Chapter 3: Farewells

March 2019, Finland

He Flood to the very heart of the IMRA headquarters later that night, the password to the Fidelius charm in the forefront of his mind. At this late hour, there was only the night guard and a clerk cleared to work all the way up here. Neville stiffly nodded to the two guards when they approached him for the routine scan but he greeted the clerk wizard more casually. Arthur Weasley was with them from the very start of the IMRA, never joining the fight at the front but always loyal to the cause.

"Hi, Arthur. Working the night shift?"

"And the afternoon one too," grunted Arthur instead of a greeting but still managed a smile for Neville.

"You've been here all day?" asked Neville incredulously, walking to the coffee tap and charming it for a strong one. "Where are the others?"

"Doge is sick, so we've been covering for him."

"Still? I heard he got sick weeks ago."

"He's in a coma now," Arthur sighed sadly. "Magically resistant hypoxia. The healers say he might not wake up."

"Gracious Merlin, I didn't even know!" Neville said regretfully. "Does he have a family?"

"No one I know of. He's over a hundred and thirty, and he's been fighting with that disease for as long as I've known him. None of us is getting any younger here, right?"

Neville gravely nodded, not knowing what else to say. Arthur fought in the very first war alongside Neville's parents, some fifty years ago. "You should go home. It's not like there's work that couldn't wait."

"Oh, like you would know!" Arthur laughed at him good-naturedly. "What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you weren't to turn up until next week?"

"I finished my assignment early. Could you get Jensen and Bill here? I've got urgent news to report."

"And when I risk my son's wrath for getting him away from his wife at midnight, can I tell him with all honesty that it's important enough?"

Neville seriously considered that question. "Go wake them up. I'll be in the office."

He didn't wait for Arthur's response and walked to the conference room, closing its door behind his back. He shortly considered inviting Arthur over for the discussion. He knew how important Harry used to be to the Weasley family. Neville himself had been invited to join in but even after years of friendships and comradery in arms, he could only watch from afar the special bond Harry used to share with the Weasley clan.

He shook his head, getting out of his reverie. He pushed down on the sentimentality, blaming the afternoon with Harry. Arthur needed to wait outside, he didn't have the clearance for this mission.

He grabbed a Pensieve from one of the numerous cupboards lining the walls and put all his memories of today's afternoon in it. The memory of going through the wards around Hermione's dead zone was very reluctant to leave his mind, just as Harry warned him, and after a minute of struggling with the haze, he gave up. This part of his day wasn't that important anyway. He then sat down on the sofa and settled to wait for Jens and Bill with his thoughts and coffee as the only company.

Bill was the first to arrive, not even bothering to transfigure his pyjamas. "Were you just singing?" he greeted Neville, waking him up from his musings.

"I don't sing," Neville objected.

Bill was almost fifty now; but for a wizard from a family like the Weasleys that didn't even mean he was past his prime time. He was definitely in very good shape, magically as well as physically; still the powerful wizard who led Neville's team twenty years ago. And still led it, even if Neville was the only one from the old bunch left in the army.

"I think I even recognized the melody – some drunken song, wasn't it?" Bill pressed, amused; he seemed in a surprisingly good mood for someone who was just roused from bed in the middle of the night. "Haven't heard that one in quite some time."

"Nonsense," Neville disagreed, although that comment startled him. It might very well mean that he actually was humming that bloody Scottish song that was the key to Hermione's wards.

Bill just smiled at him knowingly but dropped the subject. "So, what's this all about?" he asked.

"I've found him," Neville said simply.

Bill's jovial mood immediately disappeared. He knew who Neville was tasked to find. "So quickly?" he asked, amazed. "I thought it would take some time. Any means of contacting him across the Curtain?"

"You don't understand," Neville shook his head. "I've found him. Talked to him today."

Bill looked at him, eyebrows raised high. "How's that possible?

Neville just gestured at the Pensieve. "Feel welcome. It's all there."

Bill's eyes flicked to the Pensieve but he didn't make a move to enter it. "Is Jensen on his way?"

