchy as if they were heavy smokers. Thorn leaned his head towards the door, hoping to catch a snippet of the conversation.
"Why are we even keeping him?" asked the first man.
"The Dark Lord said he's going to be needed for something. Something important," said the second man.
"What? Information? That's useless. We tried to break him already. They enchanted him with something so he won't reveal Longbottom's location," the first man explained.
"No," the second man clucked disapprovingly, "The Dark Lord needs him for something else. Said he's going to put on a show."
"A show?"
"Something big."
Thorn gulped, the acidic feelings in his stomach bubbled to the forefront of his mind, a physical reaction to the conversation between the two men. He needed escape and he needed to escape immediately.
------------------------------------------
"He's gone."
The statement was irreversibly simple. Following yet another punch in the face, Neville disappeared without as much as a good-bye to anyone. One quick look on the Marauder's Map was all it took to confirm Dean's statement.
"Good riddance," Malfoy muttered.
"For Merlin's sake, why are you still wearing the mask?" Seamus bewilderedly asked him.
Malfoy stared back at him, not speaking and not moving.
"I hate you," Seamus pointed at him, "I hope you know that. You're also incredibly creepy."
"And least he doesn't have the voice anymore," Dean pointed out.
"If everyone's done spoiling Malfoy with attention, there are important matters at hand," Ginny said from her spot near the door.
Harry's unit was assembled in one of the few classrooms not used as a makeshift triage area. Ron and Hermione were included as well as Ginny. Neville, obviously, was nowhere to be seen.
"Ginny's right," Hermione interrupted them commotion, "We have to go after Neville."
All eyes swiveled to Harry, searching for an answer. Harry was staring out the window, deep in thought though he obviously heard Hermione's question. Hermione looked at him nervously, but squashed her skittish feelings.
"Harry, I know what Neville did was wrong, but we can't leave him to go after the Horcruxes by himself. He won't last a second out there," Hermione pleaded.
The unit kept looking at the exchange between Harry and Hermione, knowing that their comments would go unheard by their Captain. It was Harry's responsibility alone to decide whether or not they should chase after Neville. The only person who could convince him to do so was the brunette pleading her case in front of him.
"Neville can make it himself," Harry said confidently.
"I don't know about that," Ron interjected.
"Are you sure?" Harry looked back at him inquisitively.
Ron exchanged a slight look with Hermione and nodded, "Even if he were to find the Horcruxes, he's been out of sorts ever since we picked up the locket. I don't know how long he can even go without - you know - losing it."
"Man makes a point," Seamus leaned back, crossed his arms over his head, and propped his feet on Su Li's lap.
"Neville -" Su Li forcefully pushed the Irishman's feet off her lap, "- is also less likely to be caught if he takes the necessary precautions and blends into the Muggle environment. Whether we like it or not, we tend to make a lot of noise whenever we travel."
'We should leave him," Malfoy cut in.
"That's a surprise if I've ever heard one," Seamus cheekily added.
Malfoy pushed off the desk he was leaning on, "Longbottom's got enough problems as it is. What's to say another 'attack' won't occur while we're in the middle of a fight. I, for one, don't fancy getting a Stunner in the back when I'm trying to tear some Death Eater to shreds."
"Neville wouldn't do that," Hermione defended him.
"Didn't stop him from attacking you, did it?" Malfoy egged her on.
"Enough," Harry glared warningly at Malfoy. Malfoy snorted and took up a spot near the window.
"I know it didn't," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "But that doesn't change the fact that Neville's the only one that can defeat Voldemort."
"The prophecy's wishy-washy anyways," Padma rebutted, "Neville might be destined to defeat Voldemort but that doesn't mean he's the only person that can stop Voldemort. Harry, for example, could defeat Voldemort but not kill him and leave it up to Neville. The whole prophecy business is a complicated case of semantics anyways. From what I can tell, Neville hasn't shown one bit of decisive magical power that could possibly defeat Voldemort."
Hermione was taken aback by the sudden and definitive analysis laid down by the Ravenclaw. She fumed but was unable to conjure a response since, in essence, Padma was correct. Hermione had seen Voldemort's capabilities first hand and if Neville's weakness in his mind was any sign of things, the Boy-Who-Lived was, so far, unable to even compete with the Dark Lord.
"Still leave the Horcruxes though," Su Li pondered.
"Can't we just go after them ourselves? Is there anything in the prophecy rulebook that says we're not allowed to destroy the Horcruxes either?" Dean asked Hermione.
"No," Hermione pursed her lips, "If Dumbledore can destroy one, I think any of us can destroy one."
"Still," Seamus idly tossed his wand in the air, "I would feel a bit on the shameful side if we left Neville out in the cold."
"He wanted to go anyways. He told me so himself when he first got here," Harry reasoned.
