Chapter 8

A/N: One of the most essential things when it comes to writing with flash backs is having a timetable. Unfortunately, when my hard drive crashed, I lost said timetable. Whenever I have flashbacks that occur over great periods of time, I try to drop some information about the date, like November. Thus, for the sake of simplifying things, lets assume this chapter takes place in early January, and if you couldn't tell, this is another flashback chapter. Enjoy!

Neville Longbottom kept close to the brick wall. He enjoyed listening to the portraits discuss: random day-to-day events, past adventures "they" had when they were younger, and politics of the Ministry. It wasn't just a defense mechanism to avoid the crowds, but that did not stop his colleagues from questioning him about this compulsion. He often brushed them off and blamed it on the aggressive traffic that flowed throughout the Ministry, he liked to avoid conflict.

Today was different. His entire body was drenched from head to toe with cold water. It was the third consecutive day of rain and the third consecutive day he forgot to bring an umbrella. He was thankful it wasn't snowing, but the snow didn't ruin his shoes. Despite his failures to keep dry, he managed to keep the folders and parchments bunched up beneath his arms free of danger.

"Neville," a sweet voice called out to him. He stopped for the speaker and slowly turned around. It was Hermione. "You're soaked."

"Yeah, I know," he relied dully. With a half smile and a shake of her, Hermione pulled out her wand. The young witch flicked her wand away from Neville, pulling the water out of the fabric that wrapped around him. It was a strange sensation; she even removed the weird feeling of being sticky. "Thanks, Hermione."

"No problem, Longbottom. Where are you off to?" She placed her wand back in her inside jacket pocket.

Neville raised the papers wrapped by his arms. "I have to deliver these to the Minister." There was an awkward silence between them. Neville was training to be an Auror, but due to his own personal faults, he rarely went out in the field. Despite his display of bravery at the Battle of Hogwarts, his superiors viewed him as weak and incompetent. That wasn't him, not anymore. Harry had basically graduated whilst their peers traveled around Great Britain with their respective mentors. Hermione, the brightest witch at Hogwarts, was aware of this fact too.

"I'll walk with you," she offered warmly. Neville nodded, he was thankful for the company.

"What have you been up to?" They started to navigate through the waves and waves of workers, visitors, and everyone else.

"Well," Hermione said. "You know. Doing random tasks for Mr. Weasley. I had to show him how a vending machine works."

"What's that?" Neville never heard of such thing, it sounded weird. He ran it through his mind. He tried to hide his curiosity and fought the urge to mouth out the syllables.

"Never mind," she chuckled. Hermione had noticed. "How's your training?"

The words struck Neville like a stinging jinx. Training, that would be something new. Most of Neville's time had been spent doing administrative tasks and being a delivery boy. He tried to shrug off his discomfort. "It's been going well. Brilliant, really."

"You don't have to lie to me," Hermione assured him. "I understand the pressure you're under, Neville. You have nothing to prove."

"But I do, Hermione," he protested. "I have to prove myself everyday. Everyday until I earn their respect."

"If it's any consolation," she said, "you earned my respect during our first year at Hogwarts."

"I remember," Neville recalled. "You froze me and went on your adventure with Harry and Ron. I wish I was brave enough back then to go with you guys."

"Stop it," Hermione said sternly. "Stop comparing yourself to us. You won us the House Cup, remember?"

Neville shook his head, dejectedly. "I'll always be compared you three. It's inevitable."

Hermione agreed with him, begrudgingly, and dropped the subject. They continued their walk in silence. Neville was happy, for both the silence and the company. Hermione stopped when they reached the turn that led to the Minister's office. She wasn't focused on Neville. The young witch was staring off into the distance.

Neville leaned over and saw who she was looking at. It was Ron Weasley. "I better get going."

He broke her trance. "Right, sorry about that."

"It's okay… It's been what, a week?" Neville questioned about their break up. He didn't want to pry, but he figured this was a good way to comfort her guilt by addressing the problem.

"Yeah," Hermione muttered. "I broke up with him last week. I think I should go now." Before Neville good say his farewells, the young witch disappeared into the crowd. He looked over at Ron and realized he was gone too. Oh well.

Neville took a deep breath and continued down the narrow hall. As he approached the Minister's office, he could hear an argument coming through the door. It was loud and almost violent, but it wasn't audible due to an enchantment. Before he reached the door, it burst open, almost knocking him over. A hood wizard brushed up against Neville.

"Sorry, Neville," the wizard apologized quickly and moved past Neville without waiting for a response. Neville didn't get a good look of his face, but he did get a good smell. The wizard smelled like a wet dog, he obviously didn't have an umbrella or Hermione as a friend.

"Come in, Longbottom," Shacklebolt grabbed his apprentice's attention. Neville entered the room and closed the large door behind him. He had great difficulty closing it and wondered how the strange wizard could open it so easily. The anger that drove him probably helped.

"Here you go, sir," Neville placed the documents on the side of the Minister's desk. Shacklebolt leaned forward and briefly looked over them.

"Good, thank you," he acknowledged. "What are your plans for the weekend?"

Neville was taken aback. "Um, nothing, sir. Need me to run some errands for you?"

"Yes. I need you to travel Province for me."

"To Province?" Neville couldn't hide his excitement. He wasn't exactly excited about going to Province, but he was happy to leave London. This was a chance to prove his worth.

