Chapter Nine – Longbottom and Lucius

Neville Longbottom was shaking from head to toe. He wasn't sure if it was from fear or anger. And the more he thought about, the more he realized that it was probably a mixture of both.

How dare someone say that to Hermione! Let alone a teacher. Neville liked Hermione. He always thought she was kind, and much sweeter than anyone else in the school. She was the one who helped him with Charms, Potions,…and just about every subject he took.

Angrily, Neville carelessly dropped his cauldron next to Lavender's, and hustled backed to his seat. He hastily gathered his books and bag together, and rapidly ran from the room.

He looked at his schedule, and saw "Care of Magical Creatures" was next. He groaned. He was awful with the animals that Hagrid supplied them with—they were always somehow dangerous. And Neville wasn't good when it came to danger.

He walked down the halls, and to his utter dismay, Draco Malfoy walked up behind him. He stiffened just a bit, afraid of the platinum haired boy. As he heard Malfoy's steps quicken, he quickened his own, and was almost at a jogging pace, when Malfoy came up to Neville's side.

"Hello, Neville," Malfoy said, without a hit of displeasure.

Slightly surprised, Neville Longbottom jumped. "Oh!" He wasn't sure what to do, but in order to keep the kindness at hand, he stuttered, "Oh…He-hello."

Malfoy smiled at Neville, to Neville's alarm, and he walked away.

Neville stared at Malfoy's back, stunned at what had just happened. He knew something was wrong: something was going on. I may not be smart, Neville thought to himself, but I know when something fishy is going on.

^*^*^

"Why isn't he here?" Lucius spat, while a unspeakable feeling filled the pit of his stomach. "If he doesn't show up—" he shuttered at the images that filled his head.

"I hope," the other man said coldly, "for your sake, that your son does show up."

Lucius looked that him nervously, and he began to fiddle with his robes. He knew he wouldn't live to see the next day if Draco didn't come to the meeting soon. And they way things were going, it didn't look good.

Voldemort, the other man in the room, grinned smugly. "I believe I'll be needing this." From his cloak, he pulled out his long, phoenix hair wand.

The eyes on Lucius' face widened, and his hands began to shake. Salty sweat slowly dripped down his forehead, and his throat was deprived of the usual wet saliva.

As the seconds ticked by, Voldemort became angrier. "One minute, Lucius. You have one minute." Voldemort's scowl changed into a smug grin. "And trust me, you won't be the only one to die. You're son will have to pay the price too."

Lucius rolled his eyes. He really didn't care what happened to his son: it was more important what would happen to him.

Voldemort looked at the clock on the wall. One minute had passed. He looked around and saw no sign of Draco anywhere.

"Well," he said, "it seems your son really isn't faithful, is he Lucius."

Lucius panicked. "No, sir, give him a few more minutes! He'll be here, I promise—"

"Avandra Kedavra!"

Lucius' body fell to the cold ground.