"And since when have you listened to every single request anyone makes?" Hermione rhetorically asked, "Neville's not in a right state of mind. He thinks that he brings harm to everyone around him -"
"He does," Malfoy interrupted.
" -BUT," Hermione shot a disgusted look at the Slytherin, "He needs help. He can't possibly do this alone."
The case was laid out in front of Harry. All the facts were presented to him from different perspectives, giving him a more holistic view of matter at hand. Harry glanced to Hermione and saw the pleading and hopeful look on her face. He admired her belief in her friends, but Harry was not the same. He couldn't forgive Neville so easily.
"He won't do it alone," Harry delivered the verdict.
"Okay, let's go," Hermione stood up and started for the door but noticed that Harry wasn't moving.
"I said he won't do it alone," Harry clarified, "But it's not going to be us that will be following him."
"If not us, then who?" Ron curiously asked. Though Neville was his best friend, the darkness in him scared Ron to the point of desertion.
"Someone I know," Harry mysteriously answered.
"Harry, who?" Hermione begged.
"I can't say right now."
Hermione looked at him skeptically, disbelieving his sincerity.
"Decision's final, Hermione. If Neville wants to go, he gets to go. If he really is destined to beat Voldemort, he can find a way to do it."
---------------------------------------
Harry walked into the dark, musky hallway of Grimmauld's Place, intent on finding the lone inhabitant. It smelled foul and of stale alcohol. The strong smell was easily identifiable from even the foyer of the house. There was a rustle in the kitchen and Harry took long strides down the dark corridor, his wand kept firmly in his robes for he knew there was no danger up ahead.
The kitchen was a respectable mess with dishes piled a foot high in the sink and rotten food lying on the table. Scores and scores of bottles lined the counters, tables, and sink. If Harry was a drinking man, he would have been impressed by the variety and sheer volume of alcohol that was evidently consumed. Even more impressive was the fact that all this alcohol was consumed by one man. Who was that one man?
Sirius Black.
The person in question was rustling around the refrigerator, no doubt procuring another bottle of whiskey or maybe rum. The former was the drink in question and Sirius didn't hesitate to pop the flask and take three gulps. Harry sighed as Sirius had yet to notice him.
"Ahem," Harry coughed.
Sirius kept drinking.
"Sirius," Harry said.
No response.
CRACK.
Harry slammed his fist against the table. Sirius spun on his heel but in his drunken state, the sudden change of balance was too much for him and he toppled over, the whiskey spilling all over his already dirtied shirt. Sirius looked at Harry through his overgrown, shaggy hair. His eyes were bloodshot but wide as Harry stood before him with an annoyed look on his face.
"James?" Sirius whispered astonished, "Is that really you? I knew you'd come back."
Harry had to refrain from rolling his eyes. He quickly cast a cleaning and sobriety charm on Sirius, hoping that it would at least refresh one of the last Marauders. Sirius shook his head, not used to the sudden sobriety. It had been some time since he was not under the influence.
"Harry…what's…what's going on?" Sirius muttered, still rubbing his head in confusion.
Harry picked up the bottle of whiskey that had rolled to his feet, "You've been drinking."
"I think that much is obvious," Sirius groaned as he came to his feet.
"Good to see you're participating in the war," Harry sardonically added as he did a three hundred and sixty degree turn to survey the mess.
"What war?" Sirius tiredly said, "No one's hurt. Everyone's alive except for James and Lily. This is no war. This is just Voldemort playing with us."
"People have been hurt."
"Muggles have been hurt," Sirius sat down in a chair that was thankfully unoccupied by bottles of alcohol, "Death Eaters have been hurt. Tell me, Harry, who have you lost in your unit?"
"My parents died. I think that counts," Harry harshly said.
"I know," Sirius said with glassy eyes, "I'd give anything to see them again."
"I suppose it would have helped if you appreciated them before they died," Harry cleared a seat and placed it in front of Sirius before sitting on it, "Now all you have left is Remus and Remus is doing important things."
"Remus -" Sirius quoted the name, "- is not even in Britain. He's off somewhere safe trying to 'recruit' people for the war. He ran away too. He just had a good excuse."
"Maybe," Harry nodded, "But at least he has an excuse. When's the last time you've even gone outside?"
"Had to raid a Muggle store for some of their alcohol," Sirius shrugged, "Not as strong, but it does the trick."
"So now you're looting Muggles for their alcohol," Harry leaned back and crossed his arms, "Bravo, Sirius. You've certainly hit a new low."
"And look at you," Sirius snarled, "High and mighty, leading your unit against Voldemort. You think you have a chance against him? You think ANY of us do?"
Sirius stood up and started pacing, waving his arms maniacally.
