The next day, Voldemort took Azkaban. The Ministry wizards defending it were all killed, many by the Dementors, who had gone over to Voldemort exactly as Dumbledore had predicted they would. The cells had been emptied, their inhabitants now swelling the ranks of the Death Eaters.
When Voldemort had finished at Azkaban, he came for Hogwarts. The combined magical forces of Voldemort and the Death Eaters brushed through Dumbledore's defences and bore down on the castle proper. The teachers lined the walls, wands held at the ready. Dumbledore's Army stood among them, Harry and Hermione at Dumbledore's side. Hagrid stood with them. Though he had no wand, a motley squadron of the more unpleasant beasties of the Forbidden Forest were at his command.
There was a brief crackle and retort as spells were exchanged, curses and hexes sliding harmlessly off each other.
There was a sharp crack of a command, and the masked Death Eaters simlutaneously lowered their wands. There was a movement in their ranks, and they parted like a black sea. A figure, deeply robed and cowled in black, strode froward, a Death Eater three steps behind him to the right, a Dementor gliding to his left. The face that looked up at the battlements was cold, reptilian, and breath-takingly beautiful. Voldemort's icy eyes swept the lines of defence, amusement flickering in their depths. A smirk slid across his face as his gaze came to rest on Dumbledore and Harry.
"Don't worry, old man," he said, his voice carrying clearly through the still air, sending chills up the spine of all present. "I'm not here for your precious school - nor for you, Potter. Our time will come."
"What do you want, Tom?" Dumbledore asked calmly, his wand steady.
Voldemort's mouth twisted into a snarl. "Never use that filthy Muggle name on me, old man!" His shoulders heaved briefly, then he seemed to regain control of himself, lifting his chin again. "But since you ask, I want what's mine."
There was a sudden scuffle at the main doors of the castle. Everyone heard Pansy's cry of, "Let me go!" and a male voice yelling, "Expelleramus!" Then, amazingly, the doors began to creak open. Pansy tumbled out and almost scurried to Voldemort's side. He smiled at her, a self-satisfied smirk, and patted her on the head as if she were a dog. In ones and twos, Slytherins began to march out of the castle. Dumbledore called their names as they went, imploring them, but none turned.
Draco was the last one out, his pale blond hair gleaming in the winter sun as he flicked his wand perfunctorily at the castle doors, shutting them. Neville wasn't aware that he was moving until he hit the parapet, leaning as far over as he could.
"Draco, no!" his voice range out unnaturally loud.
He paused, then slowly turned back, looking up at Neville. Their eyes held silent communion - Neville begging him to stay, offering him the chance to play the hero, and Draco apologised for what he had to do. It lasted less than a second, and Draco turned away again. Neville sagged, defeated.
"A friend?" Voldemort rumbled as Draco approached.
"A no one," he reeplied coldly, the sneer evident in his voice.
Voldemort looked up again, and then at the students and teachers lining the walls. "Anyone else?" he called. "Severus? Come to your senses yet?"
"Get out of here, Voldemort," Dumbledore said, drawing himself up. "Go!"
Still smirking, Voldemort dropped his head in acknowledgement and turned, striding back through the Death Eaters with his arms around the shoulders of Draco and Pansy, the Slytherins following behind. The Death Eaters fell in behind, a black mass that suddenly vanished, leaving only the shocked school gaping after them.
Hogwarts was no longer safe. All classes were cancelled, and every student up to fourth year was sent hom or to relatives. Fifth year and up were given the choice of going with the younger forms or staying at the school for intensive defensive training, and all spells useful in a magical war. It was made very clear that this was not the Boy Scouts, it was a regiment training for war. Most of Hufflepuff went home, the few remaining almost all seventh years who had helped Harry at one point or another. Twenty Ravenclaws stayed and almost all the remaining Slytherins as well, as if to account for their Housemates' desertion. To the man, the Gryffindors stayed.
Neville surprised everyone by volunteering before even Harry had a chance.
