Neville knew his grandmother meant well, procuring a litany of unregistered portkeys through old friends and the like, but up until their guests started showing up, he had no idea what she meant to do with them. Well, I might have had a guess, but I wouldn't remember that.
The Grangers were the first to arrive, a bit dazed as they were, looking all around to see in what kind of ancient estate had they landed. The Longbottoms never shared the Malfoys' faith in the peacock as the fashionable animal to have through the ages, and instead kept a herd of ponies he was explicitly forbidden from riding, trying to ride, or befriending.
"Hello, M-Lady Longbottom," one of the parents started. "You explained briefly that you needed to see us, and I assume that this is your stately home, but... well, I should go ahead and assume this has something to do with Hermione?"
"You are quite correct."
His grandmother's tone was not the least bit patronizing. Damn. Things are really going south when she's not just being polite because she has to.
A man and a woman appeared, and they adjusted to her surroundings quickly.
"You must be Cho's mother and father," Neville started, doing his best to maintain hospitality. "I hope your trip went well. I've never taken a portkey from so far." Oh, wait, damn it all, I shouldn't have assumed they were related-
"Near and far are no different," the middle-aged witch said, smiling momentarily. "We thought our trip from Glasgow to London was far."
They could have been visiting family in China, I suppose. Either way, Hermione's going to let me have it if she ever finds out I assumed they were-
It appeared his grandmother decided to lead the families to the outdoor tea table, which was significantly larger than it had been the last time they used it. It was clever of her to look up all the parents of missing Hogwarts students as a way of figuring out who all is out there, helping our friends... or fighting against them.
At last a great circle of parents waited with an alarming patience around the great table as the tea came out.
"I am to understand the school has fallen?" one asked. He might have been Terry's father, from the looks of him.
"Fallen?" Dr. Granger asked. "What exactly do you mean by fallen?"
"I'm afraid we mean it in a quite literal sense," Lady Longbottom explained. "The castle has been destroyed, as my sources tell, by a joint effort of Death Eaters, Ministry officials, and students themselves."
Rather than everyone talking at once, there was a stunned silence.
"Well, I suppose we should have expected it- putting our children in the same place as-"
"I shall have to tell the parents of the other children how you feel, Mr. Prewett. I have already informed the Weasleys of their situation, and they responded without outburst. The father told me that what we should have expected was that when we left conflicts unresolved, the very same would reach their children eventually." Neville saw his grandmother sigh before speaking again. "The Death Eaters have returned and the government has only grown more corrupt- in the name of fighting the first, we allowed the second to take on unparalleled powers, but since Roman times those powers have never been the temporary measures we hoped." She levitated the liquid tea from her cup and extracted sugar from it, though he had not seen her put sugar in. She never needs to tell the elves to leave it out. "The Romans had a problem they never truly solved, and it killed them, magical and muggle alike. Augurs warned the Senators that their republic would be destroyed on the Ides of March and they responded by killing the man they feared would seize power."
"They only forgot all the people who supported him," Hermione's father muttered. Looking across the table, the Changs seemed particularly interested. Well, they might be hearing it for the first time.
"Precisely," the Longbottom matron continued. "Striking at the top was effective, yet Caesar had immense popular support and a base among the Senators and aristocracy. Without the force or magical supremacy to eradicate them entirely, they should have acted to undermine the emergency power provision and revealed to the public the limited success against the Apothecaries of Gaul. By assassinating the primary threat, they handed control of the narrative to the rest of the Senators, arguing that the murder of a beloved, celebrated general demonstrated than an imperator needed greater power to shield himself against Senators and aristocrats."
They got rid of the man without getting rid of his seat. His old friends offered it to whoever would be their new friends.
"It's like a hydra..." he started, quietly. "Even with all his powers, Caesar was only in charge of specific areas, and he couldn't have gotten there alone..." He didn't. There were plenty of people helping him get where he wanted, and he always wanted to be like Alexander the Great.