"I thought the Dark Tower was a myth. A legend passed down to scare little children. But it's real," Sirius dramatically turned his head to the sky as if he were looking through the walls and staring at the tower.
Harry leaned forward, not having heard this speech before, "What do you know about it?"
"The myth says that the Tower was used by the Founders in an attempt to unite the Muggle and Magical world. The Founders believed that the Muggles would need some help understanding their ways. So inside the tower is a strong compulsion charm that…sways…Muggles their way."
"That's it? It's used to control Muggles?" Harry asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Of course not," Sirius scoffed, "What's the point of the tower if it's only use is to control Muggles. It doesn't even control them; it just makes them more amenable to magical content. In this case, Voldemort's the one up there so they open up to him easily."
"That's how Voldemort gets the Mixers?" Harry asked.
"Probably," Sirius wheeled about, pacing quicker and quicker, "But that's not the end game. At the very top of the tower is a mirror. A shining beacon that uses the celestial alignments of the planet and the sun to power it's magic."
"What's the mirror do?"
"It does what the Mirror of Erised can't do," Sirius turned to Harry with a meaningful look on his face, "It fulfills your greatest desire."
Harry frowned, slightly disappointed that he didn't come to Sirius before. Evidently, the drunk knew a lot of information about the tower. How did he overlook such a valuable resource? Then again, Harry was in no mood to deal with Sirius' drunken moods.
"So how come we're not all dead? How come Voldemort hasn't killed us all and fulfilled his desire?" Harry asked the obvious question.
"I don't know," Sirius shrugged, "That's where the tale ends. They say it takes a great cost to fulfill that desire. A cost that is almost too much to bear. Almost."
"Why would the Founders build such a thing? Something so dangerous?" Harry pondered.
"They needed a way to prove to the most stubborn of Muggles that magic was indeed real. What better way than to have your heart's greatest desire? Gryffindor believed in the good of people but for once Slytherin might have been right. Sometimes, you shouldn't fulfill your heart's greatest desire. Men are easy to corrupt, especially when they've had a taste of power," Sirius somberly intoned.
"So what's Voldemort waiting for?"
"I don't know. That's why he's playing with us. Toying with us. There's no use to any of this," Sirius sat down and opened a half-filled bottle of vodka.
Harry summoned the drink away and threw it against the ground. Sirius shrugged and reached for another libation. Harry repeated the process, unsympathetically not allowing the older man to drink.
"Why are you here, Harry? Surely it's not to start a rehabilitation process for me," Sirius was growing angry at Harry's tactics.
"Neville is still destined to defeat him," Harry decided to use the prophecy to back his reasoning for once.
"Neville's disappeared around the countryside, probably too shocked by Dumbledore's death," Sirius said glumly.
"We've found him - or at least, we found him for a while," Harry informed him.
Sirius was now interested, "Did you now? What do you mean for a while? Is he okay? Are Ron and Hermione okay?"
"Hermione and Ron are with me. They're completely safe."
"And Neville?"
"He's taken off," Harry purposefully omitted the reasons for Neville's departure, "He's gone to take on Voldemort alone."
"Foolish boy," Sirius stamped at the ground angrily, "He's always been hard headed. Thinks that he's safer by himself."
Harry bit his lip, angry that he couldn't reveal Neville's weakness, "That's why I'm here."
"He's not here," Sirius blinked, "I would have obviously told you if he was here."
"No," Harry had to roll his eyes this time at Sirius's idiocy, "I need you to find him."
"Me?" Sirius pointed at himself, "Isn't that what you should be doing?"
"Unlike you, some of us have responsibilities. Some of us have to defend people from Death Eaters and Mixers. We don't have the resources for it," Harry smoothly lied.
"I…I don't know," Sirius stuttered, "I don't think I can do that. The Death Eaters…"
"Where's the Sirius Black of old?" Harry interrupted, "Where's the Sirius Black that jumped headfirst into situations that he didn't even begin to comprehend? Are you telling me that you're too scared to do this?"
"Scared?" Sirius stood up angrily, "No! I - just - I wouldn't know the first place to look. I'm - Harry you know this - I'm in no right state to go searching for Neville."
"There's no one else I can turn to. Trust me, I would have found someone else if I could."
Harry's sting made Sirius visibly wince for he knew how much the boy hated him.
"Harry," Sirius pleaded, "I can't…"
"What would my parents have you do?" Harry pulled out his trump card, "Would you forsake them even their death? Would you let them die for nothing because you couldn't go and find a sixteen-year old boy?"
Sirius paled, realizing that Harry was enforcing his guilt. The guilt that made Sirius drink so heavily that he forgot which way was North. The guilt that imprisoned him in his own home, a punishment for his idiocy and abandonment of his former best friend. He couldn't possibly let Harry down again. James and Lily made him Harry's godfather for a reason and Merlin be damned if he wasn't going to fulfill that purpose.
