Chapter 49: But It's Really You They Want
Neville observed surreptitiously how Ron was staring back at the setting sun behind them almost longingly; shifting his gaze to meet that of Hermione, the pretty brunette winced with agonizing sympathy.
After more than six months on the run, Neville had never expected their journey to take them back almost to the exact place where they had started it, fleeing Bill and Fleur's wedding. He tried not to glance back himself, in the direction he knew the Burrow to be – otherwise, he would start thinking about a heartbreaking dance, plaits of golden hair and entrancing silver eyes.
Still, it wasn't as though facing front and staring straight ahead was going to be much better in banishing those thoughts from his head, as a building resembling a wizards' chess rook loomed over the next hill, in the near distance.
Upon discovering that the locket he and Dumbledore had retrieved was a fake copy, thanks to a note hidden inside of it, Neville and his friends had gathered intelligence as to the real Horcrux's location. Initially using the abandoned house of Harry's Muggle relatives as a base of operations, Neville had eventually led his two best friends on a daring heist into the heart of the Ministry of Magic itself to retrieve it. They had gotten away the skin of their teeth, and set about trying to find out how to destroy it. It hadn't taken long before, in each taking turns wearing the locket, they had discovered how the Horcrux was alive and sentient. It had merely been a lucky guess that Neville had proposed using the sword to stab it. The Dark Magic inside had attempted to put up a fight, but Hermione and Ron, clasping their hands together over the swords' hilt, had brought it down on the pendant.
Then, the Trio had investigated Neville's birthplace of Bloomsbury, and the ruins of the house he had lived in as a baby. It had been chilling to find the remains still there, and even more chilling when Voldemort's snake found and attacked them, so that the birthplace lead came up empty.
Meanwhile, Neville had been dreaming more and more of Voldemort, sometimes seeming to dream from the monster's own perspective, which was increasingly leading Neville to believe that his and the Dark Lord's minds were somehow… connected.
He could feel the anger, frustration and stress that Voldemort was feeling. How anxious the man was to achieve, once again, treasures of value. As far as he could gather, Neville knew that Voldemort was searching for three items at once, and had already found one of them – allegedly the most powerful wand in existence.
There was apparently even a symbol for that which Voldemort was seeking – a circle inlaid into a triangle with a line running through it – and also a name: a Hallow.
Hallows and Horcruxes. Horcruxes and Hallows. It would seem that Neville and Voldemort were scouring for magical items of supreme value, almost working on parallel yet opposite tracks.
As far as the symbol went, Neville knew he had seen it before, but where?
Then he remembered: he had seen it around Xenophilius Lovegood's neck, at the wedding.
Even so, it had taken Hermione expressing the desire to possibly question Luna's father in person that had behooved them all to hike back into the hills of Devonshire. As for Ron, he was enjoying taking the mickey out on his best mate in a slightly passive-aggressive manner of teasing.
"We're seriously getting help from the father of Neville's girlfriend?"
"She's not my girlfriend," Neville stated flatly, as the Trio mounted the steps of this house shaped like a chess piece. Behind him, Ron coughed something that sounded suspiciously like, "Bollocks."
It took a few knocks before the door opened just a crack, revealing silvery eyes that made Neville's insides ache. The one orb they could see widened exponentially, and then the door was being eagerly torn open.
Neville was shocked and a little disheartened to see how disheveled Xenophilius Lovegood appeared. His robes had a beige tinge to them that suggested they hadn't been washed in days and his blonde hair – whiter in tone than his daughter's – looked matted and unkempt. Despite this, Xenophilius now sported a smile on his face so calm, it made Neville's heart constrict with reminders of Luna.
"…. Mr. Lovegood? I'm Neville Longbottom; we met at the wedding this… well, last summer," he amended. It was hard to believe it was already spring; the days had long ago started running together.
"I know who you are, boy; come with me." Xenophilius beckoned the Trio inside. He led them back into an untidy room Neville guessed must be the famed editor's office; everywhere he glanced there were stacks of books and papers. A high shelf along one wall appeared to contain zoological artifacts, including a purple-looking horn, displayed prominently.
"That's from a Crumple-Horned Snorkack; uncovered it on safari," Xenophilius explained, noticing how Neville was examining it.
Hermione frowned skeptically. "But Mr. Lovegood, I've never studied any documentation on such a creature…"
"…. Then you will appreciate what an extremely rare find it therefore is," Xenophilius talked over her. "When I found the horn, it was separated from its owner. There were not even any tracks near the site."
Hermione snorted. "Probably because the Crumple-Horn-what's-it doesn't ex….!" Neville shushed her before she could finish the sentence. Procuring a book from Hermione's bag, he flipped to a bookmarked page inside before flashing it at Xenophilius. "Sir, I hate to be pushy, but we are operating under severe constraints, so I want to know: you were wearing this at Bill and Fleur Weasley's wedding. Do you know what this symbol means?"
Xenophilius glanced between Neville, Ron and Hermione, seeming surprised that they had not heard. "Why it's the mark of the Deathly Hallows, of course."
"The what?" Neville gawked, even as his heart started to beat very fast.
Ron frowned. "But that's just an old bedtime story! Objects given to the Peverell brothers of legend…. They weren't real! Here, 'Mione, show him your book!"
