30 July 1998 - continued
There was no sign of Harry on the drive leading up to the imposing manor home. Then Neville caught a glimpse of a disembodied trainer and sighed in relief. He had guessed correctly that Malfoy Manor was Harry's destination. As a bonus, Harry at least had the common sense to use the Invisibility Cloak Neville had returned to him.
Neville, as a junior Death Eater in reasonably good standing, could cobble together some excuse for his presence at Voldemort's headquarters, but "Blaise" was a deserter and would be captured if not killed on sight. Neville suppressed a shudder at what would happen if his true identity were discovered - not just to Harry, but to everyone who know how he had returned from a disembodied state.
He hurried after him, but was unable to catch up to Harry's now long-legged strides in his new body until they were nearly at the manor itself.
"Harry!" Neville whispered urgently. "Wait for me!"
"Alright." Once again, Neville caught a glimpse of Harry's trainer as he stepped off the drive into a gap in the looming yew hedges.
Neville paused for just a moment to send a warning to Hermione. HG, the witch escaped. She is coming to MM for you. Stay in your room and avoid any mirrors.
His Galleon heated up with a quick response. Nev, I can't leave until DM gets back. I had Greg cast an Obscuro on the bathroom mirror. I'll be fine - wish I could help you. Her irritation at being confined was evident even in the brief message.
Stay safe, he sent back. Maybe look into how we can stop her from jumping from mirror to mirror?
Hermione replied instantly. I will - I never read in any book that it was even possible to possess an inanimate object. You stay safe, too.
With that done, he stepped off the drive to join Harry. "So, we need a plan - " he began.
"Expelliarmus!"
Neville's wand - the oak wand that had belonged to his father - sprung into Harry's hand, the only visible part of his body.
"What in Godric's name are you playing at?" Neville demanded furiously. "Give that back!"
Harry lowered the hood of the cloak and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Neville, but I can't just yet. I need to be sure I'm that master of the Elder Wand. That's the plan - for me to unite the Deathly Hallows and defeat Snakeface."
"I have the cloak and the Resurrection Stone," Harry explained as Neville stared at him, aghast. "I'm almost certain the Elder Wand came back to me when I disarmed Voldy in the Great Hall, but there's a chance that Malfoy's mum became its master when she took it from me in the forest. But then she gave it back to him and I know you disarmed the git, so I had to disarm you just in case."
Harry went on urgently in the face of his skepticism. "Look, Neville - the wizard who unites the Hallows becomes the Master of Death. Voldy couldn't kill me at Hogwarts, and I disarmed him twice - and the second time I just had Ron's wand. This time I have the Elder Wand, so I know I'll win."
"I don't know, Harry," Neville temporized. He desperately wished he had his school wand on him as a spare, so he could Stun Harry and put an end to this madness, but he had left it at home. "I don't think you should try to go it alone. Hermione's done a lot of research into this, and the odds are better if we try to take the Dark Lord three against one."
"Hermione's wrong about this," Harry said with a confidence that struck Neville as unwarranted, bordering on unbalanced. "She thinks Divination is bollocks, but there's a true prophecy about me. It says 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord,' not three."
Neville eyed him warily, trying to think of something - anything - to persuade Harry to abandon what had all the hallmarks of a suicide mission. "What about Ravenclaw's diadem? During the Final Battle, you told me to kill the snake. Destroying the Horcruxes - all of them - was part of Dumbledore's plan. What changed?"
"Dumbledore died and the Death Eaters took over - that's what changed! But once I defeat Voldy, they'll slither back into their snake holes like they did in 1981 and we can search for the diadem while they regroup. We won't have to worry about Bellatrix coming back -
no one but Snakeface would be barmy enough to do that. But we can't afford months or even years trying to find a sodding tiara that Malfoy might have hidden anywhere. You know he's hiding something."
Neville could not deny it. "Malfoy's an Occlumens, Harry. It's second nature for him to hide things. I still would trust him to guard my back, or yours. Let's get him here and the three of us can challenge the Dark Lord."
"No, I don't trust him." Harry was adamant in his mistrust of any Slytherin, and Malfoy in particular.
"Do you at least trust me to guard your back?" Neville asked plaintively.
"Of course," Harry said without hesitation.
