Harry wasn't really paying attention when the memo landed on his desk midday at the end of January. He was paying far more attention to another bit of parchment that he was holding, which had the Hogwarts crest across the top and showcased Neville's neat, precise hand in dark green ink.
Harry,
Sorry to send this to your work, but I figured I should give you enough fair warning before showing up on your doorstep.
I've thought things through. I think we can make everything work. I need to talk to you first, though, and to be frank, if it's not tonight I may go mad.
Let me know when you'll be home. I've sent a letter to Ginny as well, as she's rather involved in this insane three-way family we're going to try to cobble together.
Neville
He reread the letter with a smile growing upon his face, and was about to pick up his quill to pen a reply when a shadow fell over his desk. He looked up.
"Ginny? What are you doing here?" He noticed the memo fluttering over his desk and opened it.
Ginny Weasley here to see you. Have sent her down.
Oh. Well then.
"Harry, I've just had a client come in from Bath. She's terribly distraught—the ghosts there are disappearing one by one, and she knows where the last one used to haunt."
All thoughts of Neville immediately fled from Harry's head. "Where?" he demanded, grabbing his quill and a fresh sheet of parchment. "Jackson, Perry, get the squad assembled—we're heading out as soon as I give the word!" he yelled across the room. Two junior Aurors who had been sipping coffee and chatting amiably jumped, then nodded and bustled out.
"In the Abbey," Ginny said as soon as Harry's intent gaze turned back to her. "She thinks that the person doing it is hiding in the basement there."
"How long ago did the last ghost disappear?" Harry asked, clearing scraps of parchment and a broken quill off the map on one side of his desk.
"This morning."
"Ginny, you're a treasure. Can you get the ghost here in the next few minutes? Good. Tell Neville tonight might not work. Tell him why. Jackson," he said to the Auror who had just returned with four hit-wizards trailing behind him. Ginny had slipped out of the Auror offices, presumably back to the entrance hall to use the fireplaces. "Bath Abbey. Get to the north side and lay low, but try to figure out how we can get in with minimum disturbance. Do not move in until I get there. Muggle uniform until I say otherwise."
"Yes sir," Jackson said, and the hit-wizards with him nodded and wordlessly removed their robes, under which they wore Muggle police uniforms as general practice. Jackson turned his robe inside out to become a very convincing Muggle trench coat. Muggles never paid enough attention to notice that instead of firearms in their holsters, they had wands; if they did notice, they wouldn't remember for long.
"I'll arrive with Perry on the east side of the Abbey. Our quarry is in the basement, and should be considered armed until further notice. Stop at the Armory on the way. I want everyone to have a Remote Shield charm on. Lindsay casts the best ones, get them from him. Kelly, I want you in a Disillusionment charm as well, and hang back once we go in to report to headquarters if something goes wrong. Jackson, cast an Anti-Apparation jinx as soon as you arrive. You're point until I get there." Jackson bobbed a nod and he led his half of the squad out of the offices to the Armory.
A silver wispy shape appeared suddenly next to his desk. Harry bowed to it. "Good afternoon. My name is Harry Potter. I'm an Auror for the Ministry of Magic. I'm very interested in some information you may have about suspicious activities at Bath Abbey."
"Melinda Miller," a wavering voice shimmered from the formless silver mist. "I'm—I'm terribly sorry about my appearance, Mr. Potter, but I—"
"I understand you are upset. Please think nothing of it." He would have invited her to take a seat, but he'd learned the hard way that it was considered somewhat tactless to encourage a ghost to do things that required a corporeal body. "Ms. Miller, you sought out assistance from an associate of mine, Ginny Weasley, today. Can you tell me why?"
"It was Eduardo," the ghost said, and she sounded to be crying now. "He was a ghost at Bath Abbey, where he was a monk two hundred years ago...he was always so pleasant, always made sure all the candles stayed lit, even the ones in the basement, even though Muggles can't get down there..."
"What happened to him?"
"I don't know! I went to ask him if he knew where Matilda went—she haunts the Little Theatre in Bath, or she did, I haven't been able to find her either—anyway, I went down to the basement, where Eduardo goes when Communion is being held, so as not to disturb the Muggles—and he wasn't there, and the candles were out—but there was a wizard there, and he saw me and p-pointed his wand at me and so I—I scampered." The ghost wavered slightly.
"When did you last see him? Eduardo, that is."
