Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, sadly (otherwise I would be a billionaire by now, sigh). J.K. Rowling owns all the characters (except maybe 3?) and parts of the plot.

Chapter 4 – Protective Enchantments

There was a certain gloomy atmosphere in Seamus' house that day. Though their conversations moved from Hogwarts to Death eaters to Harry then to more pleasant things like what they wanted to be when they grew up, then back to Harry in which all three swore their faithfulness in him, Dean couldn't help feeling a sense of foreboding. He couldn't shake off the thought that he would never see Seamus again, or his life was about to change dramatically in the next few days. What if he had to stay in hiding for the rest of his life?

That night back in his room, he toyed with the pocket sneakoscope that Seamus had given him. His mum had allowed him to spend the last of his holidays at Neville's, and he would leave on the 20th. Dean had finalised the contents of his trunk, just in case, and was looking at the owl, which had dropped in again and was finishing off a second packet of Berti Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

During the following days Dean came to assume that he was the owl's owner. On the day Dean had returned home from Seamus' the owl had had a fit of hooting, Dean, rather annoyed, snapped at him to stop hooting and ever since, the name "Hoot" stuck.

On the day of the 20th Dean woke up with a start, he had cancelled the owl order service yesterday, so there was no owl kicking him in the face this time. Hoot, however, had obviously come back from a night of hunting and scavenging, he was looking out the window, solemn as ever, and at his feet laid an old faded photo, and an even older scrap of newspaper.

"Thanks for the rubbish Hoot, you sure know how to repay me for all those beans," said Dean sarcastically, as he picked them up and prepared to throw them in the bin.

Hoot suddenly gave a soft hoot.

"What?" asked Dean groggily.

Immediately his attention was caught by the calamity taking place outside his window, a moment ago the street was empty. Now, however, a ministry official was jabbing his wand at a woman dressed in dark, rich velvet robes with the hood on.

Neville's gran.

Neville had told him that he would come on the day to pick him up, but he was nowhere to be seen and this ministry official, Dean guessed, was probably part of the Muggle-born Registration Commission, who was overly eager and had arrived two days early.

For Dean.

Dean immediately dragged his satchel from beneath his bed and rushed downstairs.

"Mum!"

Dean's mother was sitting calmly at the table, eating a bowl of cereal and reading the newspapers. She looked up and glanced straight through the window before turning her head to Dean.

She reacted as is she had seen nothing in the window, Dean looked again, Neville's gran had just stupefied the ministry official, wouldn't that at least make a muggle look twice? Dean's mother's blank expression gave him the impression that she had not seen anything at all.

"Its nice weather today isn't it?" Dean asked, cautiously.

His mother glanced absentmindedly for a minute out the window, "Yes, better than yesterday."

Dean's mind was racing, someone, perhaps Neville, had placed some sort of charm around the house so that the muggle inhabitants couldn't see wizards, or unless the two who were fighting outside had used a spell on themselves to make sure muggles didn't see them. The latter seemed more reasonable, although Dean had no idea whether such a spell existed, but it would be very handy f he knew how.

"How are you this morning Dean? Have your friends come to pick you up yet?" His mother smiled at him affectionately.

"I'm fine thanks mum, never slept better, looks like the warm milk really did work!" Dean said a bit over-enthusiastically to compensate for the ominous feeling he was getting. "Neville's already arrived, he's just waiting outside, I think." Or rather, thought Dean, "I hope".

"Great, so why don't you invite him in?"

"Err…he's kinda in a hurry, I think I'll have to leave straight away."

"Oh," said his mother sadly, "have you packed your trunk yet, do you need me to get anything for you?"

"No, everything's ready, I'll probably apparate out soon."

An awkward silence followed those words.

"Well…er…mum?"

"Yes, Dean?"

He walked towards his mum's seat and simultaneously she rose up.

"I won't see you for awhile, be safe," said Dean trying to subtly emphasise the last two words as he hugged his mum and his mum patted him softly and fondly on the head.

"Don't you worry, I'm more than double your age, you think I can't take care of myself, when I've been looking after you since you were born?" she said, and Dean could hear the smile in those words.

"Alright, I'll see you again then," said Dean making himself promise those words as he let go of his mum.

"You sure you don't want me to wake up dad or something?" she asked.

"No, no, it's alright, just tell him I'll miss him when he wakes up."

"Ok Dean, you be safe."

Dean smiled weakly, "I will."

He bounded up the stairs, but before entering his room, he turned left and entered his sisters' room. They both slept, side by side in one bed and holding hands, while the other was empty. They usually slept like this when one of them had a nightmare.

Stuffing the photo and newspaper (which he only realized had been clenched in his fists the whole time) in his jean pocket, he leant in close and gave each a peck on the forehead and smoothed their hair.

Dean was never good at goodbyes, and hated it when people prolonged them so much that it became rather dreary and annoying. His goodbyes were always quick and rather non-sentimental, which was quite a casual way to say bye to people he may never see again. Possibly.

He returned to his room with his satchel, found the window open and heard Neville's gran yelling "Obliviate!"

"Why is my window open?"

Before he could ponder on it, Hoot flew through the window and dropped a scrap of paper into his hands. "More rubbish?" thought Dean as he turned it over –

"Couldn't get near your house, would you mind apparating to the park round the corner from your house? - Neville"

Dean looked through the window again. The ministry official was lying on the ground, unconscious, and Neville's gran was gone.

