A/N: One chapter left. I don't know whether to cry or celebrate. Thank you guys so much for the long reviews last chapter. Onwards!

Lost: One Godson, Answers to Harry

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The sun dallied low on the horizon, casting a soft pink light over the roofs of Little Hangleton. From its daytime perch in the loft of the whitewashed parish, a gull squawked across the town square and took flight for the night. The streets below were still and silent, and the gull kept its bright eyes focused on the forest beyond. It swooped lazily over the road and the village behind receded out of sight as it spied the abandoned human hut where it had made its nest. Blinking as it measured up the wind, the gull tipped its wings and circled around the hut, descending steadily towards the treetops.

Movement above caught the gull's eye and the backdraft of something huge and un-bird-like tossed it crazily in mid-air. It spiralled over, pulling its wings in, and then the gull had half a second to react before an enormous, sky-coloured motorbike tyre slammed into it. Needless to say, even its finest instincts were not prepared for this.

"What was that?" Maud shrieked as a cloud of white feathers washed past her.

"We hit a bird!" Sirius shouted, turning the motorbike towards the ground.

Maud gave another ear-splitting wail as they tipped downwards and her stomach began to crawl desperately towards her mouth. "We're falling…!" she screamed.

"No, we're landing," he replied at the top of his voice, but the wind roaring past them snatched his words away to join the feathers.

Maud did not stop screaming until they hit the ground with an ungainly thud. Sirius let the engine of the bike die and then pried Maud's fingers from around his waist. The Disillusionment charm that had kept them hidden broke at last and they both returned to their normal level of visibility. Maud toppled sideways off the bike and onto the lumpy ground. She scrambled to her feet, and probably it was not only the residue of the Disillusionment that made her face as green as the grass that grew up past her ankles.

"Wh-what're we doing here?" she murmured, holding her hand over her stomach and making a queasy face. They were standing in a small clearing overlooked by thick-branched trees. A little way away in the shade of several twisted hawthorns leaned a ramshackle hut with barely a roof-tile to its name. Moss seemed to be holding its foundations together and its door was hanging open, the hinges black with rust.

Sirius grabbed her arm above the shoulder and marched Maud towards the hut. "We've run out of time. The sun's going down and in half an hour you'll be even more hairy and murderous than you already are. We saw the village from the air – describe to me the house where Harry is and I'll go the rest of the way myself. You have to stay here."

"Let me go! I want to come! Don't leave me!" Maud wriggled weakly in his grasp, still too ill from their mad flight to put up much of a struggle.

"No," Sirius shoved her in through the door of the hut and ducked in after her, wrenching the door shut behind him. There was enough light coming through the holes in the roof to see clearly by but every surface within the hut was covered in such a thick layer of dirt it did not look as if it had ever been occupied by people. Maud collapsed into what might have been a chair in a former life.

"Greyback will be looking for me," she sniffed, watching with glittering eyes as Sirius began to circle the hut, tapping curiously at the chimney. "What if he smells me out?"

"What? With a whole village of Muggles half a mile away?" Sirius said pointedly, poking the sturdiest bricks of the chimney with his wand. "Maud, he's going to be as much a wolf as you. The Death Eaters won't let him on the loose."

She did not argue this. "What are you doing?" she asked gruffly.

"Looking for somewhere to put the chains," he answered. "You don't think I can let you run round by yourself with a full moon out, do you?"

Her jaw fell open and the green tinge of her cheeks paled to white. She leaped to her feet, disturbing a cloud of dust as she did so. "Don't you come near me!"

"Maud," Sirius began with as much patience as he could muster. He still wanted to shake her whenever he looked at her and thought of what she had done to Lupin. "This is for your safety as well as everyone else's. There could be wizards in that village tonight as well as muggles."

Maud whimpered as he began to conjure thick silver manacles out of thin air. Her voice diminished into a squeak. "I…I'm scared of magic, you know…it always…always used to make me cry. Greyback never did magic in front of me if he could help it, but R-Remus never understood why I was so upset all the time…"

Sirius looked up at her and the terror cast on her face was real. She really was scared of magic! He thought of how Maud had reacted around all the Order members when she had first been brought to Grimmauld place and he suddenly understood how frightened she must have been every moment of living around wizards. It was as if someone had suddenly shone a spotlight on the trembling, muddy creature in front of him. They'd all treated Maud with such derision and disgust and she had been so ill mannered in return – and all the time, she must have been miserable, a prisoner surrounded by that which she dreaded.