Neville nodded.

"I'll wait for him then," Bill said, sitting down on the other side of the room.

Matthias Jensen arrived five short minutes later. Unlike Bill, he changed back from his pyjamas or maybe hadn't had the time to put them on tonight yet as his coat was all wrinkled.

If they were still a real army, Jensen would outrank them all, being the one to sign the Foundation treaty for the German Ministry of Magic all those years ago. With the Resistance army dissolved and with the fight against Voldemort becoming quite unpopular, Jensen was the only one from all the higher-ups to stay loyal to the cause. As far as Neville was concerned, Jensen was still his superior, army dismantled or not. He was the one to lead them for all these years.

They didn't salute him when he entered but Neville did sit up a bit straighter.

"William, Neville. I didn't expect you back so early."

Neville chuckled. Jensen was the third wizard in a row tonight to great him so. It seems like today was a surprise for everyone. "I made quite a progress. It's all in the Pensieve. Shall we?"

Neville made for the stone basin, deciding to observe his day himself. He guided Jensen and Bill to the start of his memories, apologizing for the haze around Hermione's wards. He stopped talking altogether when she came out to greet him, not saying a word through the rest of the memories - when Harry turned up with shopping bags, dragged him to Cape Town or smoked a joint with him in Jerusalem.

He kept silent when they came out of the Pensieve, and so did everyone else for a few minutes, all lost in their thoughts. Neville's eyes flicked to Bill at one point but his face was devoid of any emotions.

"Well, that's what I'd call an eventful day," Jensen spoke at last.

When neither Neville nor Bill seemed willing to come out of their silent brooding, he tried to gather their attention again. "Look," he spoke up sharply. "I'd never been that close to Potter so I'm not going to pretend I know how you two feel about this. But we have to talk about what it means for the Resistance and our plans before you'll go and mope about reconciling with an old friend."

Bill nodded, looking slightly chagrined. "We can do that."

"Good, because this is big," Jensen said, his German accent just barely audible. "What is the chance of Potter changing his mind? Is there anything we can do to get him to a Legilimens?"

Neville started to answer but Bill beat him to it: "Not a chance in hell. Not when he gets like this."

Jensen obviously waited for him to elaborate further but when Bill didn't, Jensen just accepted it. He sighed. "I hate this - this special treatment for Potter. We've been there and how did it end up all those years ago?"

"Can we just forget about this?" Bill suggested, although he didn't sound much hopeful himself. "We've explored the option and nothing's come out of it. Let's move on and let Harry be."

"We can't simply ignore him now. Either we wipe his memories out or we change our plans to include him somehow. Now, I haven't seen him doing any proper magic in these memories but what do you think of our chances of sneaking an Obliviate at him?"

"Slim to none," Neville finally joined the conversation. "They would have been very slim all those years ago and they are even slimmer now when the only way to reach him is in a dead-zone."

"I thought so," Jensen nodded. "Well, that leaves us with only one option."

"We can't trust him," Bill injected. "He wouldn't listen to orders all those years ago and that was before he did who knows what to survive behind the Curtain. How did he end up on the other side anyway?"

"Don't get me wrong, Bill, I have no intentions of trusting him, not fully at least. But that doesn't mean we can't use him."

"He was right about the fact that we won't find another guide," Neville pointed out. "At least not from this side of the Curtain, and it might be too late if we start hiring when we are already inside the Empire."

"You trust him already," Bill observed. "Or should I say still?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The way you talked with him, the way you let him order you around. You even let him bloody apparate you - you trust him."

Neville halted when he realized Bill was right. He thought back on the moments when Harry was about to side-along apparate him for the first time and couldn't remember a whiff of hesitation. He stopped being this naïve and trusting years ago. He tried to identify his reasons for feeling differently with Harry but came up with only one argument. "It's Harry," he simply said.

Bill rolled his eyes at that. "Says the master investigator. Really, with all your experience and training, this is the best analysis you can give us?"