To make it short, there was a war. It was long and brutal, witches and wizards dying daily. And it didn't stay in England. It spread to the rest of Europe, then Asia and north Africa. And Voldemort was winning. He had complete control of all his forces, while the other side's generals were scattered and bickering. The Aurors worked alone, no one would use the HOgwarts students, the Ministry bogged itself down in bureaucracy. The nominal leader of their forces was Dumbledore, but four months after the beginning of the war was assassinated in a blitzkrieg attack that left fourteen top Death Eaters dead. Harry stepped into the role built for him. With Hermione as tactician, he lead a series of attacks on Voldemort's forces, relying on speed and simplicity, devastating to an enemy who prized ceremony and appearances.
At the same time that Harry was growing to prominence, Draco was making his own mark on the other side. Lucius was also dead, killed in a raid by the ex-Hogwarts students. Draco acted the carbon copy of his father, rapidly gaining a reputation as a cold and calculating killer, his logic more frightening than his father's impassioned hatred, until Draco's name was mentioned with almost as much fear as Voldemort's.
With every new report, Neville wondered if those evenings in the ruins above Hogwarts had been a dream.
A mistake was inevitable. Harry was good, but he was still just barely eighteen. Three Ravenclaws died silently as they stood guard outside the Burrow, taken over as their HQ when the Weasleys had scattered to their own tasks. They moved through the sleeping house, effectively capturing the ringleaders; Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Justin Finch-Fletchley, two Ravenclaws and two Slytherins.
Neville came to consciousness abruptly, and felt the top of a wand move away fom his forehead. He blinked, gazing around the room with narrowed eyes, taking it all in. They were in a huge chamber, the floor marble-lined, flawless marble columns rising to the vaulted ceiling high above. A gigantic black throne stood on a dais at one end, the dais sweeping out in a curve, with three steps leading to the floor. The throne was pure back, and gigantic violently green snake was draped across its back. Dath Eaters lines the walls, still as statues. Neville was standing in the centre of the chamber, a Death Eater holding his hands behind his back and a wand pointed at his head. Hermione and Ron were standing beside him, in a similar position.
Neville realised with some horror that there were bodies pile to either side, their blank-eyed faces grown familiar from fighting beside them. Harry was on his knees, hands bound behind him, facing them, and from the look in his eyes he had been forced to watch as they were killed - probably painfully, most definitely slowly. Voldemort's cruel face was twisted in amusement as he stood over his enemy, who had begun to struggle when the Death Eaters had woken his friends.
"I would love to kill you myself," Voldemorts purred. "But one must keep the minions happy." He turned and swept up to the throne, sitting down regally and reaching up to stroke the snake who lopped about his shoulders.
Neville started as a very familiar figure stepped out of the shadows. The green lining was gone from his robes, and his hair was longer. But he was still very much Draco. The strut, the insolent smirk, the grey eyes snapping with humour, all of it. Twirling his wand absently in one hand, he strutted down the steps, idly circling the kneeling Harry.
"Hello, Potter," he said, with the usual venom in his voice as he practically spat Harry's name. "You've been busy. I'm surprised you've managed to deal after we popped off the old coot. I didn't know you function without someone to suck up to."
"Speak for yourself, Malfoy," Harry growled. "Still can't think for yourself, only now you're dancing to Tom's tune instead of Snape's."
Abruptly, Draco kicked Harry, a sidewinding heel to the jaw that knocked him backwards. "Never speak the Dark Lord's name!" he snarled, hauling Harry upright again by his black fringe. Ron gave a shout, struggled briefly, and was subdued.
Then, almost casually, Draco began circling him again. "Do you remember our first encounter with old Mad Eye?" His eyes gleamed strangely. "He turned me into a ferret and bounced me around the corridor. When I catch up to him, I'll repay him for that. But for now, I guess I'll get just get you for starting it!"
Neville's brow creased. Why bring up that memory? There were dozens of other insults Draco could have brought up. Twigged by this oddity, Neville was already on edge when Draco almost lazily pointed his wand at him.
