Disclaimer: Based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling

The first part of The Neville Trilogy

NEVILLE NUMQUAM

chapter five

dun dun dun!

Harry soon found out that all was not well. Hermione refused to let him kiss her. She kept rambling on about how it needed to be "the most special and wonderful moment of their lives." Ron had to drag Harry out of the room kicking and screaming because he'd decided he'd rather hang about in the dark and sulk.

"Right, that's the hard bit done," Malfoy said, quite clearly unfamiliar with Murphy's Law. "Now all we have to do is leave."

"What's the best way to get out?" Hermione asked. Malfoy's first response was to blink.

"Er... through the front door," he replied. He quickly remembered himself and added, "You filthy Mudblood."

Harry grabbed him roughly and slammed him into the wall. Everyone was quite surprised that someone of Harry's stature could manage this.

"Listen here, Malfoy," Harry spat. "That's my girlfriend you're talking to. So you'd better show her some respect or I'll cut off your knob and use it to pleasure a dog before I give it back by stuffing it down your throat and choking you. Clear?"

"Crystal," Malfoy whimpered. Harry released him.

"Now, Malfoy, what do you say to Hermione?"

"I'm sorry, Granger."

Harry glared at him.

"I'm sorry, Hermione?" Malfoy suggested. Harry was still glaring quite intensely. "What, how can I be more respectful than that?"

"Find a way," Harry growled.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, the most beautiful witch in the whole world and goddess of all things related to cleavage. May I please lick the dirt from between your toes to show how sorry I am?" Malfoy said, looking thoroughly disgusted as he did. Ron was in tears.

"This is the best moment of my life," Ron wept.

"Yes, as amusing as this is..." Neville began. "I think we'd better get going before any dark wizards show up and notice Harry isn't in his cell anymore."

The party agreed and made their way out of the dungeon, up the steps, through fourteen corridors Neville didn't recognise and into a parlour none of them had ever seen before.

"We're lost, aren't we?" he asked.

"I hate my house," Malfoy groaned. "I wish I lived in some shack like Weasley's so I wouldn't get lost so much."

"What do you do if you're getting up in the middle of the night and can't find a bathroom?" Neville asked.

"My ancestors thought of that. Approximately thirty-eight percent of the rooms in Malfoy Manor are bathrooms... or so I'm told. The place is so big no one's even pretended to try counting in like a century."

Neville looked at Malfoy, expecting him to look smug or to at least make a snide remark about Ron's mother. He did neither. In fact, he looked thoroughly depressed.

"So, where to now?" Neville asked.

"Pick a corridor and walk in a straight line in the hope that we eventually find the exit or at least a room we recognise," Malfoy said.

###

There was only half an hour's walk before Malfoy found somewhere he recognised. It was an armoury.

"Oh, now you're just taking the piss," Ron announced. "An armoury? Don't you think that's a bit much for a family dwelling in the middle of England and miles from any kind of civilization?"

"I think we ought to take a few weapons," Malfoy said. "Just a few swords and the like."

"Did your father teach you how to use a sword?" Neville found himself asking, imagining that that would be the sort of thing that a father would do.

"Nope," Malfoy replied. "The only things he ever taught me usually involved creative ways to gain sexual gratification from Muggles." Neville suddenly felt very awkward. What on earth could he say to that?

"My Great Uncle Algie taught me to fish," he decided upon.

"Excellent. We'd better hurry up, before Weasley manages to get hold of something sharp and injures himself," Malfoy's response was.

###

Unfortunately, Ron did find something sharp. And, upon find such an object, he decided to follow his natural instinct and insert it in his nose. It just happened to be a spear.

Neville was somewhat worried that Ron might actually have driven the spear all the way up his nose and into his brain (assuming that there was, in fact, a brain up there). If such a thing had happened Ron would probably be dead.

Hermione then proceeded to help in her own special way. She clutched Ron's limp body and, predictably, thrust Ron's face into her chest. Harry did not take this well.

"Get off my girlfriend!" he snapped, dragging Ron's body away from the typically sobbing Hermione and beating it around a bit. Normally Harry wouldn't have stood a chance against someone of Ron's size, but as Ron was probably dead at this point then Harry had the slight advantage.