"I'll find him."
"You better hope so," the warning in Harry's voice evident, "Bring him back to me as soon as you do."
---------------------------------------------------
A week had passed since Neville's disappearance and Harry's subsequent visit to Sirius. There was no sign or word from the Marauder so far and Harry was beginning to suspect that locating Neville might prove a harder task than even he thought it would. Harry declined to tell the rest of the unit and especially Hermione about Sirius's involvement; it would only cause unneeded anxiousness on her part.
Hermione ranged from dismissively cold to hesitantly welcoming. Neville's sudden departure and the lack of caring on Harry's part constantly revolved her emotions. Harry sensed that despite her feelings for him, a small part of her wanted to follow Neville and, at the very least, make sure he was safe. Even when they were together, the tension was evident even in silence.
Currently, the unit was preparing to relieve Nott's unit in the hotbed of London. The areas surrounding the tower were infested with Death Eater camps and Mixers. As the war grew over the months, more and more Death Eaters surrounding the tower at Hyde Park until it became somewhat of a circle of death. All the units of the Minister's Army were wary of crossing that circle of death and generally stayed out of it's path.
"Why so serious, Harry?" Seamus asked as he fiddled with his wand.
"I'm not being serious," Harry gruffly replied as he re-checked his wand holster, flinching as he realized Seamus's unintended double entendre.
"You've been kind of a bummer lately. We can tell," Dean piled on.
"I'm completely fine," Harry rolled his eyes.
"I think I know what the problem is," Seamus sagely nodded, "Su Li. Padma. Out."
"Excuse me?" Padma asked, seemingly affronted.
"Guy business to talk about," Dean ushered them about, shushing their complaints.
Only Dean, Seamus, Michael, and Harry remained within the classroom. Malfoy was absent from the conversation. After making sure the door was shut and Padma and Su Li were out of earshot, Dean gave Seamus a thumbs up.
"Alright," Seamus clapped his hands together, "It's obvious you're in a bit of a rift with our very own Hermione Granger."
Harry groaned, "Please tell me we're not talking about this! We should be prepping for our leave."
"Pish-posh," Seamus waved his hand dismissively, "We might be in the middle of a war against a psychotic terrorist, but you have to remember - we're still sixteen and for once, we have a problem that is uniquely tuned for blooming younglings such as ourselves."
"Seamus is right," Michael nodded, "We have to find a way to get you out of your stupor."
"For the last time," Harry was growing impatient, "I'm not in a stupor."
"Then how come you and Hermione aren't attached at the hip? How come she ignores you for long periods of times? How come you two don't eat off each other's plates?" Seamus interrogated Harry.
"Because that's a disgusting show of public affection. I would never do that," Harry countered.
"Still - do you deny that you're in a bit of a squabble?"
Harry fidgeted, for one being the one under the pressure of everyone of else, "Okay - she's a bit mad at me. But can you blame me for sending Neville away? After what that bastard did…"
"No one's blaming you. Honestly, I'm a bit surprised you didn't kill the bloke right away," Seamus revealed.
"Would've been a good headline: Boy-Who-Lived attacks best friend and then is killed by psychotic boyfriend," Dean mimicked a newspaper headline with his hands.
"Boyfriend," Harry grumbled.
"You are her boyfriend, aren't you?" Michael suspiciously asked.
"I suppose - we didn't really put a label on it…"
"Harry, Harry," Seamus shook his head, "Did you not have a big, romantic moment? A date of some sorts where you asked for her hand?"
"I thought that was marriage?" Dean confusedly asked.
"Just a metaphor, Dean," Michael sighed.
"No," Harry frowned, "We didn't do any of that. She sort of kissed me and then I kissed her back. We haven't even had a date."
"Shocking romance," Seamus said in a dead-panned manner.
"It's not my fault!" Harry defended himself, "It's been a bit busy if you can't tell."
"Oh, I know. Death raining from the sky. Muggles going crazy - the usual," Seamus pulled out a parchment and started writing something.
"What's that?" Harry feared for he knew what Seamus was like when he got an idea.
"I -" Seamus smiled, "- am planning your first date with her."
"I don't think you should be in charge of that," Dean ribbed him, "I've seen what you do on dates."
"My resume speaks for itself," Seamus said in mock offense.
"Perhaps we should fine tune it to fit Harry and Hermione. Harry - what does Hermione like?" Michael intelligently cut in.
"Books."
"Reading."
"House Elves."
"Oh, Merlin - I forgot all about S.P.E.W," Seamus smacked himself in the head.
"It's a legitimate cause," Harry felt the need to defend her, "My family never had a house elf…" Harry trailed off at the sudden mention of his deceased parents.
