"Frank! Frank, you have to wake up! You have to tell us where Neville is!"
I could hear Harold still trying to get any sense out of him. He'd been trying for most of the last 20 minutes, at this point we all realized that the best we can do is try to find their son. The only thing we got out of Franks wife was that he was still somewhere in the house, alive, before she collapsed and stopped breathing.
Carly, the team's medic was still trying to stabilize her. I could hear them clearly in the next room as I search for any further signs as to why this happened. It had been over two years since Voldemorts downfall. Why this? Why now? Why them?
Steady, Finnegan. Moody always told us there'd be days like this.
It hit me that our team was now down to just the four of us.
"Neville, put your toys away! Now, son. You have to put them away, away, away...they go like highland soldiers..."
I return to the pantry where we found them. Frank was holding onto his wife like a lifeline, trying to keep her breathing. Both of them had been bruised and battered from the inside out, from that dammed cruciatius curse. It was humming out of them so badly it hurt anyone to be in physical contact with them.
I take a deep breath.
Profile.
There are toys scattered around, and tea on the table, two cups, two saucers, and a tippy-cup. They weren't expecting company. I walk back to the kitchen, where the door was clearly opened from the inside, but from the marks in the wall and a broken chain-lock was forced from the outside.
Visitors came, knocked at the back door. One of the two Longbottoms answered the door, and had it forced out of his or her hand. Spell marks on the wall. Both of them had been aurors long enough that they'd always keep their wands with them. One held the intruders off while the other probably put Neville out of harms way and ran back to find said intruders torturing their spouse. There had to have been more then three, they could have dealt with that few, unless they were upper-level death-eaters.
But they weren't killed outright. Either this lot didn't have the power to do it, or they weren't trying to kill them. It was torture. Torture was used for extracting information. Well, one female was stunned down in the yard still in her robes and mask. If I have to give her moer truth serum then they gave Lupin, we'll know what happened and why.
Frank was telling Neville to put the toys away again. I remember from visits to the house over the past five years that they had a nursery upstairs. I walk quickly to the front hall and run up stairs. I didn't hear it before, but I hear a faint tapping coming from one of the rooms.
"Neville? Neville sweetie, you can come out- it's auntie Lory."
I hear more faint scratching. Desperate parents do desperate things. I realize the door to the nursery is locked magically from the outside. Breaking the simple charm, I open the door. And there is a small three-year-old looking very lost and scared holding a blanket on the carpet. I bend down and open my arms to my Godson.
As he had done many times before, he ran into my arms. Thankfully, I had visited as much as I had and he recognized me. I rocked him until he fell asleep, exhausted. It didn't take that long. I remembered that his Grandmother didn't live all that far from here. I picked him up and carried him downstairs and let Harold and the remaining members of our team know where I was going.
"Thank the Light. Get the kid out of here, Lory. Mungo's is going to move them, and I don't think he's old enough yet to really understand what's going on." Thinking of the look on the little boy's face and how quiet he's been, I think he understands all too well. Then I hear a voice I didn't expect.
"Neville... All right?" It was Frank. He was lucid. I make sure the child is still sleeping and carry him over to Frank. It might help him to hold on if he sees his son.
"Yes, Frank, we have him. We're going to take him to your mothers until you get well, okay? You have to get well. For his sake." A look of tension left his face and body, a strange smile crept over his face. Then his eyes lost focus.
"He put his toys away, good boy." His eyes cleared again.
"Lory, check up on him until I can, you'll do that?" It cost him to say that, I could tell.
"Of course I will." He beckoned me to bring the boy closer to him. As he lightly touched the boys face, Neville's eyes opened. Franks said in a voice barely above a whisper: "I love you, son."
Then all sense left his eyes and he began babbling again.
I carried the boy out to where the broomsticks were. I found my Silver Arrow II, and flew off into the night wrapping an invisibility cloak around us as I flew. The boy was shaking with quiet crying.
Apparently one of my team members had contacted the senior Longbottom's, they were on their front porch as I un-cloaked and landed. I handed the boy over to his grandfather; I realized I had tears on my face. His grandmother was also openly weeping and her eyes held much turmoil.
She took two steps, placed her hands on my shoulders, briefly embraced me, backed up and said, "We both have lived with the fear that something like this was going to happen, my husband and I. Now it has, and we have to get on with our work. You go catch the bastards that did this, and I'll," she paused for a deep breath, "go take care of my grandson."
With much dignity and pride, she squared her shoulders and walked back into the house. I got back on my broomstick, re-cloaked, and flew back to the Longbottom's.
It was going to be a long night, and I had a prisoner to question.