Neville frowned at that but there wasn't much he could say in his defense. His mind was baffled.

Bill's shoulders slumbered the next moment. "Sorry, Nev, that was uncalled for. I actually know very well what you meant by that," he said in a much calmer tone. "I used to know a Harry Potter; and I loved him like a brother. But that doesn't mean I'm going to entrust my team to this Harry who is not even willing to prove where his loyalty lies."

During the next four hours, they analyzed Harry's behaviour, mulled over every word he said and recorded all the magic he performed in front of Neville, from his unnaturally youthful face, his ability to apparate over whole continents, to his mundane looking wand. To Neville, it seemed ordinary enough, but Bill immediately recognised it as Voldemort's. Apparently, Harry stole it during one of his unauthorised missions to occupied England during the first years of the war.

They hadn't reached an agreement tonight, not beyond establishing that their plans needed to be altered and Harry needed to be in them, somehow.

Despite the dead of the morning hour, Neville didn't go straight home. Instead, he Flood to his office in Tirro, North Finland, The End of the World. He was not ready to go to bed just yet.

He looked at the world map hanging on his office wall, a wand in hand. One flick made all the known dead-zones appear on the map's surface. There weren't many, and all were properly registered and guarded, not to mention sought after by muggle real estate agencies and governments alike. But apparently, Hermione managed to snatch one just for herself.

He waved his wand in a complicated pattern, furrowing his brows in concentration. In a few seconds, clouds appeared hovering over the map as he conjured today's satellite images. Europe stayed blank where the Magical Empire lay. Apparently, not even satellite cameras could breach the Curtain from high above.

With the next wand flick, Neville let the time zones and their borders show. He remembered that his wristwatch jumped one hour ahead when they apparated to Cape Town. He trusted his watch.

He zoomed in over the Curtain in the European time zone. In the north, it went through the centre of Scandinavia, while in the South the barrier was cutting the Mediterranean sea in halves. Looking at the clouds moving, he stopped the satellite images for eight yesterday evening. He focused on the south, as he remembered the nice weather that prevailed on Hermione's meadow. He knew very well that the weather in northern Scandinavia wasn't as picturesque as that this time of the year.

His search thus narrowed, he started sliding the map around the South Mediterranean sea and North Africa in the European time zone, cataloguing the three dead-zones that lay there. Not a single one of them had cloudless skies above them this evening. None of them was Hermione's.

His observations might have been wrong. But they didn't have to be. Which could mean several things about Hermione's dead zone. She must have convinced a wizard to cover it up for her - which seemed quite impossible. It would have to be someone of considerable power - magically and politically both. Someone well-connected in the muggle world to have the dead zone erased from public records. It couldn't have been Hermione herself, not after her breakdown all those years ago. She couldn't touch a wand without going into hysterics. But maybe that has changed? He hadn't talked to her in years. But if she could cast magic again, why would she be living in a dead zone?

She must have had some help; that he was sure of. The Crossing appeared only three years ago, so it couldn't have been Harry. Who else was protecting her? As far as Neville knew, Hermione didn't have any pull with magical or muggle authorities left.

Neville jumped out of his musings when the office door flew open and in went his assistant.

"Oh, sorry Neville! I wouldn't have barged in like this if I'd known you were already here."

"No worries, Jan," Neville said, trying to calm his pounding heart as much as his startled deputy. "Is it time for the morning shift already?"

He looked towards his window but it didn't show anything else other than dark sky over the piles of snow.

"Oh, the Daylight charms must be deteriorating again," Jan noticed his glance. "It's half seven alright. Have you been here all night?"

Of course there's no light behind the window if it shows the real weather outside. There's never any light this close to the bloody North Pole.

Neville was woken up from his reverie when Jan cleared his throat, and Neville realized he still owed his assistant a reply. "Sorry, I'm tired."

"Understandable if you were working throughout the night. I'll have someone get to your window soon. They always leave our department for last, of course."

Of course the maintenance did. His department wasn't exactly popular, not with them essentially helping muggles, no matter how hard Neville tried to explain that was not the department's objective.