But they were running out of time – he could feel sorry for Maud later. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to stand it for one night," he said, setting the ends of the chains into the lowest bricks of the chimney with a flick of his wand.

"I hate you!" Maud moaned. "You don't give a sneeze about whether I live until morning! I want to leave, now!"

She made a dash for the door and Sirius grabbed her wrist and snapped the first manacle on. Maud howled and tugged furiously at it, to no avail. She was caught tight. She couldn't escape when Sirius took a hold of her other wrist and chained that one as well, though she did try to take a bite out of the back of his hand during the melee.

Sirius retreated to the door again and kicked it open while Maud drew towards the shadows in the most intact corner of the shack, dragging her chains across the floor. Crouched in the dirt with her bare ankles and the gaping chimney-mouth not far away, she looked like some ugly Cinderella character awaiting a fairy godmother that would never come.

"Where's the house I'm looking for?" he asked. The setting sun made a rectangle of light on the far wall of the shack.

Maud sniffed and said reluctantly, "It's the big one on the far hill."

He paused, then, a little awkwardly, "Thank you."

"You'll come back?" her voice, filled with self-pity, floated over to him.

"After dawn," Sirius promised, and dragged the ancient door shut. He looked over at his bike sitting peaceably in the fading sunlight and thought briefly about flying it the rest of the way. But dropping out of the sky on a motorbike in the middle of a Muggle village would be just as dangerous as landing it on the roof of a Death Eater infested mansion. He would have to keep his presence unknown and walk the rest of the way.

Regretfully he dragged the bike a little into the trees, lay it down beside a particularly contorted oak and cast another Disillusionment charm. From the shack behind him, Maud's beady eyes watched him through the tiny window. Sirius spied the remnants of a path winding away into the trees, focused on the picture of his godson on his mind, and set off for Little Hangleton.

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"Harry."

Green eyes stared blankly at the high-beamed ceiling. Harry's lips moved soundlessly and Neville shook his shoulder harder. His joyous relief was ebbing. Ten minutes had gone past since that blinding white light had filled the room and Voldemort had disappeared, and Harry had yet to speak or make any response.

"Harry!"

With exasperating slowness, Harry's eyes left the ceiling and focused on Neville's face.

"Are things…well?" he asked in a hoarse voice, touching his head gingerly and making a pained face.

"Yeah," Neville said with a smile. "Things are good. But we've got to get out. That Bellatrix woman took off, I couldn't stop her – she'll get the rest of the Death Eaters and come back for us…"

"Alright," Harry said, closing his eyes and rolling over onto his side sluggishly. It took Neville an age to convince him to get to his feet, and even once he was upright it seemed his balance was having a break from duties. Neville had to hang on to Harry's arm just to keep him from flopping back onto his face, and with his glasses smashed the boy was practically blind as well. Neville regretfully put the ruined glasses in his pocket, hoping he might be able to remember the spell to repair them later.

"Ron," Harry said groggily, clutching his head. "What'd we drink last night? Where're we going?"

Neville was sidestepping the unconscious Malfoy lying beside the door and slipping out into the darkened hall beyond. Here he paused, trying to figure out whether to light his wand or not. It would give them away in an instant if there were anyone about, but on the other hand, this was no time to be playing blind man's bluff.

It took Neville a moment to register what Harry had said. He frowned when he realised what Harry had called him. "I'm not Ron," he said absent-mindedly. "I'm Neville – remember?"

"Hermione said," Harry took a breath and closed his eyes tightly again as if he was struggling with a pain in his stomach. "Hermione said we weren't to go to the kitchens except at night…someone might see me …"

"It's night," Neville said, looking around as Hermione's name entered the conversation but still completely lost as to what Harry was talking about. His companion must have hit his head during the fight, but there was no time to sit down and sort his brains out just now. "Do you know this house? Where's the nearest door?"