Hermione dug out the copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard that had once belonged to Dumbledore – one of the many texts she had magically summoned out of his office at the end of last term.
"Who are the…. Peverell brothers?" Hermione turned the book over in her hands to read the book's title. "And who is Beedle the Bard?"
Ron appeared in categorical disbelief. "You've never heard the stories? Babbity Rabbity and her Cackling Stump? The Fountain of Fair Fortune? The Wizard and the Hopping Pot?"
Hermione allowed herself a small smile. "Ron, I was raised by Muggles. We didn't hear stories like these when we were little! I was read children's tales like Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella…"
"Cinderella? What is that, an infectious disease?" Ron blinked, even as a small, fascinated smile of his own was creeping onto his face. He never tired hearing about Hermione's Muggle childhood. Hermione giggled, as she turned the page to the chapter about The Tale of the Three Brothers.
"There were once three brothers traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight…"
"Midnight!" Ron interrupted, smiling bashfully at everyone's bemused looks. "Mum…. Mum always read midnight; it sounded better."
Pretty lips pursed but fighting off a smirk of amusement, Hermione continued on. Neville listened as she read the tale, one that, know that he thought back, he too was familiar with, for his Gran had used to read it to him. But never before had he listened to the tale for any kind of deeper meaning the way he did now. The first brother had wanted to wield an unbeatable wand, only to get carried away with his boasting until someone stole it from him and slit his throat. The second brother had wanted something that could resurrect his lost, deceased love, so Death had fashioned for him a stone that could allow him to commune with those whom had gone before. The third brother had asked for a Cloak which could turn him invisible, which he then used to hide from Death for many years. But then, upon achieving old age, the third and last surviving brother had passed down the Cloak to his son, and greeted Death like an old friend.
"He's after them," Neville breathed suddenly, feeling the scar on his forehead suddenly sear with pain. He felt Ron and Hermione glance at him with concern. "You-Know-Who is after the Hallows; he thinks they exist!"
"How?" Hermione cried. "You can't find things that don't exist!"
"But they do, dear," Xenophilius intoned solemnly.
"Please," Hermione scoffed. "They're no more real than that horn is!" And she pointed to the purple horn of the Crumpled-Horn Snorkack. "I mean, you could claim anything's real if the only basis for believing in it is that nobody's proved it doesn't exist!"
"So you could. I am glad you are opening your mind a little, Miss Granger." Even as he said this, Neville noted how Xenophilius was now moving unusually sharply. The man appeared antsy, nervous, and was hovering nearer and nearer to the door of his office.
Neville cleared his throat. "Well, thank you, Mr. Lovegood, for your hospitality, but I suppose we should be going…."
"Oh, you're not leaving so soon?" Xenophilius asked, even as his silver eyes expanded with fear. "You really must stay!"
"I'm afraid we can't, sir," Hermione tried to explain with what little reserves of patience she had left. "You see, we're fugitives…."
"I'm sorry, but I can't allow it!" And Xenophilius threw himself against the door. He appeared quite terrified. Next to him, Neville felt Ron stiffen.
"We're being set up…." the redhead murmured under his breath, a gut reaction.
From the way his head snapped sharply to take in Ron, it was clear Xenophilius heard him. The man's silver eyes were now as wide as moons, desperate. "They took my Luna. Because of what I've been writing, they took my Luna…." He now floated towards Neville and drummed his finger over the clearly visible scar. "But it's really you they want…." A strange hope now glinted in his orbs.
Neville felt his heart drop into his stomach, then past it into his shoes. Luna…. Someone had taken Luna. Ice was now in his veins. If the Death Eaters had Luna, did Voldemort know of the connection she had with the Boy Who Lived? As he peered up into the gaze of a desperate father, he wondered: did Xenophilius know, or at the very least suspect, the connection he, Neville, had with his daughter?
He found that, as misguided of a rationale as it might be, he couldn't exactly fault Xenophilius for wanting to do everything to get Luna back. Neville knew he would do the same.
Neville gulped, staring Xenophilius directly in the eye. "Who took her, sir?"
The man went ashen before he dared to speak the name. "Voldemort…."
Ron's face had tightened with rage as it all clicked in his head. "And you think You-Know-Who and his cronies will just give her back in a prisoner exchange if you hand over Neville? Sorry, no deal, we're leaving….!"
Suddenly, on the breeze, Neville could hear the WHOOSH of approaching flyers outside. The Death Eaters – they were coming!
All at once, the Rook suddenly rocked with explosions. Hermione screamed and Neville forced himself and both of his friends close to the floor.
"No! STOP!" Xenophilius threw open the door to his office and broke into a run, his voice carrying through the house. "I HAVE HIM! I HAVE THE BOY!"
As Neville and his friends began to commando crawl to the center of the room, in order to avoid falling debris from the walls, Ron gritted his teeth in anger. "Sure you still want that treacherous little bleeder as your father-in-law, mate….?"
"Bloody shut up, why don't you, Ron! Not NOW!" Neville bawled, roaring.
There was a massive shudder and for a moment, Neville feared the entire house was going to come down on top of them.
"Hang on!" Hermione yelled, before she lifted her wand and fired.
The purple horn of the Crumpled-Horn Snorkack exploded above them, giving cover to their escape as the Trio joined hands and Disapparated, seconds before the entire house came down around them.