"Can you see who it is?" a man with messy black hair and a ripple of shrapnel-inflicted scars across his face asked urgently.
"Yeah - ah, shit, it's Dolohov. That's just great," his companion, a taller, brown haired man with a nose that had been badly broken in the past groused back to him.
"Yeah? Well, he's probably saying 'Oh shit, it's those guys'," the dark haired man retorted.
"He's coming this way..." the brown haired man muttered, watching Dolohov out the corner of his eye.
"Just—let's not draw any extra attention," his friend cautioned.
"Too late for that. How the hell do you think we could have avoided attracting attention in a place like this?"
"I don't know! Act casual."
Further argument was cut off by the arrival of the topic of their conversation, Antonin Dolohov.
"Good evening, Mr Potter, Mr Longbottom," Dolohov greeted with what might have passed for a pleasant smile on the face of another. The years of his 'false imprisonment' at Azkaban had not been any kinder to him than they had to Sirius. "You are enjoying yourselves, I trust?" he inquired, with just the faintest trace of an accent.
"Of course," Harry replied with a smile while Neville busied himself in his drink. "Please convey our compliments to your wife."
Dolohov inclined his head. "Of course. She was thrilled when we received news of your attendance."
Harry gave another polite smile as Dolohov engaged Neville in inane niceties, his eyes roaming around the lavish receiving room of Dolohov's manor. It was filled with the upper crust of pureblood society, all flaunting their wealth and social position at each other like a bunch of overdressed peacocks. He had duelled half the people in the room at some point under less than amiable circumstances. Here and there he could make out the tell tale waver of a glamour that hid scars he had given some of the more prominent figures; he raised his glass to Lucius Malfoy as the man scowled at him from across the room.
Dolohov finally made his parting comments to Neville before addressing the both of them. "I am so glad you could make it tonight. It was quite the coup to gain your attendance. I'm sure this party will be talked about for months to come," he proclaimed with a knife of a smile, before moving on to greet another guest milling around the room.
"I'll bet it will be," Neville muttered to Harry once Dolohov was out of earshot. "I still don't like this. You know we were only invited to get us out of the way."
"Kingsley, Mad-Eye and Remus can handle any of the Inner Circle who aren't here between them," Harry stated, "and Dumbledore is hanging around somewhere too. Besides, who knows when we'll get another chance like this?"
"True," Neville conceded. They paused as Dolohov's wife called for the attention of the room and invited them all to the dining hall. "Let's get this show on the road then."
Without further pause Harry pulled a shimmering material from under his robes and swept it over the two of them. The now invisible pair of wizards waited for the room to clear, before making their way over to the side doors that Dolohov had left through not minutes previously.
They strode down the long hall on the other side with purpose, the expanded Invisibility Cloak hiding them completely from the gazes of wizarding portraits that they passed. The two wizards slowed when they came to a set of impressive oak doors, Dolohov's study.
"They in there?" Harry whispered.
A quick charm from Neville confirmed two people on the other side of the doors. He gave his partner in crime a quick nod.
"Alright," Harry breathed. He reached into his pockets, pulling out four pieces of smoky quartz, carved in the likeness of runes. Several gestures of his wand attached them to each corner of the door frame, before he began muttering under his breath. After several seconds, a ripple of magic expanded along the walls of the room.
"They noticed," Neville reported, his charm allowing him to see the outlines of the room's occupants.
"Let's say hello then," Harry suggested with a smirk, spinning his wand between his fingers. "After you. Just as we planned."
The same vicious grin that Neville got every time he was able to deal with Death Eaters made its way across his face, before he stabbed sharply at the doors with his wand. With a faint whump, the doors blew inwards with concussive force, one leaning drunkenly as it was wrenched from its top hinges.
The two wizards inside the study were on their feet, wands in hand. Dolohov was one, as they suspected, while the other was a grizzled old man with cruel eyes, as they had hoped.
"Longbottom," Dolohov snarled. "What do you think to accomplish? I didn't take you for such idiocy."
"What did you think would happen?" Neville asked mockingly as he stared down the two men. "I mean, you were so accommodating in inviting us past your wards and everything."
"Where's Potter?" Dolohov demanded, ignoring Neville's banter.
"Right behind you."
"Don't play me for a fool, Long-"
"Urk."
Dolohov blinked at the unusual sound the man at his side had made, before turning to face him. He blinked again when he caught sight of the simple dagger sticking out of his chest, wielded by an arm that seemingly appeared out of thin air.
"Nymphadora asked me to send her regards," Harry informed the man he had just killed, revealing himself as his Cloak slipped away.
"Potter," the dying man rasped.
"I believe you met her father recently," Harry continued pleasantly, ignoring Dolohov as Neville took advantage of his distraction to blast him across the room. Seeing the man struggling to form words, he continued. "But I don't think you need to be reminded how that turned out, Rosier."
Harry pushed the somehow still standing man casually, watching as he fell before squatting down beside his weakly gasping form and reaching for his hand. He struggled with it for several moments before looking at it critically. "Oh well. They'll clean up," he shrugged and reached for his wand. A severing charm sent Rosier's fingers rolling across the floor. Harry looked up to see Neville standing over a kneeling Dolohov.
"Nearly finished?" he inquired.
Neville booted Dolohov in the jaw, sending the already bleeding Death Eater crashing onto his back. "Nearly."
"They'll know this was you," Dolohov wheezed. "You go missing just as I'm—"
"Dolohov," Neville interrupted sternly. "We're not even here tonight." Before the Death Eater could comprehend his statement, Neville brought his wand to bear. A flash of blue light and Dolohov's head was rolling from his shoulders.
"Got what we came for?" Neville asked as the two men left the room, paying no attention to the corpses they left behind.
Harry slipped one of the rings he had taken from Rosier—Ted Tonks' wedding ring—into his pocket before examining the second closely. With a smile, he slipped it onto his own finger. His smile widened as he felt his Cloak shiver in response.
"We did," Harry replied as they made their way out of the manor like they owned the place. "We did indeed."