Jan was talking again. "You are spacing out. Go get some sleep."

"I will, soon. But I need you to have a look at something first," Neville said remembering Harry's latest dealings he confessed to. "I got tipped for two Confundus cases: a cigarette deal and an entertaining centre. I want you personally on it. Cover it up for the muggles, and try to follow the leads to the wizard but do not attract any attention. I mean that - it requires absolute discretion. It's in South America, so take a few days out of the office to deal with it. Get back to me the day after tomorrow, no matter what you'll have found. I'll get a file ready for you while you pack."

When Neville finally Flood home, the morning sun was streaming through the windows of their foyer. He knew the day was still dark outside and would be for many more weeks but unlike the maintenance squad at the Ministry, Luna was very attentive to their house, reapplying the Daylight diligently charms week after week. They assigned one afternoon a week to refuelling all the charms around the house. Neville always had enough of the constant chanting by the time only the necessary wards were strengthened and didn't feel like spending more time and energy on the additional charms. Luckily, Luna did.

Back at their Longbottom estate, his late grandmother had the charms redone once a year, maximum. The mansion was ancient and full of magic. However, Neville knew that even a new house shouldn't have needed that much reapplying if it had been built anywhere closer to some magical loci.

As it went, magic feeds magic was apparently one of many Binn's lessons that Neville now wished he hadn't slept through. All of the important magical sites, where wand-wizards had been suturing the air and the soil with magic for centuries, were now encompassed within the new Magical Empire, and out of their reach. They had to make do with what they had, reapplying the rapidly deteriorating charms over and over.

Once again, he decided to postpone sleep and headed towards the greenhouses instead. The morning sun was especially lovely there.

He wasn't surprised when Luna joined him on the bench with two cups of tea a few minutes later. He gratefully took one.

"You looked like someone's just thrown your long-lost friend at you."

Neville chuckled. "That's essentially how I feel, yes." He leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Thank you for arranging it with Hermione. Again, I would have appreciated a warning, though."

"I did think about warning you. But then I decided it would only make you more anxious and not that much prepared. If I was wrong, I'm sorry."

Neville thought about that for a bit. "You might have been right. I guess Harry would manage to surprise me no matter the warning."

"How was he?"

"He's pretty much the same. He hasn't aged a bit, which is one of the things that can't let me sleep. Quite literally now."

"But?"

"He's pretty much the same Harry, yes - but at the same time, he isn't."

Luna waited patiently while he gathered his thoughts. He took his time. "He lets people pay him for saving their lives. He steals from muggles, he lies, he's bloody secretive - even more than before," he said in the end. "He's reckless and confident, or should I say careless? He's cheeky and he laughs a lot. He reminds me of the time he was on Felix high, which doesn't help the situation any."

"Do you trust him?"

"That's what it all comes down to, right? And yes, strangely enough - contrary to all those things I've just listed - apparently, I still trust him."

"Why do you think it's so?"

Neville had just spent the whole night pondering that question. Sighing, he went with the same argument he had used with Bill hours before. "It's Harry."

And once again, Luna seemed to understand. She nodded. "Why does a wand have only one point? Because it's a wand. Why do we trust Harry Potter? Because he's Harry. We all grew up surrounded with the same beliefs."

There was a piece of wisdom hidden somewhere there but Neville didn't have any energy left to try to wiggle it out. Luna seemed to recognize that. "And how was Hermione? Did you give her my DVD?"

"Yes, I did. We talked for a bit. Well, not really talked but you know what I mean," he flustered a bit but jumped on the change of topic. "Can you remind me- how long have you been in touch with her?"

Luna frowned at him. "If you are going to interrogate me, do it properly. This is more important than my sensitivities."

Neville knew his wife well enough to recognize there was no reproach in her voice, just sincere advice. "Ok, then. How long have you been in touch with Hermione?"

"We have never been out of touch although it was rather one-sided at one point, just after the Resistance Army was dismantled. We came to live here and she disappeared somewhere in the muggle world, sending an occasional letter or two to our post box with no return address."

