Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters and world created by JK Rowling. Anything you do not recognise is my own creation. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

– CHAPTER EIGHTEEN –

The Vow

Neville picked himself up off William's office floor and dropped into the leather couch Harry had vacated in the memory he had just seen. The truth of what he had just witnessed pressed hard on him. His mind whirred as he tried to click it all into place.

Luna … she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Taken, not by murder, but by mere accident, much like her mother decades previous. William's plan to restore the Luna he had once known, the wickedly enchanting girl, was done with the best of intentions. But it had the worst possible outcome.

And Harry would be looking for William.

'What did you find out?'

Ron was looking from the Pensive to Neville, eyes alight with curiosity. Neville considered Ron for long moments. Ron had to know the truth about Harry; after all, Harry might enlist Ron to find William just as easily as Neville had.

'You might want to be sitting down for this,' said Neville. A crease formed between Ron's brows, but he did as he was told. 'Harry's – Harry's not in his right mind, Ron.'

A rumble of thunder shook the office and large drops of rain began to patter against the window.

'You mean the Prophet's got it right?' asked Ron.

'In essence, yes.' Neville paused for a moment and considered how he was going to explain such a complex idea to Ron who, even before bludgeoning himself with alcohol, was never the sharpest knife in the drawer. 'You remember what Harry did, after the Battle of Hogwarts?'

'Jetted off with Luna, didn't he?'

Neville nodded. 'Exactly. At the time, none of us really wondered why he chose Luna, of all people. I guess we were all wrapped up in the tragedy of it all.'

'He always liked Luna,' said Ron slowly.

There was a silence, punctuated only by the lash of water against glass.

'Yes,' admitted Neville, 'but he loved your sister.' Ron closed his eyes for a moment. 'So why run off with Luna?'

'I guess … I guess they had some stuff in common. Y'know, like how they could see Thestrals before anyone else …'

'Exactly! He saw himself in Luna; or rather, he saw the version of himself that he wanted to see.'

'You're not making any sense, mate.'

Neville got off the couch and started pacing furiously. It was all starting to come together; all of it.

'Don't you see, Ron? Luna lost her mum under horrific circumstances, and along came this … this self-defence mechanism she has. It more or less protected her from feeling that way ever again. Think back to when you were trapped in Malfoy Manor. How did she seem? Her life was in constant danger, and she had no idea if her father was dead or alive. Did she seem panicked?'

'No … she was pretty calm …'

Neville stopped pacing and rounded on Ron. 'And isn't that exactly how Harry would have wanted to feel after the battle: calm, numb, and unaffected.'

'You're making him sound insane …'

The tips of Ron's ears reddened at the suggestion that his former best friend was not all there, but Neville pressed on. 'So he ran off to escape his feelings. And Luna – well, she's been doing that for years, so she wasn't about to say no.'

'But they came back,' said Ron. 'I remember 'cos he picked me up a few times … you know, after … '

'Yeah, they came back to England, but where did they go?'

'Godric's Hollow …'

'Godric's Hollow. The house where Harry lost both his parents. Is that what a healthy person does, Ron? It would be like you pitching a tent in the Great Hall! So they make Godric's Hollow their home and then who does Harry befriend? Me and Bill, the two broken boys.'

Neville chuckled bitterly. 'I was so happy to be included for once that I was completely blind to what was happening to Harry –'

'You've been included before –' started Ron hotly, but Neville cut him off.

'No, Ron, I wasn't. Sure, I've tagged along a few times, but I never really had a proper friend. That is, until Harry came back from his travels. I never really asked myself why he would suddenly befriend me. It's the Luna decision all over again. But despite all that, the only thing really keeping him together is –'

'Luna,' finished Ron.

'Without Luna and the fantasy world they created together, he cracks.'

'But what about Ginny?' said Ron, groping for any evidence that Harry had not lost it. 'You said he visits Ginny every week.'

'Guilt,' said Neville simply.

'But … what's this got to do with –'

'Ron …'

The strained voice came, not from the two men in the room, but from somewhere inside Ron's robes. Neville whirled around, bewildered; it sounded like …

'Hermione!'

Ron frantically reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a cigarette lighter. 'What's wrong?' said Neville.