"Just yesterday. And the wizard...he definitely wasn't there then." The ghost flashed bright silver for a moment. "Is this the man who has been...been killing ghosts all round Britain?"
"I think so," Harry said grimly. "Ms. Miller, we're going to go try to apprehend him. How long ago did this all happen?"
"An hour ago? Maybe two? It's...hard to keep track of time when you haven't got a body."
Harry winced at his faux pas. "Do you know the best way to get into the basement?"
The ghost made a bobbing motion that could have been a nod. "The third candelabra from the back wall of the Abbey, on the right side," she said. "Tap it thrice with a wand, wait two beats, then tap twice more. It will open up to a stairway. I don't think there are any other ways in, but..."
Harry nodded. "Ms. Miller, you have been most helpful. Before you leave, you will want to check in with the Office of Departed Magical Persons, two floors down. They'll need to confirm that I've spoken with you today, and they'll help you from there. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"If...if you could somehow help Eduardo..."
Harry shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid if the necromancer's already gotten to him, there's nothing I can do. But I will make sure he can't do this to anyone else."
The ghost gave a little sob and winked out. Harry stood and donned his own robe, outside-in, and strode to where Perry stood against the wall with his five hit-wizards in Muggle dress.
"Bath Abbey, on the east side," he said shortly, drawing his wand from his holster. "We'll rendezvous with Jackson and secure the building before moving in. It sounds as though there's only one way into the basement, and that's where we need to go. To the Armory first."
They all walked briskly down the hall, Harry in the lead, turning his head over his shoulder so he could brief his squad as they went. The other squad consisted of hit-wizards he had been assigned; for this, his first command, he had hand-picked these wizards (and one witch) himself. It was these wizards (and one witch) that he trusted to back him up in any situation. Indeed, some had saved his life more than once.
"The last disappearance was this morning. We have a confirmed sighting from a reliable ghost witness of a wizard in the basement of the Abbey approximately one hour ago. The basement is the haunt of the ghost that disappeared this morning. Our quarry is armed. There is one entrance into the basement, reportedly accessible by wand only."
"Potter!" Jameson called as they passed by his office door. "Perry said you had something."
"Yes, sir," Harry said, pausing for a brief moment. "Hot lead. Bath Abbey. I'll send Kelly straight away to let you know what happens."
"Good work, Potter. Make it count."
"I will, sir."
Aaron Lindsay popped up from his chair as Harry led his squad into the tiled room that had been dubbed "the Armory." "Potter. Same as the rest, then?"
"Right," Harry said with a brisk nod. "And if you've got anything that will repel malicious ghosts, that wouldn't go amiss either—I don't know how accomplished this bloke is but I don't want him catching us by surprise with an army of enthralled spirits."
"You got it. You want a haircut along with it?"
Harry managed to grin through the mental preparations he was making. "Maybe another time."
Lindsay gripped and pounded him on the back before assuming his no-nonsense expression and raising his wand. In less time than it took to walk there, he'd cast the rather complex remote shield charm, which would offer protection so long as the caster was alive and focusing on maintaining the charm—which was why Lindsay stayed here in the Armory rather than going out in the field. The squad would still have to use their own shield charms, but they'd be much less likely to be mortally wounded by a surprise attack if they were somehow rendered wandless.
"You good splitting that thirteen ways?" Harry asked seriously. Lindsay nodded curtly.
"I've done twenty before. Just don't take a week. Go get 'em."
"All right," Harry said, turning to face his squad. "Apparate on my mark. Three...two...one."
"Sir," Jackson said, approaching Harry as he gathered his bearings. "We've got the cooperation of the Muggles in charge at the Abbey—I told them we were searching for a fugitive and he may be hiding in the Abbey. They've closed tours for the day. We're free to enter, but we'll likely want to keep magic to a minimum until we're inside."
"Good work," Harry said absently as he scanned the area. The street in front of the entrance to the Abbey was deserted, which was odd—the Abbey was a major Muggle tourist attraction.
"Muggle repelling charm," Jackson confirmed. Harry nodded, then motioned his two squads close.
"We're going to go in. I'll open the passageway to the basement. Depending on how wide the passageway is, you'll follow two abreast—Perry, I want you at my right hand. No light, and keep your footfalls quiet. We want to surprise him if at all possible, if opening the passageway doesn't alert him. Stun and debilitate only, at the usual signal. I want a clean operation." He glanced around, saw assent on everyone's faces. "Wands out. Let's move."