"And then?"

"Hm?"

"What happened when you started visiting her again?"

"One of her letters came with instructions to get to her house. Back then I already knew Sign Language enough to communicate quite gracefully, although she apparently learned the American variation, so there was a bit of an exciting confusion going on at the start."

"When was that?"

"Hm, let me think. December, probably around four years ago? I just remember visiting her for the first time during Christmas shopping."

"Has she ever mentioned anything about how she got to rent a dead zone?"

"I've never asked. She looked like she couldn't tell me much on the topic and I didn't want to make her uncomfortable."

"I wish you have," Neville sighed. Was Hermione still protected by the remains of the Resistance? It was unlikely - she had become a low priority when Harry disappeared. Was she protected by the Weasleys? If so, why would Bill keep it a secret?

"You are spacing out, my dear," Luna interrupted his musings. "That's quite dangerous this early in the morning, not to mention useless. It's time to go to bed. We can talk later."

Neville nodded, getting up to his feet.

"Oh, before I forget, Arthur called just before you came back. I'm to remind you that no matter how late your night conference ran, you are still expected to come for the drills this afternoon."

Neville groaned.

There were some parts of a soldier's life that Neville missed. Physical drills were not one of them.

He hated working out. He hated it all those years ago when he started training for the army, and he hated it even more now when he had mistakenly thought this part of his life was long over. He had a desk job now.

No matter his aversion, he knew they needed to be on top of their game if they were to survive in the Magical Empire. Odds were they wouldn't be able to use their wands at all times. They needed to be ready to defend themselves without magic at their disposal.

Neville groaned one last time and started stretching.

"You are exceptionally cheerful today," said Gregory, the only other person in the room.

"Long night," offered Neville as an explanation.

Gregory nodded at that, ending the conversation. He was not one to talk much. There were times when Neville really appreciated it.

Gregory Danes was much younger than Bill and Neville but sometimes Neville felt like Gregory was the proper, experienced soldier here. He practically grew up at the IMRA facilities, his career path set for him the moment he had walked onto his father's training session when he was five. Neville had been there and he had seen the boy's eyes shining as Gregory watched his father duel.

Gregory never had a chance to go to Hogwarts or any other formal school but he received an excellent education nonetheless, training under the best the Resistance and later the Exile had to offer. He was a good lad and Neville was glad he would have him by his side on the mission.

But now, when he was lifting his hundreds as if they were nothing, Neville wanted to have him very much out of his sight.

"Don't overexert yourself, old man," Gregory jabbed at him, noticing Neville's envious stare.

"Mind your own business, boy."

"I mean it, Neville, take it easy today. We've got a session with Master Seakson after this."

Neville's next groan just got much more pronounced.

He saw the fourth, and the last, member of their team three weeks later at a mission briefing. By then, all their plans had been finalized. They sent a letter to Harry via Hermione, with instructions on where and when to meet in the Magical Empire. The date was set two days into their journey, during which they would be on their own trying to assess the situation, and above all, trying to judge if they needed Harry at all. Everyone was still hoping he would turn out to be just an unnecessary backup plan.

During the past three weeks, Neville resigned from his job, the task strangely melancholic. He trained during days, he planned with Bill and Jensen during nights, he met with the refugees now and then, and he tried to wiggle in as much time with his wife as possible.

Now, they were just two days shy from their departure and Neville could feel the uneasiness slowly setting at the bottom of his stomach.

Annie Karlsson was a young Swedish woman of eighteen years old. Blond and lanky, she stood almost as tall as Neville. She was a muggle but quite an exceptional one. Remembering that, Neville brazed himself when coming closer to her. Several steps away, his magic got blocked. He immediately felt the emptiness and the following panic but he pushed those feelings down and crossed the remaining distance without hesitation. He hugged her tightly, knowing she would appreciate it.

"How are you feeling?" he whispered, sensing her relax slightly in his arms.

"Hated, tired and scared shitless," she mumbled into his shoulder.

