Part IV

[Time Frame]: At the Burrow, with Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, goodness, that will not do. My dear, it's much too late for you to go back home, so I insist you stay the night, but tomorrow I promise I shall speak with your Grandmother," said the red-haired, plump woman, bedecked in a cozy apron. The Burrow was warm and comfortable tonight, and she looked quite content.

Neville sat at the Weasley's kitchen table, his bags at his feet. Molly Weasley was cooking up some hot soup for him, her secret recipe, while listening to the tale.

The rain had started as soon as Neville had gotten back to Gran's earlier that evening, as if an omen. He had barely noticed, though. Now, looking out the kitchen window, he saw the storm pick up speed. It was coming down in sheets, pouring onto the Earth. He actually liked the sight. It comforted him and calmed the raging thoughts in his mind.

Mrs. Weasley put the steaming soup in front of him and wiped her hands on her apron. "There, now. You just eat up, pumpkin, and I'll see about where you can sleep." She proceeded to gaze upon an odd sort of clock which hung upon the wall. It wasn't actually a clock at all, but a magical device which told where each of the Weasley children was. Neville knew he shouldn't snoop, but he looked over Molly Weasley's shoulder and inspected the clock.

He liked how each child's face was on each of the dials. Bill's face was pointing to 'Out with Friends,' Charlie's was at 'Out of Town,' both of the twins were indicating 'Work,' Ginny's was safely at 'HOME,' and unfortunately, Ron's freckled face was in a dark are of the clock where the title said, "God Knows Where.'

Mrs. Weasley promptly shrieked and threw the object in the air. Neville winced as it fell toward the kitchen floor. Just in the nick of time, though, it swooped back up and onto the wall, hanging itself on a nail. Neville went back to his soup as though nothing happened. His hostess began voicing her displeasure in a rage and hurried from the kitchen in a huff.

She returned a moment later slightly calmer with Ginny by her side. Neville smiled at the girl. She had gotten very pretty over the years, and he'd never forgotten how they'd danced together at the Yule Ball, but they were only friends. She smiled back, but did not come over to him. Mrs. Weasley promptly dragged her off, questioning her firmly. Neville strained to hear, but could not over the drum of rain on the roof.

All of a sudden, an awful crack resounded throughout the Burrow. Male voices, shouting, it seemed, came from upstairs. Mrs. Weasley rushed around the corner and up the stairs, muttering all the while. Ginny, in a bit of a shock, came over to stand by Neville.

"Bloody idiot's going to get strangled by Mum," she said quietly. Neville's eyes widened as yells, presumably Ron's, echoed from above. Ginny snickered, but then sighed. "Probably brought along Harry with him," she said, more to herself. Neville caught a glimpse of a blush on her cheeks and a shine in her eyes, but in another moment they were gone, and Ginny was tidying up the kitchen. She took Neville's empty bowl and started to wash the dishes. He turned around to see Mrs. Weasley coming back down the stairs, and she looked ill at ease.

"That was Ron, I take it?" Ginny asked her mother, not turning away from the sink. Neville knew her well enough to realize she was trying hard not to laugh. Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Yes, my dear, that was Ronald." She said nothing more, but sat herself down in the chair adjacent Neville. Ginny washed another dish. "Well, did he bring Harry?" There was a hint of eagerness in her voice. Mrs. Weasley replied with another sigh.

"Harry is here as well," she said, adjusting her apron. Ginny seemed impatient now, for she set down the rag she had previously been holding and came over to her mother. "And?" she urged. Molly Weasley shook her head. "They're not staying long," was the quiet response. Ginny groaned. "Of course not, why would they stay for more than five minutes?" she fussed, going back to the dishes. Neville knew both women were distressed, so he excused himself and took up his bags.

Mrs. Weasley said not a word as he left the kitchen, which Neville felt was good. She wouldn't stop him from going up to talk to the guys. Just in case they objected to his spending the night here, however, he put his bags on the couch in the Weasley's living room before climbing the creaky stairs.

He could hear their voices more clearly now. They were arguing, actually. Neville grimaced. He hated when Harry and Ron argued. He'd been witness to their quarrels many a time at Hogwarts, and when they didn't end well, he always felt somewhat responsible for not having stopped it, like he could have prevented whatever was wrong. But the one time he'd dared to bring this up to Harry, the latter had yelled at him, and stalked off.

Huffing and puffing, Neville reached the top of the stairs. Ron's room was up another small flight of stairs, which was concealed in the now open closet door. He was graced with the attic room. Neville knew this much. Plus, that's where the voices were coming from.

He took a deep breath, or as deep as he could after that bout of exercise, and walked up Ron's stairs into his room. Harry and Ron looked shocked to see him; so shocked that they stopped talking as soon as he walked in.

"Hi, guys," he said as cheerfully as he could. Ron cleared his throat and nodded his head in greeting, obviously out of his dazed reverie. He nudged Harry, who also seemed to 'wake up' and notice that he was being rude.

"Hi, Neville," he said curtly. With that, he turned around and began to rifle through some things in his knapsack. Ron took the opportunity to get to the chase. "What exactly are you doing here?" he asked. Neville scratched his head and looked about the room nervously. "It's a bit of a long story," he admitted. "Well come on, we don't have all night," Ron barked, sitting down on the bed.

Neville was shocked. Ron had never expressed much interest in talking to him. This was certainly a big step forward. Neville grinned and sat down in a stool which sat by the door. From there, he proceeded to tell Ron Weasley and Harry Potter about his ride home that evening from Hogwarts, his Gran's disapproval of ever returning there, Uncle Algie's offer, and now arriving at the Burrow.