'It's Hermione,' said Ron. 'She's … she's in trouble.'

A cold trickle ran down Neville's back. This had something to do with Harry; he just knew it.

'Can you get to her?' said Neville.

Ron nodded. A fierce look passed over his face and, for the first time in ten years, Neville truly saw the man he had fought alongside at the Battle of Hogwarts. 'You'll come with me?' said Ron.

Neville nodded. 'One sec,' said Neville, as an idea came to him. He strode over to the shelf closest to William's desk. Blue files lined it; each had a white tab with a name on it.

'Hurry up!' snapped Ron.

'Accio Harry's file,' said Neville, and one of the files flew from the shelf and into Neville's hand. Neville pocketed it.

Ron clicked the cigarette lighter and William's office plunged into darkness. A pulsing blue light suddenly appeared just outside the frosted window. Just as Neville began to wonder whether it had always been there, it floated over to Ron sunk in to his chest.

'Ron, what –'

'Taken my arm,' ordered Ron. Neville hesitantly did as he was told and they Disapparated.

They landed in one of the strangest places Neville had ever seen. They were high up; so high that wispy clouds were drifting by. The air was thin and dry.

'Hermione!' yelled Ron, turning this way and that.

A clump of clouds floated away to reveal a shabby stone hut. By its entrance lay an old man and –

'Hermione!'

Ron sprinted to where Hermione lay. Her robes were soaked and blood oozed like lava from wounds across her chest and mingled with the red earth. Ron delicately placed her neck on his lap and tried to staunch the wound with his fingers, wand forgotten in his shock.

Hermione turned her pale face up to Ron. Tears formed in the corner of her eyes, but she did not have the strength to squeeze them out.

'Hermione … Hermione …'

Neville desperately traced his wand across her wounds and tried to stop the blood. But she had lost so much already, and he did not recognise the curse that had done it.

Ron stroked her face, his own twisted with anguish. Hermione opened her mouth and an awful gurgling issued from her throat.

'Harry …'

'W – What?' whispered Ron. Neville felt as though he had been punched in the chest.

Hermione closed her eyes and seemed to be mustering all her energy.

'It … was … Harry …'

All the strength left her and her head dropped into Ron's lap. Ron let out a terrible shriek that spoke of more than rage, more than sorrow, more than ten years of regret. It was the cry of a man who had lost everything. And then Ron's face hardened as he got to his feet. There was only pure loathing left. It was the same look Neville had seen on Harry's face at Luna's funeral.

'Ron … '

'I'm going to kill him,' snarled Ron. Before Neville could stop him, Ron Disapparated.

Neville crouched down next to Hermione. Miraculously, her chest was still faintly rising and falling. She was still alive. He knew international Apparition could kill her, but Neville had no choice. He had no idea where the nearest hospital was. He had no idea where he was. Neville picked Hermione up – she was remarkably light. Ensuring she was as comfortable as possible, he Disapparated …

… And Apparated into a waiting room full of Aurors.

In the split second it took the Aurors to realise Neville had appeared in their midst, Neville lay Hermione gently across three chairs and Disapparated.

Neville reappeared in the front seat of his car outside his home. His heart was racing. Harry had all but killed Hermione. Why? What in Merlin's name were they doing at the top of a mountain? Neville remembered that there had been an old man there, and regretted for a moment not bringing him along for questioning. But no, he thought, side-along Apparition with two passengers definitely would have killed Hermione.

Hermione … probably dead. She was the most brilliant witch of the generation, but even she could not stop Harry. What chance did he, Neville, have? How many more would he lose?

It all hit him at once and he began smashing his fists against the wheel. Right hook, left hook, right hook. The pain that began coursing up his arms was welcome. He did not care, then. Did not care if Muggles saw him. Did not care if he smashed the car to pieces. He just wanted to escape the cruel merry-go-round of death and loss.

Finally, Neville's head fell into his hands. Numbness spread through him like a parasite. Is this how Luna felt? Empty? How could she stand it? If he did not have Alice, Neville did not know if he could keep going …

Alice …

He knew he should go to her now, pack up their things and leave the country. If he kept going down this road, kept chasing Harry, there was only one way it would end. In his mind's eye, he saw the jet of golden fire that had destroyed Lazarus' wand. What could he do in the face of such power? What would become of his daughter if it were Neville bleeding out in the middle of nowhere?