"Kitchen," Harry said. Whether this was a direction or whether Harry still thought he was talking to Ron, Neville couldn't be sure. He decided he would have to take a chance on it being the former. Feeling his wand roll in his sweaty hand, he took a firm hold of Harry's wrist and hurried down the dark corridor of the mansion, his ears pricked for the faintest sound. His heart was drumming a staccato against his ribs.

"Where now?" Neville whispered as they met a junction in the corridor. Harry raised his hand, pointed to the left passageway and Neville pulled them both down it.

They came out beside a carpeted flight of stairs, moonlight trickling through the rippled window high on the wall at the end of the passage. There were a number of doorways along this hallway, all closed and unmarked. Neville was starting to feel ill from anticipation. Surely Bellatrix should have roused someone by now?

Almost as soon as he thought it, there was a bang, the sound of raised voices and several pairs of feet from the floor above them.

Neville felt his stomach try to crawl into his windpipe and hide. "Harry," he nudged the boy. "Quick. Where now?"

Harry shook his head, rubbing the scars on his cheeks. "When's Remus coming back to London to see us?" he asked, without lowering his voice. Neville winced at the volume and tried to hush him but it was as if Harry couldn't even hear him. "He said he was going to teach me about…about Grindylows…" Harry said tonelessly, suddenly leaning drunkenly against the wall so that Neville, who was still holding his arm, nearly overbalanced.

"He's not here! Where do we go?" Neville hissed, glancing up the stairway.

There was a light growing at the top.

Neville grabbed both of Harry's elbows and propelled him along the corridor. He pulled open the nearest, plainest door he could see and pushed Harry inside, squeezing in after and dragging the door shut as quietly as he could. He could hear thumping footsteps coming down the stairs as he tried to keep Harry from falling over and not bump into the wall the same time. His wand got wedged against the handle of the door and fell out of his grasp. In the blackness he knelt, his hands scrambling across a cool concrete floor until they met the thin wooden rod. He felt for the keyhole as a glow welled up in it, casting a thin searchlight beam as someone on the other side shone their lit wand on the door.

"Sirius," Harry mumbled. "I don't want to have to move again…I've only just got settled at this school…please, can't we just stay here for once…"

Neville wanted to tell him to shut up but he was trying to hold his breath along with the handle of the door as the light on the other side grew brighter. He heard a rapid thumping from behind him but it was too dark to see what it was, and his ears were straining to make out the speech of the Death Eaters in the corridor outside.

"Check all the doors," a harsh voice called to someone on the far side. Neville felt the staccato beat in his ribcage miss a beat and start double-speed to make up for it. The handle of the door jumped against his palm as someone unseen took a hold of it on the far side.

"Come on, they're not going to be in there – you two, get to the hall and find Lucius – Bellatrix, follow me, they might've already left the house –"

The pressure of the handle loosened. Neville watched the wand-light dim in the keyhole and go out. He let his lungs deflate from relief and slid down the wall. Once the footsteps receded he lit his own wand and turned to look at Harry.

Harry was gone. Neville stumbled to his feet and raised his wand, staring down a cramped flight of stairs. Harry was the bottom, lying in a crumpled heap of black robes with his arms thrown out. Neville said a word that Ron used a lot and took the stairs three at the time, running one hand along the wall because there was no railing.

Harry's eyes were half-closed but Neville could not see blood or unnatural angles on his limbs.

"Hey," he croaked, wanting to shake the boy but scared to hurt him if something was broken. "You alright? How'd you…?"

Harry groaned and curled up on his side. "Mum," he said plaintively, in a tiny voice. "I hurt my ankle. I'm sorry…I was playing with Dad's broomstick…"

Neville was only just beginning to understand that his companion really had no idea where he was or what was going on. "Harry, wake up!" he said frantically, trying to pull the boy to his feet. Harry didn't seem able to support his own weight, and he was holding his left leg awkwardly. Neville pulled one of the boy's arms around his shoulders and heaved him upright.

