I'm back! Yes, really. I just…felt rather uninspired for a while with this story, and I know that is no excuse. (looks away in shame) But just recently, I've picked up on it. Got my muse back. So here is another chapter (finally!) I hope you like it. Enjoy.

- Pint of Stella

Disclaimer: I'm not doing this for money.

– CHAPTER FIVE –

Neville's Clue

"Next."

Neville took one step forward as the tall witch in front of him walked briskly towards the counter. As he suspected, the lines for a portkey were painfully long, although it was still early with more than three hours to spare until noon.

The Department of International Portkeys was located in a very large (and abandoned) muggle train station across from the main ministry building. Though it was now refurbished in order to better suit its magical clientele, it still looked very much like an old train station with its large doorways, its row of ticket booths, and the constant hustle and bustle of people coming and going. But in the place of trains, there were umbrellas, hats, shoes, socks, tin cans, newspapers, coffee mugs (and any other muggle item you can imagine) enchanted and sold as portkeys to send someone anywhere from Piccadilly to Paraguay.

Unfortunately with Voldemort on the rise, there were many families eager to leave wizarding Britain, and judging by the length of the queue, Neville decided the Dark Lord's aim to encourage fear among the wizarding world was working.

After a minute, the tall witch stepped away from the counter with an old, leather purse in hand. She disappeared suddenly in a swirl of light.

"Next."

Neville stepped forward. The ministry witch peered down at him, drumming her long nails expectantly. A massive book, the pages yellowed and dog-eared, floated in the air behind her. It was open to a lengthy list of names scrawled in ink. The date, July 31st, was written in heavy, black letters at the top.

"I need a portkey, please."

The old witch sniffed. "May I have your wand?"

Neville quickly rummaged through his robes and found it stashed away in his left pocket. It was made of bright cherry wood and unicorn hair, and Neville was rather fond of it. His grandmother on the other hand thought it was filled of dark magic, since it was one of the last ones Mr. Ollivander sold before his disappearance. But then again, his grandmother always looked on the bad side of things when it came to him – and his parents.

With a bored look, the ministry witch flicked the wand once and sent a shower of golden sparks into the air. Satisfied, she handed it back.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"And where are you taking the Portkey?"

"Rosetta. In Egypt."

"When will you be returning?"

Neville hesitated, before shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe at the end of August."

The witch sniffed and pushed up her glasses. "The fee is 14 galleons."

Neville produced a small black pouch and dropped it into her outstretched hand. She weighed the gold in her fingers, before she nodded and handed him a bright blue quill.

"Please sign here."

The large book drifted forward, within reach. He grasped the quill that she handed to him and carefully wrote 'N. Longbottom' after the long column of names.

After he had finished, the witch handed him an old bowler cap, black and frayed around the edges. "You may take this, and step away from the counter."

Neville began to reach for the wide felt brim, when there was sudden outburst of voices at the far end of the line. He didn't give it much thought until he heard, among the noise, a familiar voice shouting his name.

"Neville!"

Neville turned and spotted black-robed figure was pushing through the crowd. Feeling quite startled, Neville did not call out a reply.

"Neville!"

All of a sudden, the crowd parted somewhat and Neville was shocked to find Harry Potter, looking anxious and utterly slapdashed, sprinting towards him. His trunk and bird cage were still faithfully attached to the handle of his broom, which he was swinging along haphazardly.

"H-Harry?"

"Neville wait!"

The queue of witches and wizards began to protest angrily as Harry pushed past them in line. Of course, none of them had been able to glimpse the scar on his forehead. He ran until reached his friend, who was eyeing him with a completely perplexed expression.

The ministry witch at the counter rose immediately and scowled.

"Please go to the back of the line if you want to register young man, or I will call the ministry aurors!"

But Harry simply ignored her and began speaking to Neville at once.

"You have to help me," he hissed quietly. "I have to leave. I have to get out of here. Ron, Hermione and the entire Order are looking for me and I can't let them find me or else they'll force me to back to the Burrow!"

The words tumbled from Harry's mouth at an alarming rate, and Neville hardly made any sense of it. "Harry! W-what are you talking about!"

Harry thought desperately for a way to explain. "Ron and Hermione. The Order. They don't want me going after, after him, without them. They want to protect me or something, but they're going to get themselves in trouble too, I just know it. I have to do this alone, Neville! I have to get away from everyone …and I tried…I was trying to run this morning but they found me and now…"

"Excuse me, young man! Please go to the BACK OF THE LINE," barked the ministry witch.

Neville stared in shock. "You're running away from Ron and Hermione!"

Harry let a sigh of exasperation. "I know it sounds like practically the stupidest thing on the planet, but I did it for a good cause. I wanted them to be safe…I want all my friends to be safe, I wouldn't involve you in this whole mess either, but you're the only one who can help me…"

"Young man! Are you paying any attention!"