Seamus coughed nervously and started speaking again to take Harry's attention away from that somber subject, "You may not have a label, but you sure act like her boyfriend."
Harry shook his head, "This is a bad idea. We shouldn't be planning dates. We have a job to do and we're leaving soon!"
"What Moody won't know won't hurt him," Dean said in a sing-song voice as he scribbled something on the parchment.
"Let me see that," Harry reached for the parchment.
"Nope!" Seamus yanked it back, away from his grasp, "And don't you use any of your fancy, mancy magic. Do you want to get back on Hermione's good side?"
"I suppose," Harry relented.
"Then leave us with our work. Between the three of us - well -" Seamus shot a look at Dean, "- the two of us will set you up with a perfect date."
"And what am I supposed to do?"
"Look as dashing as possible."
-----------------------------------------
Hermione was suspicious when Harry asked her to meet in the Herbology greenhouse.
On top of that, he also requested that she put on her best set of dress robes. Hermione was puzzled by the odd request; it was so unlike of Harry. Nevertheless, she donned a simple, blue dress with a halter top and a pair of robes she borrowed from a girl that still had the completely unnecessary clothing in her trunk. She attempted to fix her hair, but as usual, it refused to comply with her wishes so Hermione settled for tying it up in a messy bun. She stepped into the greenhouse and immediately realized that there were some…redecorations.
The desks and rows of plants had been cleared away and replaced with a single table and two chairs opposite from each other. Little, golden lights were interspersed through the vines that crisscrossed the roof of the greenhouse and the sides as well. Hermione swore that some of their were tiny fairies that swayed about since they seemed to majestically move in random patterns. Hermione half-expected a small orchestra to start playing music but was relieved to find Harry standing on the opposite side of the greenhouse.
He looked distinctly nervous but endearingly charming. He wore a simple button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and plain, black slacks. His hair, untamable as always, seemed to at least complement his otherwise clean look. He smiled nervously at her when she finally spotted him.
"Harry," Hermione said slowly, "What's going on?"
"Um," Harry thrust a bouquet of flowers at her, "This is for you."
"Thank you?" She accepted the flowers with the same questioning look in her eyes.
"Here," Harry placed a hand on her back and led her to her seat, pulling it out for her and placing vanishing the flowers with one motion of his hand.
"Why did you get rid of the flowers?" Hermione demanded, feeling at a loss. Though she didn't quite know what was happening, she still appreciated the flowers nonetheless.
Harry faltered as if he realized what exactly he just did. Hermione could practically hear him hem and haw in his head and bit back a giggle at Harry's nervousness. Try as she might, she couldn't help but feel sorry for Harry as he struggled to come up with a reasonable excuse.
"No place to put them," Harry hurriedly answered as he took a seat opposite to her and lighted the candle in the middle of their table.
Hermione simply raised an eyebrow at the mood setter.
"Ahem," Harry coughed loudly.
The doors of the greenhouse burst open and in strode Seamus, wearing a ridiculous tuxedo. Hermione shook her head but smiled to herself as she realized what exactly was being orchestrated.
"Good evening, beautiful people! Welcome to the Chez de Greenhouse. I will be your host for this evening. What would you two like to have tonight?" Seamus bowed extravagantly.
"Is there a menu?" Hermione played along.
"Why of course, mademoiselle," Seamus procured a menu from behind his back as if he expected the question. Handing it over to the couple, Seamus looked over Hermione's shoulder and pointed at an item.
"I would recommend that one!"
Hermione couldn't help but give a small laugh as she realized the three items on the menu: Dinner, Better Dinner, and Best Dinner. Seamus obviously pointed at Best Dinner.
"I'll have that one then!" Hermione cheerily replied.
"Same," said Harry.
Seamus collected the menus and left but not before slyly winking at Harry. Hermione caught the little interchange and looked at a blushing Harry.
"This can't possibly have been your idea, was it?" she asked him.
"Um -" Harry looked unsure as to how he should answer the question, "- yes it was…"
"Oh really?" Hermione bemusedly smiled, knowing that Harry couldn't have possibly thought of this, "I like the little lights. It's a good touch."
"Thanks, Mich - I mean - I thought they were…cute," Harry struggled with his words.
This time, Hermione couldn't help but giggle impishly at Harry's stuttering. It was as if he reverted back to the days when he was afraid to simply talk to her and engage her in flirtatious conversation. Harry blushed even redder, if possible, but smiled in relief.
"I'm sorry," Harry apologized, "I don't know what I'm doing. They convinced me into doing this. We can stop at any time if you feel uncomfortable."
"No," Hermione waved him off, "It's rather…nice. Very normal for a change."
"It is quite nice, isn't it?" Harry sheepishly admitted.
"Nice not to have Death Eaters breathing down your neck. Nice to just be eating dinner for a change."