As he pulled Harry up, the light from his wand fell across the room they were in. A tiny window was set deep into one wall, and judging by the grass that was growing through the bars it was at ground level, which put them underground in a cellar of some kind. The walls were mouldering plaster and the floor foot-worn blocks of stone. A chair sat empty in the weak light coming through the window, and in the far corner of the room was a small, ragged mound like a pile of dirty washing.

Neville froze, trying to spot any movement. There was no doubt the mound was a body. "Who're you?" Neville called, trying to keep his voice even.

The body didn't move or answer. Still supporting most of Harry's weight, Neville shuffled closer, holding his wand as far out as possible to make out the features of the body. All he could see was the scraps of torn and filthy robes and a pile of hair where a head might have been. The light etched out the shape of them in hard shadowed edges.

And Neville suddenly recognised the bruised and weary face half-turned away from the cold stone of the floor. The huddled, filthy bundle lying on the floor was – impossibly, unbelievably – Professor Lupin. His wrists were so thin they looked as if the slightest pressure would snap them, and his hair seemed greyer than ever, though that might have been due to dust. Neville could not tell if he was alive.

He bent, dropping onto one knee. Harry slid out of his grasp and sat down on the stone floor, swaying and looking more drunk than ever. He was staring over Neville's head, his lips moving, but no sound coming out. His eyes were glazed, now, as if his condition was deteriorating. Neville wasn't paying attention to Harry, but to the defeated man lying before him.

Hesitantly, he reached out and touched Professor Lupin's cheek. It was warm: alive. Neville took the man's shoulder and shook him gently.

"Professor?" Neville shook him harder. Lupin did not stir. "Professor Lupin? Wake up, Professor – please wake up, we have to get out of here."

He wondered if Lupin was breathing, and managed to roll him over so that he was lying on his back. Now he could see the faint rise and fall of Lupin's chest beneath the thin robes that he was wearing. But still, Lupin did not open his eyes.

"Professor, please!" Neville shook Lupin as hard as he could, wanted to slap him, but some taboo against striking a teacher, so pointless in this situation, held him back. Harry shuddered and began to topple sideways: Neville had to grab him and pull him upright to keep him from falling over

Neville thought, Professor Lupin looks so thin. Maybe I could lift him up, but he knew that would mean leaving Harry behind, because he simply could not manage the two of them on his own. His voice came in a croak now. "Please wake up, Professor! I can't…I can't carry you both. I'm not strong enough…please wake up, oh, please…" He bit down on his lip in frustration. Lupin looked as if he might be in a worse condition, but Neville knew he could not carry his teacher's dead weight very far. Did he abandon Lupin here, possible dying, or leave Harry instead, and come back for him later? Surely Harry was more important, but Lupin might be in greater need. And Neville couldn't think, he couldn't bear to leave one of them behind in this awful, cold place.

A lump had stuck in his throat: he realised he was beginning to cry. It was so unfair, everything that had happened, and now they had done what no one would have believed and they still weren't safe, they were still cold and sick and dying…tears rolled down Neville's cheeks. He wanted to be home, he wanted to be in the Gryffindor common room, where it was warm and full of laughter, where he could do ordinary things like homework and talk about frightening things like Voldemort with Hermione and Ron while they were wrapped up snug and safe. He'd give anything for all this to be over.

"Am I interrupting, Longbottom?"

Neville was on his feet in a flash, spinning around, his wand raised and ready to blow to bits anything that came near him. A thin, black-cloaked figure stood behind him, the hood drawn back: and here was another impossible sight. It was Professor Snape, his greasy hair hanging lank over his eyes, his skin, if possible, even paler than usual. He was limping a little as he stepped forward, but his sneer was as cold as ever.

"Stay back!" Neville hissed. "You – you're working for You-Know-Who, aren't you? Don't you come any closer – I'm warning you!"

"Though I am certain you could impress me mightily with your talents with bat-bogey hexes or something equally disgusting, I assure you it would be a waste of both our time and energies," Professor Snape replied. "Lower your wand, Longbottom, I am not here to hurt you."

"I don't believe you," Neville panted, a wild fury rising in him. Snape was wearing the same cloaks as the Death Eaters had worn: of course, he must be a spy, he had probably organised Neville's kidnapping himself.