"I feel we may have strayed from the most important issue- our children." It was one of the parents Neville did not know. "I suppose, with your son right here, you may have forgotten-"
"My son lies in a hospital bed, where he will for the rest of his days," Augusta Longbottom interrupted. "Yes, I suppose, I know where he is. Tortured to insanity fighting dark wizards, he and his wife have left their son in my care."
The mood around the table changed considerably, yet the sad story did not necessarily prove the concern to be wrong.
"Your son was an adult, then," Mrs. Boot ventured. Neville could see so much of the young Ravenclaw in her he looked away. "Do you know where ours is?"
"No. Either he has escaped with the Weasley boy or a fate from which none can save him has already befallen him." She turned to the Grangers. "Your daughter managed to reach me by firecall, though she told me she could stay where she was no longer."
"That means she doesn't have any intention to tell you or her parents where she went," another unrecognizable parent said. That was where Gran got her idea that they might have died. If they're running scared, they must have seen something... well, they are fugitives, but the fact they can't even tell...
"Well, why didn't you ask where they were going?" someone else asked. "It doesn't matter what you have to do, we have a responsibility to keep them-"
"Safe? Alive?" another voice asked before Neville's eyes could track it. "The only way of doing that is keeping the Ministry and the Death Eaters from finding them." It was Hermione's mother. That's right... a pair of them took her hostage right before second year. We're not safe at home... even I'm probably not.
He knew that 'sitting the fence' as virtually everyone described it would not save him. They attributed it to cowardice, and at the beginning, it even seemed that way to him, and he hated himself for it. He consistently failed to understand why he consistently failed to be brave. Malfoy seemed to think he had tried too hard in an attempt to save himself, a demonstration of the irrationality of fear. A handful of the conspirators, including Leanne, characterized refusing to side with the blood purists heroic, but refusing to side with them could only mean you were one of the conspirators.
Sitting at lunch with Terry one time changed his mind.
The short of it was, the Ravenclaw told him that braving danger while afraid was the definition of courage. He had an oddly wistful look, but Neville could not remember if he knew why. By taking the path of greatest resistance, he was being stupid, which he understood, but brave enough.
"As long as you're aware and afraid of it," he added.
"Terrified."
There was no time, however, for the Hufflepuff to go over his memories, though if he started at the beginning and caught up to the present, he was sure it would not take long. The conversation around him had progressed. It seemed there were those suggesting putting the muggles out of the way, protecting them and keeping them from being used as hostages. It was not their war, after all.
"Thanks, but we'll have to reject your patronizing-"
"Edgar! Knowing when you need help-"
"This isn't helping, this is keeping us prisoner. Our son will not be motivated by threats on our lives." Who are you? He had an Irish sound to his voice, but Neville had been mistaken in the past. "He's not a chiseler any more, he's using his head, and if people come after us, we'll fight them."
Edgar, as he was called omitted any kind of confession to not knowing how to fight their pursuers, though he at least was married to a witch. The Grangers had no such advantages.
"I expect moving to Australia won't help as long as we keep our names," one of the dentists speculated. "Would the magical government of China forbid them from entering Hong Kong?"
There was a chorus of interested mutterings around the table, only just above the whispers.
"I can see where your daughter derives her cleverness, Dr. Granger," his grandmother said. That's right... Hong Kong is its own country in the Muggle world, and it's easy enough for Brits to move there. Even if the Ministers of the Imperial Palace wanted to keep Hermione's parents out for some reason, they'd have to pretend not to notice. "The Death Eaters, however, have done little to draw international ire. Appearing uninvited at the World Cup in Dartmoor and causing trouble was a jab at the Ministry's competence, not a demonstration of a tendency to word domination. The Chinese specifically would never reject them out of hand, as the Death Eaters are presently no threat to them."