Dean grabbed his trunk and satchel and apparated.

Or rather, tried to.

He imagined the park in his mind and the urgency to go there, before anymore officials turned up. However, he couldn't apparate, and a few minutes later, he found himself in the same room.

"Magic can sometimes be unreliable at the worst of times," grumbled Dean, "Well, I'll just have to walk there, then."

"Dean?" His mother popped her head around the door, "I though you would've left by now, so I came up to check if everything was alright?"

"Um, yeah, it is, its just that Neville wants me to meet him in the park because…it's…hem…more convenient to apparate there."

"Ok, would you like me to carry your trunk downstairs for you?"

"That would be great, thanks mum."

They clambered down the stairs and reached the door, Dean's mum opened it for him as he put on his shoes, and then she handed him the trunk.

"Be safe, please, don't get into any trouble and I'll see you at Christmas."

"Ok mum, thanks," said Dean, closing the door behind him.

He flinched as he walked past the body of the ministry official lying on the pavement, careful to make no sound.

Hoot fluttered from the opened window of his room and followed Dean as he made his way around the corner.

Before he could turn the corner, however, an eerie gloom suddenly descended upon the street.

"Dementors," thought Dean with a start, and they were moving closer, the sense of despair and grief grew stronger but they were not yet close enough to have much effect towards Dean. He still had enough time.

The last time Dean had used a Patronus charm, a burst of silver smoke erupted from his wand, he doubted he had improved much and it wasn't worth a try yelling out a charm in the middle of a street surrounded by dementors.

Dean closed his eyes again, imagining the park, he couldn't risk going that way otherwise he could end up walking into dementors. Apparition was his last resort, though he applied this with minimal faith, and was surprised when there was a loud crack and he found himself standing on the far side of the pond.

However, the crack had alerted the dementors to his whereabouts and there was one, now, gliding effortlessly across the pond which had a thin layer of ice above it.

"QUICK!"

Someone behind him grabbed his hand and within a second, they had apparated.

Neville's hand was sweaty which somewhat increased the strong grip he had on Dean's. After the sensation of apparition, Dean realized they were standing before a porch which belonged to an old, but rather cosy-looking house.

"My house," said Neville off-handedly, as he stepped onto the porch and tapped the door with his wand, the door swung inwardly and closed behind them after they had entered.

Neville's house was smaller than it appeared on the outside. It consisted of a hall which ended at the kitchen and on either side were rooms. The walls were painted in a dark red colour and portraits hung at random intervals. Pot plants which didn't seem to need sunlight were also propped on either side of the hallway, on a lush maroon carpet.

"That's gran's room," said Neville, pointing to the first wooden door to their left. "That's the guest room to your right, further on is the lounge room and the bathroom and toilet, and here," said Neville, arriving at a door on their right, just before the kitchen, "is our room, excuse the mess, I tried to tidy it up."

Neville's room was the only room painted white and provided a very stark contrast to the dark red walls. It had none of the rich furnishings, plush velvety couches and varnished wooden tables like the other rooms and had a wooden floor.

"I made sure gran wouldn't decorate it her way," he said, "that's your bed, by the window."

A mattress had been squeezed into the room next to the wardrobe so that its doors were blocked from opening. Dean placed his trunk at the end of the mattress and dumped his satchel onto his new bed.

"I said your bed is by the window," said Neville with an amused expression.

Dean turned his head, the bed by the window was big and spacious, and, a proper bed.

"Don't tell me you usually sleep on a mattress squashed against your wardrobe and had this big bed moved in just for me," said Dean.

"You're my guest, I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor, besides gran would probably have a fit if she found out I let you sleep on the floor," said Neville.

"I didn't come here to enjoy a holiday, a mattress will do fine," said Dean firmly, "and anyway, where is your gran, wasn't she with you?"

"She's gone to get my books for Hogwarts."

"You mean, she wasn't with you just then?" asked Dean.

"No she left in the morning. What's the worry?"

Dean was searching through his memory, trying to picture an image of the woman who was fighting the official, up till now he had assumed it was Mrs Longbottom, but he had just been assured that he was wrong.

"You didn't happen to see a woman fighting with someone from the ministry by any chance?"

"WHAT? Outside your house?"

"Mm-hmm."

"No, I came real early, tried to knock on your door, but for some reason, every time I touched the house I was flung backwards by an invisible force, you didn't happen to put a shield around the house did you?" Neville asked.

Dean's mouth was hanging open, "Did you try to apparate in?"

"Yeah, I did, but I couldn't do that either."

"I couldn't apparate out of my house as well!" remembered Dean, "Do you think, because I know I didn't, that someone placed protective spells around my house?"

"What? But who would do that and why?"

"Well, I said I saw that woman fighting the ministry wizard, who I think worked for the muggle-born registration commission, do you think…"

"Do you know who she was?"

"No, I thought she was your gran all along."

"Do you know any witch who lives around your area?"

"No."

"Do you know anyone who would follow you around?"

"No, I don't –"

"Anyone who's keen to protect you?"

"Ha! I doubt that."

"Any theories?"

"Nope."

"Wait, what happened to the ministry person?"

"Hmm, he lost his memory and consciousness, he was lying on the pavement when I left, and my mum couldn't see him from inside the house."

Before they could discuss any further, they heard the front door swing open, Mrs Longbottom was home.

Extremely sorry it took me so long, but school's over now so I can afford to write fanfics all day