"No? I could have knocked you out at any time in the last two minutes, while you were sitting there weeping," Snape said, enunciating the last word rather cruelly.

Neville brushed his sleeve over his eyes, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. Of all the stupid things that could have happened at that moment, being caught crying by Professor Snape was not the worst. But it still felt humiliating. Professor Snape, however, did not pursue this line of taunting. He brushed past Neville and knelt in front of Professor Lupin with a look of cool disdain upon his face. Neville followed him with his wand and then reluctantly lowered it and went to stand beside him.

"I couldn't wake him up," he said weakly, then wished he hadn't. He hated showing weakness to Professor Snape. But the potions master simply touched Lupin's shoulder lightly, with the manner of someone touching a dead animal that was beginning to attract flies.

"He's not coming round any time soon. I don't fancy trying any muggle healing techniques in this hole, so we had better get out of here before he ups and dies on us."

Neville squeaked, "He's going to die?"

"Not if you stop chattering and start moving," Snape said. He bent and looped his arms under Lupin's chest, lifting him swiftly with strength that Snape's thinness belied.

"Why don't you just use magic to lift him?" Neville asked incredulously. Snape shot him a needling glower.

"As you somehow failed to notice, Longbottom, I have been deprived of my wand," he said, with the faintest hint of bitterness. He gathered Lupin up, somehow managing to bundle all of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher into his arms. Then he glanced at Harry, who was still sitting and staring at some distant point on the wall, "You bring the boy, I'll carry the werewolf. Oh, excuse me, ex-werewolf," he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he looked down at Lupin.

Neville, who really did not know what on earth Snape was talking about now but was horrified at the thought letting Professor Lupin die when they were so close to safety, thrust the wand at the potions Professor. "Take mine! You can heal him, can't you?"

Snape considered the proffered wand for a moment then wrinkled the bridge of his beaky nose. "Hold onto your wand, Longbottom. I'm not an expert in healing spells, and in Lupin's condition," he glanced away, "I might only make things worse. I assure you if I want your wand I will ask for it. Now come on, we do not have time to dither."

Neville decided it would be best to just do as he was told for the moment. With some effort, he managed to get Harry back on his feet and put the boy's arm around his shoulders once more. Harry was limp as a rag-doll now, and his breath was coming faintly and irregularly, but his legs still moved in a stumbling kind of walk when Neville urged him to.

"I'm not going," Harry mumbled as he managed a few steps. "Mrs Cole can do what she likes…I ain't going anywhere and if Mrs Cole doesn't like it…" his last words faded into unintelligible syllables.

"Don't worry, Harry, no one's going to make you do anything," Neville said as reassuringly as he could.

With some misgiving, and ready for the first sign of treachery, he followed Professor Snape towards the doorway and up the thin staircase beyond.

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They left the grim recesses of the house by way of the door in the kitchen and met no resistance in the garden. The ghostly roses and spreading silver lawns seemed to be frozen in a state of morose beauty. Neville looked through the trees and saw in the distance a small, lightless cottage tucked away in the corner of the estate. He wondered briefly who it belonged to.

Snape was getting ahead of him, despite the fact that he was lugging Professor Lupin over his shoulder. Neville adjusted Harry's weight against him and hurried to catch up. Harry had stopped speaking now, and his head lolled with each step.

"What were you doing in that house if you're not a Death Eater?" Neville demanded as he drew level with Snape.

The potions Professor did not answer for a moment, but a furrow appeared on his brow. "I will tell you the truth, Longbottom, but it is only to keep you from doing something foolish because you mistakenly believe I am your enemy," he paused after this disclaimer. "I…was a Death Eater, and a spy for Albus Dumbledore," he continued icily. "Until tonight. Evidently my connection to the Headmaster was discovered some time ago, but the Dark Lord waited until he could trap me here before he revealed my dual loyalties to the others and told them they were to kill me."

"Then why didn't they?" Neville asked at once.

"They were told to take their time," Snape snapped. He suddenly paused and his steps faltered.

"What is it?" Neville whispered.