"Yes." He shuffled through the papers and pulled out a scroll.

"Where is that by the way, sir?"

"It's a small village, north of here. I just need you to corroborate these depositions for me." Shacklebolt handed Neville a dirty folder. It was covered in mud and ash. Neville carefully opened it and skimmed through the files. The majority of it was blackened out, except for the names of the witnesses, which were odd, and parts of their statements. "Just a simple check up. Don't go digging."

"Uh, okay," Neville responded automatically. Then there was a knock at the door. Shacklebolt motioned the door with his hand and it opened. A tall man entered the office. He was dressed nicely in silk, scarlet robes and a wool cloak, but wore musky cologne. The young wizard could tell he came from money. The way the stranger carried himself told Neville he was high-ranking official, probably a pureblood to boot. The man completely ignored Neville, invisible once again.

"Minister," he addressed Shacklebolt first.

"Cromwell," the Minister replied. "Neville, this is Lord Timothy Cromwell. He's a dear friend of mine." Cromwell turned towards Neville and shook his hand. Neville couldn't help but notice the thin bandages wrapped around his right hand. A strange heat irradiated from it. Cromwell's hand didn't seem injured, because the handshake was both strong and firm.

"Nice to meet you," Neville said.

"Likewise," Cromwell obliged. Neville looked at his mentor and realized this was a private matter. He quickly gave them a friendly nodded and exited the office. As he cruised down the hallway, the young wizard began to survey the files he was given. When he turned the corner, a random hand grabbed his collar and dragged him into the adjacent restroom.

"What the—" Neville protested. It was the strange wizard from before. He pulled out his wand, pointed it at Neville to quiet him and then locked the door. "Who are you?"

"It's me, Neville," the wizard said as he pulled the hood down. It was Harry. It was Harry Potter, but he was almost unrecognizable. His hair was longer than usual and messy, but beads and strange tokens were woven into it. He was also sporting a short beard and mustache that masked his facial features. It probably made it easier for him to move around.

"Harry," Neville greeted him cheerfully. "What are you doing here? Were you the one fighting with the Minister?"

Harry walked over to the door and checked if it was locked, it was. He was definitely different. He looked tired and defeated, and he had a weird sense of paranoia about him. "Yes, I was arguing with Shacklebolt, the fool."

"What's going on, Harry?" Neville took a few steps towards Harry, slowly.

"They killed him," Harry muttered.

"Killed who?" A chill ran down Neville's spine.

"They killed a friend of mine," Harry responded frantically. He floated to the sink and started to wash his hands and face. "I'm sorry, Neville."

"It's okay," Neville didn't have a grasp on any of it. "Just tell me what happened."

"My contact," Harry tried to explain. "They killed him."

"Who?" Neville asked.

"I don't know. A monster did it. I don't know." He then pulled out a small blade from his jacket. Leaning close to the mirror, Harry started to trim his beard.

"I'm still confused, Harry," Neville tried to make sense of what was happened. "Why me? Why not tell Hermione or Ron?"

Harry stopped for a moment. First he stared at himself in the eye and then shifted his gaze to Neville's reflection in the mirror. "I can't get them involved, it's too dangerous."

"Oh, so I'm expendable?"

"Of course not," Harry appeared to be returning to normal. He titled his head slightly to get a better view of his hair as he chopped it off. "It's just, I can't trust them not to stick their nose into this. I still need to figure things out."

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" Neville was now standing next to Harry, fascinated by his method of self-grooming.

"I need you to stay out of it. The folder you're holding," Harry glimpsed at it for a second, "is my report to Shacklebolt. You'll notice he blacked out almost everything vital and important."

Neville looked down at the papers and shuffled through them again. Harry was right.

"Go to Province like he wants you to, but that's it. Don't talk to anyone about why you're there." Harry placed the blade on the counter and thoroughly washed his hair.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to figure out who killed my friend." Harry removed a dirty rag from his pocket and dried his hair with it. "In order to do that, I need to disappear."

"Disappear?" Neville failed to hide the concern in his voice.

"Yes, I can't trust Shacklebolt or the Ministry. They don't believe me, so my words will only fall on deaf ears." Harry gathered his things into a satchel. "I'll report my findings to you when it's time."

"Okay, but what's going."

"Something is coming, Neville. Something big." Harry pulled out a small tube from his pocket and smeared a weird gel in his hands. He applied it slowly to his hair, slicking it back and completely changing his demeanor. Harry no longer looked like a derange beggar. "Don't tell Hermione or Ron. Promise me you won't tell them. Whatever happens, you can't tell them. Promise me."

"I promise. I promise."

"Thank you," Harry patted his friend on the shoulder. He removed his dirty clothes revealing clean and properly pressed coat. After checking the pockets, Harry disposed the used clothes into the trash and pulled the hood of his jacket back on. "And Neville..."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Remember," he unlocked the door, "you're my only back up." Before Neville could call out to him, Harry was gone. Neville stood alone in the restroom in silence. The young wizard looked down at the open folder in his hands and then at the swinging door. Whatever Harry had gotten himself into, Neville had to help him. Neville didn't need to prove himself anymore. It wasn't about gaining the respect of his friends and colleagues. This new mission was more than that. Harry asked for his aid and he was going to give it.

A/N: I hoped you enjoyed this chapter and the new POV that I will be integrating into this story.