His footsteps, even when consciously muffled, still echoed throughout the giant cathedral. It sounded like rather more than thirteen wizards were striding stealthily through the room along the right wall.
Every sense strained, Harry tapped his wand on the third candelabra three times, counted two beats, then tapped twice more. Rather than folding out in a noisy rumble, the wall before him simply opened, silently. He counted that as a bit of good luck, and hoped that the light filtering into the passageway wouldn't alert the criminal in the basement.
He descended the staircase slowly, placing his feet carefully before putting his weight on them. A ghost wouldn't necessarily notice a booby-trapped or trick step. Behind him, his squad followed silently as shadows. The stairwell began to wind and after the first few turns, dissolved into pitch blackness. Harry began to rethink his decision against light—this was not the first staircase he'd descended in pure darkness, but it was the first one where he was on point—when his next step came up short, signaling the end of the stairs and jolting him badly, alert as he was. Thankfully he didn't make much noise as he recovered, and he very carefully felt along the wall and stepped along it, not lifting his feet more than an inch above the ground to avoid stepping on something noisy. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face, but the room sounded like it was large.
He gave it to the count of fifteen and then, his heart pounding, brandished his wand. "LUMOS MAXIMA!"
Bright white light flooded the room; he threw his other arm over one eye to prevent himself from being totally blinded, his movement mirrored by the hit-wizards and junior Aurors. Harry had a brief impression of a thickset man lurching to his feet against the far wall, and then—
"STUPEFY!" "IMPEDIMENTIA!" "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" "SILENCIO!" and "EXPELLIARMUS!" echoed in thirteen different voices throughout the basement room, which was illuminated even more brightly by the flashes of colored light that accompanied the spells. Two of the spells ricocheted from the opposite wall and Harry ducked one almost lazily as it rebounded at him, dissolving into a shower of sparks on the stone wall behind him. The rest, however, had hit their intended target. A quick scan confirmed that he was the only target in the room, but—
"Homenum revelio," he said, scanning the room with his wand. The outlines of his squad glowed gold, as well as the prone wizard on the floor. Back by the staircase Kelly's Disillusionment charm shimmered. No other outlines appeared. Satisfied, he lowered his wand.
"Who has his wand?" he demanded as he motioned them all forward.
"I do, sir," one of the hit-wizards in Jackson's squad said, holding it up.
"Jackson, lift the Anti-Apparition jinx. Smythe, Apparate back to the Ministry immediately. Give the wand to Jameson and ask him to prepare a room for questioning. Kelly, go with him."
"Sir," the hit-wizards said in acknowledgment, and turned on the spot with sharp CRACKs.
"Incarcerus." Ropes shot from the end of Harry's wand and wrapped themselves around their prisoner, tightening. Only once the ropes stilled did Harry allow himself to relax slightly.
He knelt down next to the immobilized wizard, was pleased to see that he matched descriptions he had been working from for months. He stood, crossing his arms, reveling in a little bit of triumph.
"Well done, everyone," he said in satisfaction. "Let's get back. Jackson, go play Muggle, let the ones in charge of the building know everything is fine. Avoid memory modification if you can. Everyone else, to the Ministry and prepare for debriefing."
As Apparation cracks echoed about the room, Harry tried to shake off the feeling that this had been far too easy. It wasn't easy, he told himself. We were just prepared, and had a good tipoff, and so had the upper hand.
Whatever you say, the obstinate counter-voice said, and Harry did his best to ignore it.
It was dark and that special piercing kind of cold reserved for the heart of winter when Harry Apparated to the stoop of his house that evening, exhausted but quite pleased with himself. He was turning the doorknob when a hand landed on his shoulder and his overtuned reflexes, still not turned off after the events of the day, slammed into overdrive.
He drove his elbow back, was rewarded with an "Umph!" from whoever was behind him, and pivoted as he drew his wand from its holster and with a "stupefy" already at his lips, aimed...at Neville, doubled over and holding his stomach, gasping.
Harry froze. "Oh god. Neville, are you all right?" He hurried forward to put an arm around his shoulders and help him into the house.
"Bit keen, aren't you?" Neville wheezed as he lowered himself into a chair in the living room.
"I am so sorry," Harry said, mortification threatening to reduce him to giggles. "You should know better than to try and sneak up on an Auror."
"And as an Auror, you should know better than to let your guard down," Neville responded, somewhat breathlessly. "I was standing right across the street, Harry. You didn't see me?"