Neville could hardly help but glance at the Changs, who had adopted grim expressions. To put it plainly, some Death Eaters they did not recognize produced an incredibly large, enchanted, golden dragon statue to guard the mountains of the Li river. It was unthinkable to melt down such a gift, but it appeared to be entirely gold, meaning its value was incalculable. Damn, they're even cleverer than I thought. Damn. They can't just give China a billion galleons or the economy would... do something weird, and it'd be the same if they bought something to give them, so they used the gold to make a gift. As far as he knew, the Ministry had concealed the fact that Voldemort had the Stone, which was actually a reasonable idea, but the Chinese likely had no idea that the gift was a majestic statue, to be sure, but not as much of a show of appreciation, costing the Death Eaters next to nothing.
It seemed like a good idea to put the muggle parents in one place, the better to guard them, but if they disappeared from the muggle world entirely their enemies would not have a long list of places to look. It would be possible to pretend to be sending them somewhere, but easier to fake their deaths with some amount of false memory charms, and a few transfigured corpses.
"Mr. Weasley works in Bewitching Muggle Artefacts!"
He cast his eyes downward as everyone looked at him.
"I'm sorry?"
"Well, I was thinking, if anyone wanted to pretend to be dead, we could transfigure some corpses, and just leave them in your homes. It may take a few false memory charms if anyone sees us, though, and I remembered Ron's father being rather brilliant with them. He once told me he was just fond of them, and that was why he used them more than necessary," Neville explained, rambling a bit. I also happened to be a bit proud of myself, remembering something and all.
"In all honesty, the plan might reasonably extrapolate to those of us who can perform magic," Edgar's wife said, her hand still on his arm. "Though I went through Hogwarts and passed with everyone else, I can't hardly remember everything I learned as a colleen." She looked around, as though waiting for a muggle to reveal his memory of secondary school was impeccable, and he could easily reproduce the skills he learned that had nothing to do with his work. "Most of us would fare no better against a Death Eater than a muggle, and we'd do well to admit it, so we would."
Lady Longbottom nodded.
"There is much to consider about our plans going forward, that much is sure. I called this meeting, primarily, to inform parents of their circumstances, though I could hardly have hundreds around my tea table. I shall have to ask that you treat other parents and guardians of missing students with the same respect." Looking around, Neville noticed that the Patils were absent, which made sense. Padma's on one side and Parvati's on another... if I'm not mistaken, Hermione might have told Gran about that. He checked his Remembrall, not knowing what he expected to see. In either case, it seemed better for someone to tell them privately rather than at a meeting.
One of the parents he did not recognize took a turn speaking.
"Our children confused us when they spoke of blood purists and conspirators... I'm sorry, but I don't feel I have the appropriate historical context for this sort of conflict."
The young Hufflepuff's eyes blinked into focus. That means both your kids took the same side... or at least I think it does. As far as he understood it, siblings were somewhat rare at Hogwarts, and Malfoy seemed to know why, but there were other possible explanations according to Hermione. It was less common to be born during times of hardship and bloodshed, meaning the school was lucky to be getting what it had.
"None of us will tell you which side to take, if any," the witch next to Edgar said. "It should be clear enough, however, if you listen to the history-"
"-and it will be better to have a variety of sources," someone else finished. There was a growing tension around the table.
"I called this meeting not because of our differences, but because of our common cause of having children caught up in-" his grandmother started. Her aquiline stare bore into the skull of the stranger who interrupted her.
"If we can hide ourselves, can't we hide them?"
"Our ability to hide ourselves remains unknown," the Longbottom matron responded. "Secondly, if everyone too noble for battle remained in hiding, however the war will end, it will end in the worst way possible. At my estate I shall hide no more than those who cannot fight and are unwilling to die in the attempt."