Much to Malfoy's disappointment, Ron turned out to be alive.

Neville and Malfoy each chose fairly plain looking swords, made of steel. Harry favoured one made of gold, which was far too heavy to be practical and probably not sharp enough to cut butter. Ron had picked up the spear that had a tip coated in his own blood and snot. He'd also pulled out a menacing sort of thing that Hermione had tried to explain was a sort of Muggle wand, only made of metal and the only spell it could perform involved hurling bits of metal at you really fast.

Hermione whined that weapons were barbaric and insisted she would have nothing to do with them.

Malfoy was able to find his way towards the Entrance Hall. They arrived on a balcony overlooking the front doors, where Lucius Malfoy was currently greeting the Dark Lord Voldemort in the traditional Malfoy manner, which involved plenty of grovelling and kissing of feet.

"Oh drat," Neville muttered.

"What do we do?" Ron whispered.

"Could we sneak around them?" Neville asked. Malfoy shook his head.

"As far as I know this is the only exit. And even if it wasn't, how the bloody hell would I find any other exit anyway?" Malfoy snapped.

"HEY GUYS, WHAT ARE YOU WHISPERING?"

"Harry! You got your voice back!" Hermione squealed.

"Silencio," Neville hissed. Harry opened his mouth to apologise but Ron apparently doubted the effectiveness of Neville's charm work, because he clapped a hand across Harry's mouth.

"What was that?" Neville heard the darkest wizard for a century ask from the landing below.

Then Harry bit down on Ron's hand. Ron gave a somewhat less-than-manly shriek, which surely alerted Lord Voldemort to their presence.

"It's Potter!" Voldemort roared. "Death Eaters! Seize him!"

"Oh double drat," Neville snapped.

The Death Eaters raced up the stairs towards them. Neville promptly stepped forward, with his sword in hand and totally unaware of how to use it properly. He figured he was holding it right, so he might be able to bluff them a little.

"Run!" he called to them. "I'll hold them off!"

Malfoy didn't need telling twice. He turned and fled at the first opportunity. Harry gave a roar of outrage and stepped forward with his massive gold sword. For a moment the Death Eaters on the steps slowed, until Harry attempted to flourish the blade and dropped it. There was a moment of hesitation on both sides before Harry turned and bolted for it himself. Hermione quickly followed, screaming for Harry something about how she would sacrifice herself for him if necessary. Ron was busy fussing over where Harry had bitten his hand. He then noticed that it was just him and Neville against about fifteen Death Eaters. He carefully weighed up his options in the space of about half a second and promptly ran off after the others.

"Oh, silly little boy," one of the Death Eaters cackled. "Bow before the might of the Dark Lord, and we might show you some mercy."

"No," Neville replied firmly.

"No?" the Death Eater repeated, seemingly dumbfounded.

"That's right, no," Neville assured him. "You see, once you have felt the wrath of my sword you will be the ones begging for mercy."

"You do realise that we have wands, right? We can just cast a simple disarming charm and then kill you."

There was a moment while Neville noticed the tragic flaw in his plan.

"Triple drat," Neville muttered. He threw the sword as hard as he could at the Death Eater, hoping to buy himself a few precious seconds.

There was a bit of a commotion as the other Death Eaters tried to remove the sword that was currently embedded in their colleague's face. Fair play to the lad, he wasn't making a big deal of it. In fact, he was keeping quiet and letting his mates get on with it.

Meanwhile, Neville sprinted down the corridor after his friends.

He thought he could hear Hermione's shrieks up ahead at one point. He was so sure he was gaining on them when suddenly a figure stepped out from behind a statue and tripped him, sending him sprawling across the floor. He coughed and tried to drag himself to his feet, only to feel a boot on his back pushing him into the ground.

"Ah, young Master Longbottom," Lucius Malfoy's characteristic drawl said from above him. "So, you like to play with swords, do you?"

There was a thump as Neville's sword was driven into the ground beside him, still wet from the other

Death Eater's blood.