"About that dinner…" Harry worriedly look at the door.
"I'm sure Seamus will cook up something just fine," Hermione reassured him.
"For both our sake's, let's hope so."
Hermione laughed again and Harry couldn't help but chuckle slightly. It felt surreal, sitting down to have a mock date with Hermione. Yet, it felt quite right. For once, there were no pressures, no dangers, nothing but the two of them.
As their chuckling died down, Harry fixed Hermione with a more serious look, "Are you still angry at me?"
Hermione's smile slipped off her face and she looked down and started fiddling with the end of her dress, "I'm not mad - I have no reason to be mad at you. I just have mixed feelings."
Harry stayed silent but nodded as if to say, "Go on."
"It's just - a part of me wants to go after Neville," Hermione professed, "It's the part of me that still cares about him, that wants to keep him safe. No matter what happened, he's still my best friend."
Harry, once again, remained taciturn, unwilling to share his emotions just yet.
"But the other part of me is…relieved. Relieved that I don't have to worry about Neville breaking down. Relieved that I'm with you and not in some tent wandering around the countryside. I just - I feel guilty thinking all these things when Neville's out there by himself," Hermione finished in a whisper.
"Maybe it's better for Neville to be alone right now. He'd be less likely to hurt anyone," Harry offered, not feeling too much sympathy for the other boy.
"No," Hermione shook her head, "He'll just get self-destructive by himself. He needs people to help him."
"He's going to be okay. Trust me on that. If anyone can do it, Neville can. His one determination in life is to beat Voldemort, that much I know," Harry reasoned.
"I know," Hermione nodded sadly, "It's all he thinks about it. I'm afraid it's going to consume him."
Harry couldn't comment on this fact as he had been dreaming about the very same thing ever since the Battle of Hogwarts. Yet, he was not burdened with the pressures of the prophecy or the constant mind attacks of Voldemort.
"He'll be okay. I've made sure of it," Harry said tightly.
Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise and Harry could tell she was itching to ask a question. But for once, Hermione refrained and controlled her curiosity. Instead, she fixed him with an honest look of compassion.
"Even through all this…" Hermione whispered.
"Through what?" Harry asked, not understanding what she was referencing.
"Even after what Neville did, even after all the things that happened to you, you still find a way to make sure he doesn't get hurt," Hermione said in an astonished manner.
"It's just protocol," Harry muttered, embarrassed by the compliments.
Hermione smiled at him knowingly, "I'm sure it is. You're a good person, Harry. In the end, I hope you can realize that."
"You say it with such conviction."
"Because I know you are. Why do you think I like you so much?"
"I thought it was the glasses to be honest."
Hermione smiled, the kind of smile that bared her teeth and caused the corners of her eyes to crinkle, "I am a big fan of them. You look adorable."
"And here I thought I was intimidating," Harry exasperatedly sighed.
"You're both, strong and vulnerable at the same time," Hermione reached across the table to take Harry's hand in her own.
Harry squeezed her hand back gratefully, accepting her return. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, memorizing the feeling. He picked up her hand and kissed the same knuckles softly. Hermione squeezed his hand back to show her appreciation.
"Durate et vosmet rebus servate secundis," Harry whispered softly.
Hermione beamed, instantly recognizing the saying.
"Better times, Harry. We'll both see to it."
------------------------------------------------------------------
Seamus knocked on Harry's door impatiently. They were supposed to leave at least half an hour ago but Harry was uncharacteristically late.
"Galleon says they did the deed," Dean bet.
"How are we defining the deed?" Michael asked, trying to establish the parameters of the bet.
"All the way, of course," Dean scoffed.
"Two Galleons says they didn't," Ron interjected, "I've known Hermione for longer than you."
"But do you know Hermione like Harry knows Hermione?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows.
Ron wrinkled his nose, "No and I would never wish to."
"Shhh!" Seamus shushed as he heard footsteps approaching the door.
The lock switched out of place and Hermione was greeted by Seamus, Dean, Michael, and Ron. She looked at them sternly, her lips set in a firm line.
"Harry said to double check your equipment and have everyone ready in five minutes. If you're not ready by then, we're leaving without you."
Seamus quirked the side of his lips, "It's hard to take you seriously when you're wearing his Quidditch shirt."
"Leave now!" Hermione snapped. As she closed the door though, they could all spot the smile that eventually cracked on her face.
"I believe you owe me two Galleons," Dean jabbed Ron in the chest as they retreated to Hogsmeade.
"Unluckily for you, I don't even remember the last time I've held a Galleon," Ron cheekily said.
Harry, indeed, arrived five minutes later, dressed in full attire. Hermione was with him and equally dressed and ready to embark on their mission. Although Harry's unit was designated to patrol and help against Death Eater forces, Ron and Hermione would be their unofficial advisors. At least, that's what the official mission statement reported.