Harry had, actually, but in the dark had only seen the outline of someone standing under a street lamp. "I wasn't expecting you."
Neville stared blankly. "You weren't expecting me? Did you get my owl?"
"Yeah, but—I told Ginny to tell you I probably couldn't tonight—"
Neville shook his head. "I never got any response from you or Ginny. Where were you?"
"You remember that case I was working on, back before we..." Harry trailed off. Neville nodded. "Well. We got the guy. Today. Confessed under Veritaserum and everything. None of my men were harmed, we've got him behind bars in Azkaban, and I'm apparently going to be on the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow giving the press release." He'd not wanted to step forward at the press conference—as head of the Auror department, that was Jameson's privilege—but Jameson had nudged him forward, pressing the prepared statement into Harry's hands.
"You've earned it," Jameson had said seriously, clapping his protégé on the back. And so, to an onslaught of flashbulbs and dancing quills, Harry had stepped forward and accepted the accolades for what was probably the first major thing he'd ever done that was legitimately his own choice and doing.
It had felt good. The low whistle that Neville produced at the news made him feel good, too.
"Did you flash the badge?" Neville asked impishly. "Please tell me you flashed the badge."
"Actually, I didn't get to flash the badge even once," Harry said with mock despair. He smiled, then checked his watch. "It's probably too late for that conversation you wanted," he said apologetically. "And I really don't want to start that conversation by thrashing you."
Neville gave him an odd look that lasted for a split second before he chuckled. "I suppose so," he said. "Normally I'd say to hell with the time, but I've got an eight o'clock double N.E.W.T. class tomorrow morning—well, Sprout technically has the class, but I have to be there. If you're not busy tomorrow...?"
"Definitely," Harry said firmly. He stood along with Neville, went to walk him to the door with a tiny trickle of regret.
Neville paused at the door, then smiled that crooked smile of his. "It's really good to see you, Harry."
"You too," Harry said, and with an answering smile moved to put his arms around the man that he still loved, the man who had come back and would come back tomorrow.
The warmth of the embrace and the contentment that rose in his chest prompted him to lift his head, reach up to grasp the back of Neville's head, and bring Neville's mouth down to meet his. Neville made a small, muffled sound of surprise, but did not pull away, and yielded when Harry parted his lips and lapped at Neville's with his tongue. All at once, the excitement and adrenaline from the day charged through his veins, and it was almost with a growl that Harry pushed Neville against the door, one arm to either side, pressing him there with his body and nipping hungrily at his lower lip. He broke away and almost laughed at Neville's dumbfounded expression, his brow furrowed and his mouth slightly open.
"Stay tonight," Harry said, looking intently into Neville's hazel-grey eyes. There was no hint of a question in the phrase. Neville's eyebrows went to the other extreme, shooting up in surprise.
"Who are you, and what have you done with Harry?" he asked, an almost nervous smile spreading across his face, the slightest hint of approval in his tone.
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, going slightly up on his toes to nibble at Neville's neck.
"Well," Neville said, swallowing, "For one thing, you're not the nervous wreck I expected tonight. For another, usually I was the one who had you against the wall." He swallowed again as Harry nipped at his earlobe. "And who would continue to distract you while you attempted to talk. And who would tell you what you should do rather than ask."
Harry considered that for a moment, felt a sudden shock of understanding as it dawned on him what Neville was talking about. He leaned away, heart thumping.
"Oh. Uh, I..." He suddenly felt bashful, now that Neville had pointed it out. "I spent a lot of time today wearing my 'I'm in charge here' robes. I think it stuck, a bit." He licked his lips. "Sorry?"
"Don't be," Neville said, pulling Harry closer. "I kind of like you this way." He kissed Harry soundly for a few moments, then broke away. "But...it's a bad idea. We're not...we haven't talked things over yet, and that needs to happen before we can even pretend—"
"Neville," Harry said, locking eyes with him again. "If I'm taking a leaf from your book, then you take a leaf from mine: don't think about it. Act on impulse. Don't be overly concerned with consequences. Just...do what feels right." He pressed his hips against Neville's and Neville closed his eyes for a moment. "Stay tonight."
"You make a very convincing argument," Neville said, eyes still closed. He took a deep breath through his nose, gave Harry's shoulders a little squeeze, then opened his eyes, looking directly into Harry's, and exhaled. "Okay." He began to kick off his shoes, not breaking the eye contact as he shoved them to the side with his foot. He licked his lips. "Tell me what to do, Harry."