"The gate's open," Snape said calmly. He sauntered ahead – though sauntering was a difficult thing to do with a man slung over your shoulder – and Neville dragged Harry along behind as the two arms of a high stone wall closed around them. A thick-barred iron gate linked the two arms, but it stood wide open.

"How were you planning to get out if they were closed?" Neville asked as Snape sped up and they passed between the gates at a swift shamble.

"There are ways, Longbottom, though doubtlessly you would have been trapped here until the muggles showed up," Snape replied. "The opening of the gates only disturbs me because a rare few had access to their key. Move faster, boy, I want to put some distance between us and the house."

Neville did not know how long they walked along the winding gravel path Snape took. It was probably no more than ten or twenty minutes, but Harry grew heavier with each step and Neville was only just beginning to realise how exhausted he was. He thought he was going to fall asleep on his feet and it took all his willpower just to keep his eyes on the hunched black back of Professor Snape.

The trees grew close in over the road, frozen like cut-out shadows in the still early-morning air. The faintest glow was beginning to show on the east horizon, but the sun would not rise for at least another hour. Just when Neville thought he could not take another step Snape slowed and turned off the road to where the roots of a low-branched oak made a grassy mound on the edge of the gravel. He lowered Professor Lupin to the ground and perched himself on the roots, resting his hands on his knees. Neville realised he was breathing heavily, though he could not decide if the pained expression on his face was due to actual discomfort or was simply the look Snape always wore.

Neville sat Harry down against the tree. The black-haired boy slumped against the trunk with his hands in his lap and his eyes half-closed.

"Harry," Neville touched the boy's shoulder. "You still there?"

There was no response.

Neville swallowed the lump in his throat. Harry was in a state of shock, that was all. He wasn't hurt. To distract himself he looked over and saw that Snape had pulled up one corner of his robes and was inspecting a thickly swollen ankle beneath dark purple bruises. After a moment of tenderly jabbing the bruises with his finger, the potions master held out his hand to Neville.

"Your wand," he said simply.

Neville handed it over reluctantly, but Snape didn't attack him, just touched the bruise with the tip and muttered something. The swelling subsided a little but it still looked acutely painful. Next, Snape bent over Lupin and waved the wand over his face a few times. A light glinted at the tip of the wand but Lupin didn't stir.

Snape straightened up and shot Neville a suspicious glare. "Start talking, Longbottom. I don't believe for a second what Bellatrix was babbling about, but something certainly happened to make the rest of the Death Eaters scatter. Care to explain?"

It was as if he was merely asking what was Neville's excuse for today's failed concoction in potions class. Neville hesitated as he tried to get his words straight.

"He's dead," he said finally and added, as if testing his claim, "Voldemort."

Snape flinched and his fist closed around Neville's wand. "You're lying," he said assuredly. "Or mistaken. The Dark Lord is far beyond the reach of death, boy. The fact that Potter here is still alive is a fair indicator of that," he gestured at Harry, still catatonic and staring at the distant full moon. "It would take his death and the death of many others to come close to destroying him. Now tell me what really happened."

" I don't know," Neville leant his head on his knees. "I don't know what happened. We were fighting… our wands got… tangled somehow. Harry attacked him and there was a flash of light and when I reached him, there was only ash where Voldemort had been."

"Then you have no proof he is dead. As always, you rush to inexplicable conclusions, Longbottom," Snape said coolly, turning away.

"Then why does Bellatrix agree with me?" Neville said.

He saw Snape tense and knew he had hit a mark. The professor hissed, "Bellatrix is…hasty."

"And you?" Neville asked, "How did you get away from the Death Eaters? I thought they were trying to kill you." He felt a sudden rush of daring that he dared speak so openly to Snape. He could barely believe his Potions professor was sitting here on the edge of a muggle village, proclaiming himself a Death Eater and talking about the fall of the Dark Lord. And even after all that had happened, Snape still scared him.

"I do not need to prove my allegiances to you, Longbottom," Snape replied with a whip-crack in his voice.

"I'm not asking you to. I just want to know what happened," Neville said firmly.

A muscle Snape's cheek twitched but after a moment he began to speak. "They believed me stunned when Bellatrix arrived, screaming nonsense about you and the Dark Lord. Why they believed her I know not, but certainly most of them fled at once and the few that remained left in search of you."