In reality, most of their time was going to be spent on finding the remaining Horcrux. Since owls were a useless form of communication now (too easily intercepted) and they had no other feasible way of contacting Neville, it was up to Hermione and Ron to solve the puzzle and find the last vestiges of Voldemort's soul.
"Everyone set?" Harry asked.
"Are you set?" Seamus slyly asked.
"What does that even mean?" Padma looked at Seamus as if he had been hit with one too many Stunners.
"I think young Seamus is trying to imply that Harry's in a good mood today," Dean translated.
"Why would Harry be in a better mood today?" Padma turned to Harry questioningly.
Harry fidgeted for a moment, but Hermione stepped in to intervene.
"Because we slept together," Hermione answered.
"What happened? Did Potter slip and find himself in between your legs?" Malfoy lazily drawled.
Ron snorted but then looked affronted as he realized who cracked the joke. Malfoy, with his half black/half white mask on, had a similar reaction and stepped away from Ron.
"I think I liked you better when no one know who you were," Harry rolled his eyes, "Can we all be a bit mature and just leave?"
"How mature?" Seamus grinned perversely.
"Seamus! Leave them alone! Don't worry - you two - I'll get them to stop," Padma slapped Seamus's shoulder.
"Thank you, Padma," Hermione said gratefully.
The jibes and jokes, however, continued as they rode to London. Padma tried to cease the endless, harmless comments, but it was to no avail as Seamus and Dean were not going to be denied the opportunity to have a laugh. Harry and Hermione took it in stride though, for once not caring who knew about them. Though Ron was slightly uncomfortable at first, he even partook in the roast.
As they neared the outer circle of London, the group fell silent as the ominous sites of the formerly busy city dominated their view. The tower loomed in the air, a watchful sentry of all activities. At the base of the tower, smoke rose like blades of grass from the abandoned and shelled buildings. Even from a distance, signs of the Death Eaters were evident.
The stayed low in altitude, not wishing to attract any unneeded attention. Flying in a convoluted path, Harry led them through a complicated maze of buildings and side roads as they attempted to stay under the radar lest they attract any beastly dragons or excessive Mixers. They finally arrived at the rendezvous point that Seamus had set with Nott.
"Should be here soon," Seamus said as they established a safe parameter.
As if on cue, two low whistles could be heard as Harry's unit camped out in a building. Seamus whistled back once, a high, distinct shrill. A cloaked figure emerged, walking quickly to the front door of the marked building. The figure knocked on the door with three staccato bursts. Seamus approached the door, his wand in hand.
"Who's the biggest arse in the world?" Seamus asked.
"Potter, of course," Nott answered as he pulled back the hood of his cloak to reveal his face.
"I love that security question," Seamus grinned as he waved his wand and allowed Nott inside.
Nott rushed in, checking over his shoulder one more time to make sure he wasn't followed or was being watched. Nott nodded his head at the assembled crowd and raised an eyebrow at Hermione and Ron.
"I see you picked up some stragglers," Nott joked as he shook Harry's hand.
"Found them hitchhiking."
"Is that so?" Nott bemusedly and rhetorically asked, "Funny you should say so because I saw the third one the other day."
"You saw Neville?" Hermione rushed forward.
"When?" Harry asked in a business-like manner.
"Not three days ago if I remember correctly," Nott counted the days off his fingers, "Though he didn't seem particularly chuffed to see us. Declined our help. Is it safe for him to be wandering about alone?"
"You didn't stop him!?" Hermione worriedly asked.
"As I said, he declined our help and ran away from us. I'm not going to go chasing after him. You may believe that Longbottom bullshit, but I certainly don't. I've been here -" Nott waved his arms around, "- for way too long to believe that Longbottom can defeat the Dark Lord."
"Still with the Dark Lord business?" Seamus interjected.
"Habit," Nott shrugged.
"Did he say where he was going? Where he was headed? Was there anyone with him?" Harry asked in a rush.
"Not particularly," Nott said as he looked at Harry in confusion, "No one was with him either. Is he not supposed to be wandering around London?"
"Not particularly safe for him," Seamus mused.
"Not my problem," Nott shrugged.
"Well - at least we know he's around here," Ron offered.
"Not exactly a good thing, Weasley," Nott shook his head, "The Dark Lord has been picking up his attacks against Muggles."
"Like what?"
Nott looked around the building and realized it was some sort of Muggle shop. He walked around until he found a telly to plug inside the outlet. Hoping that it still worked, Nott shoved the wire into the slot and turned on the television.
"Muggles may be primitive, archaic, and ugly, but these telly things are genius. Keeps us informed of the Death Eaters' whereabouts since they like to report attacks," Nott explained as he flipped through the channels.