He pulled her back slightly, resting his arms on her shoulders. "No one hates you here. Everyone is just a bit uncomfortable around you, that's all."

"Yes, but that doesn't help me make friends, does it? But that's fine, we'll be out of this place soon and I won't ever have to come back."

"You can still back down, you know? You don't have to do this."

She sighed. "Would I ever forgive myself if I left you alone in this? I appreciate your concern, Neville, I always do, but let's move on."

She stepped away from him and with that, his magic started responding to the outside world again. He couldn't help but sigh in relief. Annie saw it and Neville felt a wave of shame when he noticed her hurt look. She was gone in the conference room before he had a chance to apologize.

"I'm pregnant."

It was his last morning at home and his bacon just slipped from his fork halfway to his mouth.

"Come again, please?"

"I'm pregnant."

His mouth gaping open, Neville jumped out of his seat. He stopped then, standing motionless at the table and not exactly knowing what to do next.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant," Luna kept repeating. "Really, darling, the concept isn't that hard to grasp."

Neville started pacing. "But what happened with the waiting? What happened with the plan to wait until the war is over?"

"I think this is the moment I was waiting for."

"This is the moment?! I'm just about to leave for a mission! Merlin, I have to leave in few hours!"

"I thought with only few hours left, you could move through the panic phase faster."

"You planned this? How long have you known?"

"Hm, I've been sure for three days now."

"Luna!" He grabbed his hair, tugging forcefully. "We are supposed to make these decisions together, remember?"

Luna looked perplexed for the first time. "You always wanted children, it was me who was postponing. I thought you made the decision a long time ago."

"But what possessed you to change your mind now?!"

"You are about to leave and I didn't want to get lonely. I wanted someone for myself to talk to."

"I might never come back! We talked about that and I thought you understood! I thought you understood what kind of mission this was – I won't probably get back, Luna."

"Nonsense, you'll be back alright. Now you even have two reasons to come back to."

That deflated Neville's anger right away. He knelt down in front of Luna, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm hopeful, Neville. You are doing something for our future and I want to do something, too."

Neville's eyes dropped to the floor. "How can I leave you now?"

"You will walk out that door, and you'll do whatever you can to come back before eight months are over. If you think I'm going through labour alone, you are mistaken."

A few hours later, he was sitting in a dark storehouse, with Bill and Gregory at his side. Jensen was pacing in front of them and everyone was watching the clock that hung on the wall behind him. When it stroke one am, Bill, Gregory and Neville reached for their respective capsules with antidote, swallowing them quickly.

They moved to the truck parked nearby, climbing inside the four compartments that were carved out of the floor of its cargo. Annie was already in one of them, asleep with the help of muggle sedatives to pass through the long uncomfortable ride. At her ankles lay all their magical belongings. Neville climbed into his own tight chest, feeling the soft cushioning under his back and around his shoulders.

No one spoke a word, they didn't have to. But when it was Neville's turn to drink his flask of Draught of Living Dead, Jensen came over and clasped his shoulder.

That was the last thing Neville saw before the darkness took him. He wasn't aware of Jensen closing his compartment and the others', too. He didn't hear the thumping of Jensen's boots or the hum of machinery when he proceeded to load up the cargo - a few crates of pure ivory. He didn't hear as Jensen put them precisely according to the plan so there was no chance the cargo would ever cover the breathing holes of their compartments.

Neville didn't hear the unsuspecting driver when he arrived to work in the middle of the night. He wasn't aware of the thousands of kilometres of Russian land they crossed in the early morning before they got to the Curtain and its only open Crossing.

Exactly thirteen hours after digesting, the capsule finally dissolved, letting the Draught's antidote flow right into Neville's stomach and thus waking him up with a start.

He immediately recognized he wasn't in the compartment any longer. The soft cushioning was gone, he was lying on a hard floor, face down. He could feel ropes around his ankles. His wrists were bound behind his back and there was a rugged piece of cloth in his mouth.

And just like that, he knew they were in deep shit.