Neville banged on the door for the ump-teenth time. Obviously, they had already left.
He creaked it open. What he saw scared him, and that wasn't what he wanted at all.
The place was a wreck, curtains on the floor, long scratches on the walls, and all of the furniture was broken or burned...
Oh no! They might be hurt!
Immediately, Neville looked around for some clues, stepping over the broken coffee table. C'mon, something, please, anything...
Then something white and clean caught his eyes. A letter, sitting on top of what was left of a smashed piano in the corner of the living room.
He ran to it, (jumping over some obstacles), and hastily picked it up:
Dear Neville,
If you are reading this, you need to get out.
We are fine, but we don't want to endanger you any more.
We love you, be safe.
Forever,
Your Friends.
Neville looked around. Something must have happened, just look at this place!
He gently folded the letter and put it into his pocket, thinking as he sat down on the ground, careful not to sit on any wood splinters.
Where would they go?
Well, let's see:
1. Not to the Dursley's, they wouldn't help.
2. Not to Hermione's, her parents wouldn't quite understand, not to mention that it was obvious.
3. Not the Burrow, the Ministry must have it under watch.
4. Where? Maybe, yeah, that's where they went.
No doubt it was dangerous, but he had to do it. What else could he do? They were his world now, and he would die before letting them...no, he couldn't finish the thought. He refused to finish that thought.
Slowly he stood up, surveying the room one last time before Apparating. To think he might be too late...
Crrack! He arrived in the dreary, raining city of London. He pulled his coat closer to his body, and opened the worn picket fence door and walking up to the door, noting the weeds that were growing not only in the cracks of the sidewalk, but everywhere else as well.
He trudged up to the door, about to knock, when he heard a lady screaming on the top of her lungs. He kicked the door in with no difficulty.
He slowly walked in, hearing the screaming cease for a moment, then start up again. Then he remembered, Oh that painting...
He looked in the living room at his left.
And there she was.
Ginny.
But no Trio.