Most of the channels were pure static since broadcasts were limited in the wake of the war. But there was one emergency channel that stayed active for the Muggles that could still find a television and the accompanying electricity.
"Ah, here it is," Nott stopped changing the channels as a picture of a Muggle reporter sitting behind a desk emerged.
Currently, the Muggle reporter was explaining different attacks in London. He was reading off an extensive list and it was obvious that this news station was not located inside the city area. He was in the middle of listing several escape routes and refugee camps when he suddenly stopped.
"Why'd he stop?" Ron asked, not used to the fascinating electronic.
"I don't know," Nott frowned, "That's unusual."
Hermione gasped as she watched a bright, green light blast the reported to the ground. There was a commotion that could be heard in the background then silence. After a few moments, a familiar figure stepped into view of the camera. It was surreal and Hermione had to blink several times, not believing what she was watching. Voldemort was on the telly.
Voldemort smiled, that eerie smile of his that could never been mistaken for happiness, "Hello, Muggle world. Many of you may not know me, but I am Lord Voldemort. I am the one responsible for the Dark Tower."
Voldemort stopped smiling, his face now murderously serious, "You may ask yourself what is this? What are these fantastical beasts that are suddenly popping out of nowhere? As if…by magic…"
"Who are these people who are brandishing wooden sticks and terrorizing your country? Why do they do this? Why do they torment us so?"
"We are wizards. We are a world that is kept hidden to you by those who fear our power. We are a world that has long been restrained by those who are foolish enough to think that our worlds could co-exist without one having knowledge of the other. I seek to break these barriers. I seek to join our worlds under one banner. Mines."
Voldemort turned, facing another camera, "But you still ask yourself, why are you doing this? Why are you hurting us? But I'm not hurting you! I'm reforming you. I am teaching you the ways of the most powerful wizards of our kind. There are forces that wish to defeat me, to send me back from whence I came. But I am simply here to show you that they can not defeat me. I am here to show you that I can help all of you. I can show you the ways of our world in a manner which you could never ever dream."
"I offer you the world. A world dominated by superior magical quality and by those who can grant you your every whim. I offer your heart's greatest desire. Resurrection? Riches? Immortality…I can offer you all of that. Things that your science have strived to achieve for centuries can be done with one snap of my fingers," Voldemort snapped his fingers and magically conjured what looked to be a wad of cash.
"Anything you want, you can have. Safety from other countries? Dominion and domination over the world? Come with me. For if you defy me…"
The camera suddenly swiveled and Hermione gasped as she spotted a battered Sergeant Thorn. He was sporting a few bruises and swayed on his legs but defiantly stared at Voldemort. An assault rifle was shuffled against the ground and tapped against his combat boots. Thorn looked at it hesitantly, unsure as to why they would present him with such an opportunity. With one quick glance at Voldemort, Thorn picked up his gun, switched the safety off and fired continuous rounds at Voldemort.
Voldemort didn't even have to move. He easily deflected the bullets and thrust his hand into the air in the shape of a choke grip. The gun flew out of Thorn's hands and landed in Voldemort's. He set the gun on fire and tossed it to the side. He retrieved his wand and summoned Thorn to him wordlessly. Thorn struggled to escape the magical pull but could do nothing about the spell. He lunged at Voldemort, but Voldemort simply twitched his wand and suspended Thorn in mid-air. Voldemort looked straight into the camera with a gleeful look on his face.
"You cannot stop me."
Voldemort slashed his wand in an upwards motion and Hermione had to turn away and duck her head into Harry's chest as Thorn's head was decapitated from his body. The blood spurted into the air and showered Voldemort's pale, gruesome skin. He sat back down, looking as calm as ever as he spoke to his audience once again.
"Do not defy me. It is of no use. But follow me and I will end the bloodshed and teach you our ways. Follow me and the world will be in your hand. All I ask is one thing and one thing only."
Voldemort suddenly summoned a picture to the camera and plastered it against the lens. Hermione's eyes widened as she realized who the picture was. There, moving in the portrait, was Neville Longbottom. It seemed to have been taken a year or so ago as Hermione recognized his hair back when the Tri-Wizard tournament started.
"This boy is important to me. He is dear to me in ways that he's yet to learn. He is missing and I need you to find him," Voldemort nodded sympathetically as if he cared for Neville, "His name is Neville Longbottom and if you find him. If you even see him, bring him to me and I will end this bloodshed immediately."
Voldemort leaned forward, his blood spattered face shining sickeningly in the studio lights, "Bring me Neville Longbottom and I will end this."
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A/N: The Latin part translates to "Carry on and preserve yourself for better times." It's from the gift that Harry gave to Hermione in CH.12: Releasing the Lever. Once again, hope you liked the chapter - I know there's a lot going on in it. Enjoy and leave one.