"Why didn't you just run away?"

"Your shallow view of me may be severe, Longbottom, but I am not heartless. I made my way down the basement because I knew Professor Lupin was alive somewhere in the house-"

"What? Then why didn't you tell someone?"

"Because I only learned about it tonight!" Snape snarled. "And even if I had gained the information earlier, there were more important things going on in that house than the capture of one shabby ex-werewolf," Snape nudged Lupin's ribs with his toe. "There are plots beyond your short-sighted ken that even I would have hesitated to presume if it were not for what I heard tonight."

Neville didn't answer this. He stared at Professor Lupin's starved face and tried to replay the previous hours in his head in order to make sense of them. But no matter how many times he drew out that moment when Harry had stepped through the threads of golden light connecting the wands and reached out to Voldemort , Neville still could not understand what had taken place. He was completely certain that the twisted pile of ash on the ground had been all that remained of the Dark Lord – but how? What had happened?

"Where are we going now?" he asked, to give his tired brain a rest. Now that they had stopped moving the cold of the night air was beginning to spread through his limbs.

Snape turned his face to peer down the road. "There's a village. I know a number that we can enter into any muggle phone line to contact the Auror headquarters at the Ministry. Dumbledore has agents among the Aurors who will alert the Headmaster and come to pick us up. If I weren't here, Longbottom, you would probably be dead already," he added with what might have been a hint of disappointment.

Neville wrapped his arms around his knees and looked back up the road the way they had come. Early morning mist was beginning to permeate through the trees, and the cold was making Neville shiver. "Look at all that fog," he mused aloud to himself.

The silence reigned for a moment more, than Snape said in a sharp voice. "Get up. Get the boy. We have to start moving."

Neville glanced at the professor and saw that his face was tensed and lines had appeared on his brow. He was hauling Lupin up again, still clutching Neville's wand in one hand. Neville pushed himself to his feet but it took more effort to get Harry up. Snape had already started down the road.

"Slow down," Neville called in a hoarse voice. Harry's legs were moving but Neville was the one taking all of his weight.

"Hurry, Longbottom!" Snape's voice floated back to him. It sounded almost frightened.

Neville doubled his stride and drew even with the limping Snape. "What is it?" he asked between pants.

Snape glanced over his shoulder and said, as if to himself, "Nott said he summoned three Dementors…only three…not an army…"

Neville had never seen a Dementor before. He turned his head to look back, nearly dropping Harry as he did so, but there was only a thin layer of mist creeping along the road behind them. Then, deeper in the trees, there was movement and the shape of an immensely tall, dark shadow – no, two – no, six…

Their pace quickened but even Snape was stumbling and skidding on the loose stones now. Neville couldn't keep up with the professor and his legs were growing leaden. It felt as if thin, prickly snow was building up in his chest, a cold that he couldn't be rid of.

Ahead they came around a bend in the path and Neville felt as if someone had slapped him in the face.

A hundred metres down the road their way was blocked by a crowd of tall, swaying black figures who floated inches above the ground, silent except for a dull rattling that breached the space between them and sent shivers down Neville's spine. In his arms, Harry stirred and raised his head, taking his weight on his own feet. Neville barely noticed, but Snape did as he turned and raised the wand in his hand.

"Potter," the professor snarled. "It's Potter that's drawing them, calling them…!"

Neville stumbled around, but the hooded figures were behind them as well, closing in swiftly and steadily. "Run you stupid boy! Follow me!" Snape yelled, pointing the wand at the Dementors behind them. Something silver and shapeless blossomed from the tip of the wand and hung like a thin veil between them and the cloaked figures. Neville did not take a closer look at it, but gripped the arm of the now-upright Harry and stumbled after Snape, who was running straight at the Dementors down the road, aiming Neville's wand at them.

With a jerk, Neville's floundering feet caught on what seemed to be a large, soft rock and his momentum carried him forward until the ground rose up to stop him. He threw out his hand and landed hard on his face, skidding a few inches on the gravel and feeling the skin ripped off his palm. He scrambled to get up again, but had stop to help Harry who had fallen as well and was lying indifferently on the road.