Neville was shaking his head in disbelief. "Me? You've gone bloody mad, Harry, bloody mad –"

"Please Neville! You're meeting your uncle, that's what you said, wasn't it? Could I just stay with both of you for a really short while … just until I figure out where I could go, then I'll never bother you again. I know it's a lot to ask but I promise to pay you back somehow, as soon as I've got the chance … I just have to go somewhere no one will think to look…"

"I-I dunno Harry. If the entire Order is looking for you…"

"They can't protect me, but they don't understand that! They should start worrying about Hogwarts or something, really. About keeping the school open. Or protecting Muggleborns. But they're NOT. Please Neville! The order will catch up soon; I think Moody might've guessed which way I went …"

"But Harry…"

"Please Neville!"

Neville's expression grew strange but he said nothing.

With terrible sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry realized he was not going to help him.

"YOUNG MAN! GET TO THE BACK OF THE LINE THIS INSTANT OR I WILL ALERT THE MINISTRY AURORS–"

"Neville, please."

With a sudden resolve, Neville reached into his robes and produced a second bag of coins. Quickly, he counted out fourteen large galleons, and slapped them onto the counter. "For a second fare," he muttered hastily to the open-mouthed witch, and after grabbing Harry's arm he snatched the old bowler cap lying forgotten on the counter.

For a second nothing happened, but then, in a remarkable whirl of colour and light, the two boys disappeared.

It turned rainy that evening. The slight pitter-patter of rain drops against the windows echoed around the Burrow, but could not compete with the rising voices in the downstairs living room.

"He's a bloody idiot!"

"Ron, please. I'm upset with him too, but we've been over this a billion times. Moody's working his hardest. He's got the whole Order out searching for him, and Professor McGonagall is keeping watch at Hogwarts. But don't call him an idiot. For all we know, Voldemort could have taken control over his mind."

"Sure. Oh look! Voldemort's taking over my thoughts! I think I'll torture my family and jump off a bridge!"

"Please Ron! That's not funny!"

"I'm not joking Hermione. He didn't want us to come along with him, so he left. End of story. He is a bloody idiot."

"He's not! If he ran away he's doing it for us. He doesn't want to put us in danger, and now he's alone. You should be thankful for having such a loyal friend!"

"A stubborn prat, more like."

"Ron!"

"It's just as good that he took off. He'll get himself into trouble, and then he'll have no one there to help him."

"He won't…he won't get himself into trouble. The Order will find him. Just you see!"

"They'll find his bloody corpse, that's what."

"How could you even say that!"

"Because I'm right!"

"Would you two please just bugger off!"

Ginny slammed her book shut. Hermione and Ron gave her surprised looks, before turning away looking slightly ashamed.

"You've been arguing since Tonks left! Honestly!" Ginny snapped. "Maybe this is exactly why Harry didn't want you coming along with him! He couldn't possibly accomplish anything with the two of you fighting all the time!" She stood up, scowling. "If I were Harry, I would dread having to take you two with me. You would be absolutely no help at all!"

Ron scoffed. "Harry obviously never wanted to take you along either."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock. Hermione shot her a tearful glance, before advancing abruptly before Ron.

"Apologize to her! Apologize to her now!"

"Hermione don't."

Hermione glanced at Ginny in surprise, who now had her brows furrowed and her lips pressed together in a tight line. She shook her head, and without another word, she gathered up her book and departed up the stairs. After a minute, the door to her room slammed shut.

Hermione turned to Ron, eyes tearful. "How could you say that to her!"

He gave a slight shrug and lowered his eyes to the floor. "I didn't mean it. I'm just upset about Harry."

Hermione shook her head sadly. "But so is Ginny. And so am I." She heaved a long sigh and quietly left the room.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Severus Snape scowled when no answer came. The darkness pressed around him ominously, with merely the bright light from his wand revealing the cold metal bars of the dungeon. Surreal black shadows fell over the still, hunched form. A former student.

"Draco," Snape snarled warningly.

There was silence again, but only for a moment this time. An angry, threatening voice eventually cut through the air. "Leave me alone."

The derision behind the words came stingingly, and Snape narrowed his eyes in disapproval. "Be wary of your tone Mr. Malfoy. Had I been less inclined, your current situation, as horrible and bleak as it may seem, would have been much worse. And could be much worse."

The hunched figure remained silent.

Snape hissed quietly through his teeth. "I did my best to help your family, Mr. Malfoy, but unfortunately the Dark Lord had other plans." Slowly, Snape turned his wand away, using the light to reveal the dark corridor ahead of him. "You would do well to learn from these consequences, Draco. Perhaps you will finally begin to understand the importance of sacrifice."

When no reply came Snape glowered and stalked away irritably, pausing only briefly at the end of the corridor to call over his shoulder.

"Do not expect me to waste my time in your presence again, Mr. Malfoy. I simply thought it best to inform you that during the attack on your father's estate last night, your mother was no where to be found." He paused before adding scathingly, "perhaps Lucius isn't the one to blame for your inherited cowardice after all, seeing as your mother has fled. But believe me, the other Death Eaters will find her sooner or later and I assure you, I am not going to stop them."

The hunched figure stood up immediately, heart pounding in his ears. He flung himself in desperation at the bars of his cell. "Leave her alone!" He called hoarsely. "Tell them to leave her alone! Snape! SNAPE!"

But the doors of the dungeon had already closed.