When the tale was finished, Ron still looked confused. "But why are you here?" he asked. Harry groaned. "He wants to know if we can help him get back to Hogwarts next year," he said. Neville nodded. "Yeah, I mean, if you guys can't help me sneak back, then maybe your mum could convince Gran to send me back?"

Ron seemed to actually consider this. "Harry's staying with us for a while, and he's real good at sneaking," he muttered. Harry piped up. "I'm not going back to the Muggles, and the Weasleys offered to take me in for the summer." Neville nodded.

Ron didn't seem to like the answer, though. "Yeah, but Harry doesn't want to stay, do you?" His voice was tense. Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, it's not like that. I told you, it's not personal, but I've got to do something. You can come, but…" "But you don't want to wait. Not for the wedding, not for Hermione…"

The argument was imminent. Neville cleared his throat anxiously. Both boys turned to him. "Maybe you should wait a little while, Harry. I mean, if you're going somewhere, maybe I can help. If I can't go back to Hogwarts without causing a ruckus, then maybe I'd better do something else with my life. Could you include one more in your party? But Hermione is always a big help, too."

Ron looked triumphant. "See? Even Neville agrees. You can't leave yet, mate. Even if you wanted to, you can't leave tonight. Get some rest, maybe you'll think better of it tomorrow." Harry, defeated, grumbled as he laid out blankets on the wooden floor.

"Where are you sleeping?" Ron asked. Neville shrugged. "Hadn't really thought of it yet," he said quietly. Ron smiled a bit. "I guess you could sleep up here with us," he offered. Neville grinned and ran down to get his stuff.

The next morning, the trio awoke to smell bacon and flapjacks coming from the kitchen. It was a comforting smell. Before they could get out of bed, however, a knock came from the door. In came Ginny, blushing to find them still abed. "Breakfast is ready," she said quietly. "But if I were you, I'd get downstairs quick. We've got company." The look she gave Ron was mischievous. He jumped out of bed and quickly changed. Without a backward glance, he ran down the stairs. Ginny hesitated, waiting for Harry it seemed, but when he waved her off she dutifully followed her brother. Harry and Neville chuckled when they heard Ron's excited yell, "BILL!"

The twins of course replied with interesting remarks, and Ginny, slowly moving down the stairs, could be heard making a comment about 'Phlegm.' The boys hurriedly dressed and rushed down the stairs. The aroma of good food was getting to their heads.

Breakfast was a cheery affair. Fleur and Bill told stories of their travels (they were taking their honeymoon BEFORE the wedding because Bill had to go to an important meeting in Egypt for Gringotts the day after the wedding) and Fred and George shared their work stories, particularly the amusing ones. Neville loved the one about the bloke who had come in looking for a certain nasty sweet which would turn his mother-in-law into a teakettle, but George slipped him a 'free sample' before he could get to that aisle, turning him into a squirrel.

Mr. Weasley, late to the table, passed out copies of the Daily Prophet to each individual solemnly and sipped his coffee as they read the headlines. The response he wanted came from everyone except Neville, who was glaring at the paper with pure hatred.

"Oi, Longbottom, what you so keen on reading? Someone buy the jumper you wanted?" joked Fred, pouring himself some juice. Neville threw down the newspaper in a fury and stood up.

"Blimey, Neville, he didn't mean it," Ron told him, putting a hand on his arm. Neville shook his head and jabbed a sticky finger at the account from Rita Skeeter. Ginny snatched up the paper and read the article, then rolled his eyes in disgust. "Neville, you can't believe anything that rat says," she said angrily. "It's not true."

Neville pushed back his chair and ran to collect his things. He was back down not a minute later, eyes blazing. "Whether it's true or not, I'm going to find out. Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Bye, guys." He marched to the door, and at the last second, Ginny threw herself in front of it.

"Neville, you're out of your bloody mind! You can't go looking for her yourself; let the Aurors take care of it. And what if Skeeter's just writing crap, which I'm sure she is? Are you really going to take the bait?" Neville gently pushed her aside and walked out of the house. Ginny ran after him, screaming, "WHAT IF SHE KILLS HER, NEVILLE?" Neville stopped walking. "If it's true, then she did it to get to you, Neville. She's going to do something to her. What if she does the same thing to her as she did to your parents?"

"Over my dead body," Neville muttered, and with that, he apparated. Ginny broke down in sobs. "You're right, it will be," she wept. Harry stood and ran out the door to comfort her. He could not stand it that Ginny was crying. He hugged her and smoothed her hair, and she turned around and cried on his shoulder.

Mr. Weasley stared at the ajar kitchen door. "What the devil was that about? He's got quite a bee in his bonnet…" he trailed off as he saw what Neville had gotten jumpy about. Rita Skeeter's article, entitled "Lovegood: Is it really?" was on the bottom of the front page.

Apparently, Xenophilius Lovegood had been approached by Bellatrix Lestrange. She promised his life would be spared if he gave up his daughter. Luna, who was out 'playing with gnargles,' agreed to accompany Bellatrix, who took her away and disappeared without a trace. Mr. Lovegood was now at St. Mungo's, for Bellatrix had lied and used the Cruciatus curse on him. He was now in the mentally deranged wing of St. Mungo's, where Neville's parents were, but still able to function a bit. It was believed that with time, he'd return to his original self.

Ron shook his head. Neville was going off to be a hero. "Godspeed," he whispered, hoping his buddy would survive. He knew that if it had been Hermione, he'd have done the same thing. "That's a man," he said loudly, and crunched on another piece of bacon.

Sorry if this seems a little jumbled. I thought I'd better add a hint of a few pairings to get it interesting. R&R if you feel the need. :P