The Dementors behind them were closing in, Snape was somewhere ahead and as Neville bent to haul Harry to his feet he saw what it was he had tripped on.

It was the body of an old man in rough working clothes stretched across the path, his face looking mildly surprised. His eyes were open and he was clearly dead, as cold as the stones upon which he rested. Neville tore his eyes away from the grim sight to lever Harry up.

"Dad," Harry said, looking at Neville with expression of desperate longing. "Frank's dead, isn't he?"

"Yes, now Harry please we have to run-"

Neville turned to step over the body on the road and found that there were Dementors hovering right in front of them. The creatures were everywhere, a noose of empty black cloaks tightening around them. Distantly he heard Snape yelling hoarsely but he couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, he couldn't even remember in which direction the path was. The rattling noise surrounded them on all sides and Neville realised it was the breath of the fluttering, fetid creatures hemming them in.

The cold reached his heart and he heard a ringing in his ears. He and Harry were standing back-to-back, standing over the old man's body. Neville clutched his companion's wrist as, in some forgotten corner of his brain, voices began to rise.

"Mum," Harry sobbed aloud. "Run, Mum, he's going to kill you…"

The Dementors were only a few metres away now, forming a circle around the two boys. Here and there Neville glimpsed a scabby, twisted hand darting under the ragged black robes. His legs were shaking so much they couldn't hold him up, and only Harry's support kept him from sliding to the ground. There were voices in his ears; familiar voices raised in panic…his parents, the last time he had heard them… he was listening to his parents die all over again…

"Sirius," Harry whispered. "Help me."

Neville's voice was stuck in his throat. He wanted to call for help but there was no one there. Even Snape's yells had faded – or had the voices of Neville's parents blocked him out? – and the rattling was so loud it was like relentless stones grinding against their brains.

"Sirius!" Harry's voice grew louder. "Sirius!" He was shouting now, cutting through the blurry cries of Frank and Alice Longbottom that were crowding Neville's ears. There's no one there, Neville wanted to tell him as one of the Dementors swam forward through the air, reaching out a pair of gnarled, rotting hands towards Harry first as if Neville was only an afterthought, brushing against his cheek as it closed in on its prey. Just let it be over quickly… Neville thought, let it not hurt…

"SIRIUS!" Harry bellowed.

And through the rattling, the shouting, the rushing of blood in Neville's hearing came another voice that was not dead, but alive and real and not far away.

"Harry!" The voice shouted. "I'm coming – just close your mouth and hold on!"

A light was rising in the east, but it couldn't be the sun. It was too bright and too silver and the Dementors were shying away from it. The hands reaching past Neville drew away and he sucked in a breath of clean air that wasn't tainted with the rotting smell of the hooded monsters. His legs gave way at last and both he and Harry crumpled and sat huddled against each other with the gravel digging into Neville's leg and the body of the old man lying beside them.

Something glistening, white, four-legged and bear-sized barrelled through the crowd of Dementors, scattering them and casting them away with swipes of its huge paws. It circled the two boys, silently roaring at the black-robed creatures, which turned and began to slip away into the mist and the trees. The glowing white creature charged down the road, snapping at the last of the Dementors who were gathering around another pair of figures. Professor Snape, Neville's wand raised defiantly in one trembling hand, was kneeling over Lupin, white-faced but alive.

Neville heard the crunch of gravel under rapid footsteps and looked up to see a tall man dashing down the road towards them, his black hair flying away from his face and his wand clamped in his raised fist. He skidded to a halt in front of Neville, who with a quick glance saw that Harry had sagged to the ground and lay curled beside him. The huge silver animal bounded back towards them and faded into a few twinkling points of light.

"Are you both alright?" the man asked, panting a little. Neville recognised him from the funeral as Sirius Black.

"Yes," Neville said wearily. "I'm alright."

The man didn't seem to hear him. He was kneeling beside Harry, glancing at the full moon caught in the branches of the westward trees and at the face of the boy lying before him. Then, with the greatest of care, Sirius Black lifted Harry up into his arms.

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TBC