"Crucio!"
Neville screamed, twisting. The Death Eater let him go as he fell, still screaming, to the floor. Neville, however, felt no pain. There had been no force behind the spell, the only effect an uncomfortable tingling. He screamed and writhed, one eye on Draco. When he lowered his wand, Neville subsided, gasping, lying as if dazed at the feet of the Death Eater.
"Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked, struggling against her captor.
Draco smirked. "You wanted something, Mudblood?"
There was a murmur through the assembled Death Eaters. "Kill the Mudblood . . . kill the Mudblood . . . kill her . . ."
Draco glanced over his shoulder at Voldemort, who was grinning like a cat in the cream. The Dark Lord gestured for him to go ahead. Draco nodded, smirking. He raised his wand, and the Death Eater holding Hermione backed away, his wand trained on her to keep her from running. Neville tensed, readied himself. Ron began to struggle.
"Avada . . ." the Draco was turning, bringing the wand to bear on Voldemort himself, moving too fast to be stopped. ". . . Kedavra!"
In the blinding flash of green light burst from Draco's wand, Neville was moving. Flailing out awkwardly, he tripped the Death Eater behind him, and was on his feet as he fell into the one who had been holding Hermione. Neville grabbed an abandoned wand and flung a transfiguration spell at Voldemort, slumped on the throne. He hadn't quite meant to, but Voldemort bubbled and shrank into the limp form of a ferret.
Draco dove sideways, Stunning or Binding the few Death Eaters not still stunned by events. Ron had stomped on his captor's doot, slugging him the second he let go. The snake was rearing, the ferret was twitching, Death Eaters were shouting and curses were being flung their way. Neville joined Draco in trying to keep the Death Eaters at bay, while Hermione grabbed one of the fallen Death Eater's wands, Stunned the snake, and shouted, "Accio ferret!"
The furry tyrant flew into her hand, twitching slightly. Ron stumbled down the steps, a stolen wand in hand, and hauled Harry up.
"Back of the hall, go right," Malfoy snapped. "I'll cover you."
"The hell you will," Neville growled. "You're coming with us."
Draco glanced at him in surprise, then nodded. They began running towards the back, ducking hexes and curses, Hermione clutching the ferret and Ron supporting Harry. It was a flat-out run through the mansion, Draco neutralising every defence.
"The Weasley girl's outside," Draco panted as they ran. "You've been here for two days. I sent an owl to her as soon as you were brought in, but she doesn't know I sent it."
Neville just nodded. Hermione was in the front, blasting away everything in their path. Ron and Harry, his legs weak from kneeling, hurried after. Draco was just behind Neville, and behind them was the irate mob of elite Death Eaters. They burst out onto the vast manicured sweep of lawn.
"To the trees!" Draco cried. "Get Potter out of here!" He stopped abruptly, turned as if to face down the mob.
"Don't be an arse, you bloody drama queen," Neville snorted, grabbing his arm. "Run!"
There were shouts from the woods ahead of them, and Ginny stepped out of the darkness, flanked by two other students. "You're alive!" she gasped. Harry just nodded. Ginny motioned them back into the woods. "The Aurors are on their way." She glanced out, saw Neville and Draco running towards them and her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to soeak, but clapped her hands over it as if to supress a scream. A wave of Dementors had zoomed over the mansion, flying low just above the horde of Death Eaters, only yards behind Draco. One in the lead raised his wand as Neville glanced over his shoulder. He threw a desperate blocking spell over his shoulder just as the man screamed, "Avada Kedavra!"
The two spells slid off each other, sending the no-longer fatal blast of green light smacking directly into Draco's back. The blond boy went flying through the air, his eyes wide and unseeing. Neville twisted, the weight of Draco's body knocking him to the ground. Draco's lips slid over Neville's briefly, then the lucidity faded from his eyes and he sagged, lifeless, into Neville's arms.
Onwards to part IV! Excelsior!