"Then give me my wand back." Neville held out his hand.
"Not just yet," Harry temporized. "I have to be sure I'm the master of the Elder Wand."
In desperation, Neville lunged for his wand.
"Flipendo!" Harry sent him sprawling with a jinx and then eyed him with disappointment. "I guess I can't trust you either." He pulled the cloak back over his head. Moments later, the one of the massive front doors creaked open and then was shut by invisible hands.
Neville scrambled off the ground and followed Harry into Malfoy Manor, helpless to do anything else. He could hear voices coming from the drawing room that Voldemort favored and headed in that direction, just in time to see Harry drop the Invisibility Cloak and stride into the room.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle! I challenge you to a wizards' duel!"
Neville, from his position just outside the door, winced. This was not a plan, it was madness.
Voldemort looked down from his throne-like chair, an expression of bored amusement flickering across his inhuman face. "Blaise Zabini," he jeered. "You have returned. Foolish boy."
He turned to the masked Death Eaters flanking him. "Seize him!"
With a quick Incarcerous from one Death Eater, followed by a Crucio from the other, Harry was bound on the floor, howling in pain.
Neville gripped his Galleon and broadcast an urgent message: "Malfoy Manor drawing room. Come quickly - Harry Potter captured and in trouble." It was a tremendous risk, sending a message to everyone in possession of one of many communication Galleons Hermione had created, but this was an emergency. Harry's death would crush the resistance and enable Voldemort to seal his victory.
Without a wand, and not knowing when or if any help would arrive, there was little Neville could do other than observe and assess the odds. There were several Death Eaters in the room, including competent duelers like Avery and the Selwyns, as well as more than a dozen Snatchers.
"Bring Zabini to me," Voldemort ordered. Neville wondered if the Dark Lord was weakening in his new form, reliant on Death Eaters to carry out his commands, or if he merely enjoyed ordering others to do his bidding.
One of the masked Death Eaters - Thorfinn Rowle, based on his massive size - levitated Harry and dangled him before the Dark Lord. Voldemort's red eyes delved into Harry's dark ones for several moments until the Dark Lord drew back with a sibilant sound of displeasure.
"The whelp thinks he is the new Chosen One, a reincarnation of Harry Potter. Is not murdering that troublesome brat twice enough?"
Martin Selwyn stepped forward with a nervous cough. "My lord, Blaise has often been prone to delusions. I blame his mother and his upbringing. Whatever you saw in his mind is to be pitied as insanity, not believed."
"Perhapsss," Voldemort hissed, steepling bone-white fingers under his chin. "Give me your arm, Selwyn. I'll summon Charlus Nott to question him more thoroughly. Much more thoroughly," he added with a sinister chuckle.
Voldemort tapped his wand to Selwyn's Dark Mark and Neville breathed a silent sigh of relief that Harry was not going to be killed out of hand. But that was a brief flicker of hope in a grim situation, one that was snuffed out by a movement he saw from the corner of his eye.
Out of the Dark Lord's line of sight, Percy Weasley slipped into the room, wand raised and eyes focused on Harry's prone form with a determined expression on his freckled face. Percy was breathing hard, having sprinted from the manor's Apparition point, probably in response to the emergency message Neville had broadcast using his Galleon.
Neville's grandmother's words echoed in his mind. Percy Weasley? He's far too poor and ambitious to be trusted. You should have Obliviated him immediately!
The younger Selwyn was moving in, his wand up as well. But Percy was ahead of him, the tip of his wand glowing a sickly green as he began to mouth an incantation.
Neville had mere moments to decide.
"There are all kinds of courage . . . " That was what Dumbledore had claimed, before awarding Neville ten points for standing up to his friends, back when they were children.
" . . . if anything happens to me, you're our last hope to end this. I'm not just asking you to try and kill Voldemort. You may need to die." That was what Harry had told him at the Final Battle, before walking into the forest to challenge the Dark Lord alone.
And Neville had promised - had sworn - on his magic, and Hannah, and his grandmother and everyone and everything he held dear, that he would do whatever it took to defeat Voldemort. Even without a wand.
He closed his eyes, fists clenched tight, and leapt, interposing his body between the Boy Who Lived and a deadly curse.
Then . . .
Nothing.