She seemed to be implicitly giving his friends as much chance of survival as a muggle targeted by Death Eaters, which was only a little unfair. In his thinking they hardly had an option at this point; wanted by the Ministry they would be chased to the ends of the Earth, unlike Anthony who was allowed to disappear because he was the least of their worries. Similarly, it seemed impossible for him or his grandmother to track his friends down and drag them into hiding; if they could run from enemies they could run from friends, and it would be better not to give the Department or anyone else an idea of where their targets were by chasing them.
Really, it only leaves me wondering where I'll end up, but I've been wondering that since I was seven, so at least I'm used to the uncertainty.
As if in an answer to his question he caught sight of Hestia Jones at the edge of the property. Great, now I have to wonder what her deal is again. He could not remember whether she was tight-lipped and all he ever got out of her was that Dumbledore assigned her to an important task, or if he forgot, but he cared not to check his Remembrall. She approached from his right and bid him rise, but he pretended not to see her. I'm pretty sure she pretended not to hear about nine parts in ten of what I needed from her.
"Neville, it appears you have a visitor."
He turned his head. He truly hated being rude, since his grandmother would always correct him, but he hardly expected Hestia to just show up out of nowhere.
"We shall be quite all right without you for the time being."
It was the gentler prodding Lady Longbottom reserved for when company was present. Might as well.
The young Hufflepuff followed his former tutor without particular complaint. They seemed to be headed for the front of the property.
"Your friends need to learn to make their own portkeys."
"Where are they?" he asked at a whisper, looking over his shoulder.
"I don't know."
"You're lying. If you made a portkey for them-"
"I am lying, but I'm lying under orders. Learn to tell the difference." Hestia turned to look at him.
"Do you have any other orders-"
"The orders end today, they do. Consider this the final act of brilliance of Albus Dumbledore, sending you, a cornerstone of the anti-Voldemort efforts, as far from the battlefield as possible-"
"What?! I- I refuse!" Neville stammered back. "I'm not hiding while all my friends are- it's literally all of them, out there fighting- just because I'm a bit forgetful doesn't mean I can't be of any use!"
"Dumbledore didn't tell me why you have to leave, only that you're important, and I'm only telling you because I need it out of you that you won't just come back," his former tutor explained, digging around in her cloak for something.
"I'm not important- well, I'm not especially important- Dumbeldore said that kind of thing about everyone! He just wants me out of the way, where I won't get hurt."
Hestia appeared to consider his words.
"That would make sense, considering what he asked me to give you," she said, extending an odd length of fabric. "It's an invisibility cloak that's served me well so far, but apparently you need it more."
"Keep it." If I'm not useful, I don't need protection.
The witch sighed, bending at the knees to meet his eyes.
"This may come as a shock to you, but I've known I'm no angel, I have. I don't really care what people do as long as they're on our side, so I'm no hypocrite either, but I did look up to Dumbledore. I still do. I can't tell you why he wanted you out of the country, and if he's giving you a cloak I can't swear to you it's not just the better to hide you. I can tell you that I trust him, and he's never once betrayed my trust, he's not."
Neville contemplated the injustice of how he was being treated, even as he was starting to look a little braver and more capable. He supposed it would not make a difference to someone like the former Headmaster, but there remained the question of why he made a difference.
"Why am I important?" he asked, noticing a change in Hestia's demeanor. She's not asking me to do my assignments or remember something for five minutes. She's asking me to trust her, or maybe trust Dumbledore.
"Well, he told me enough about that, but you'll have to forgive us both, because he told me not to tell you, he did." She put a hand on his shoulder. "He told your grandmother, and that's the only way she's letting me take you, but don't think you'll be getting it out of her."
The young Hufflepuff tried to come up with some significance he had, something his grandmother would accept, if for no other reason than at the request of her former teacher. The witch before him produced a portkey, which took the form of a small, brass button.
"I don't understand," he started back, failing to keep his voice steady. "I- I just don't understand anything. Can you at least tell me where I'm going?" I'll need to have some idea of what I'm doing there.
"Well, that's an easy one," Hestia answered, tossing him the portkey. "You're going to the only place mad enough to have you."