But then … if Neville fled, who would be next on Harry's kill list? Ron, who was now hell-bent on finding his former best friend. Ron had no idea what he was up against. William, too, was in grave danger; though Neville owed the man nothing, he could not stand aside and allow Harry to murder William.

Neville had no choice but to finish what he had started.

Before he did, Neville would see Alice, just in case this was the last time. He thought of Bill and Fleur's house and Disapparated.

Neville stood outside Bill's house for a while and allowed the rain to hit him. After all that had changed since his last visit, Neville was glad to see that number forty-five had not. The small, yellow bungalow was quirky as ever; it was almost defiantly cheerful. It gave Neville unspeakable comfort to know that his daughter was in there, hidden by the Fidelius Charm he controlled.

Neville rapped the door with his knuckle, though he knew the protective charms would have alerted Bill and Fleur to his presence. Fleur, radiant as ever, opened the door and let him in.

'Neville,' she cried, kissing him on either cheek, 'this is a pleasant surprise.'

Fleur was so heavily pregnant that she waddled from side to side as she led him into the living room. When he had taken a seat on the leather couch, she seemed to see him for the first time.

'What has happened to you?' gasped Fleur.

Neville did not know how to reply. She deserved the truth – she had already been victim to Harry – but Neville did not know if he had the energy to explain it.

'Hermione's been attacked,' said Neville. He realised that his voice was hard and cold. 'She's in St Mungo's fighting for her life. It was the same wizard who attacked your family.'

Stricken, Fleur brought her hand up to her mouth. 'How is this possible?'

'She was betrayed … by someone close to her. Someone she trusted.'

Fleur's grief suddenly became anger. 'Who is this traitor? Why have the Aurors not found him?'

'He's proving to be very elusive and extremely dangerous. There's no telling when he will brought to justice. Where's Bill?'

'He has gone shopping for food.' Taking one look at Neville's face, she hastily added, 'He is under disguise, do not worry. And my husband can take good care of himself. But we must visit Hermione in hospital, Neville!'

'That's out of the question,' said Neville quietly, 'it's far too dangerous.'

'And what about my baby?' she said, pointing to her enormous stomach. 'We must relax the Fidelius Charm before he is born!'

Neville sighed; he had completely overlooked the logistics of Fleur's pregnancy.

'We'll bring him to justice soon,' said Neville, 'one way or the other.'

'You mean the Aurors will?' said Fleur, her eyes narrowed shrewdly.

'Of course,' said Neville. 'Listen, Fleur, there's a chance that this maniac might get to me like he did Hermione –'

'Then stay here where it is safe!'

'I told you; the Aurors want to use me as bait. It's the best chance of catching this wizard. They are affording me every kind of protection, but there's always a chance of something going wrong. If … If the worst happens, Gringotts have a copy of my vault key, which will pass directly to Alice. My will currently specifies that Harry and Luna would be her guardians in their roles as godparents, but –'

'If that happens – which it will not! – we will take her,' said Fleur firmly.

Neville shook his head. 'You are kind, but I could never ask that of you. My wish is for Alice to go to my last living relative: Andromeda.' Fleur looked ready to argue but Neville raised his hand. 'It'll never happen, Fleur, so it's not worth arguing about, right? Just promise me you'll present your memory of this conversation to the Ministry.' Fleur nodded reluctantly.

'Is Alice asleep?' asked Neville.

'Yes, but I can wake her, if you wish.'

Fleur started the monumental struggle of getting out of her chair, but Neville raised a hand to stop her. 'Don't get up, I just want to see her, then I'll be out of your hair.'

'You are not staying?' said Fleur, affronted.

'I can't,' said Neville, 'the Aurors want me to be visible.'

Neville left the living room and took the left-hand stairs, making sure not to make too much noise. He guessed Alice would be sleeping in Dom's bedroom, the first on the left. He was right. There were two single beds on either side of a bedside cabinet. Dom was instantly recognisable: unlike her sister Victoire, she had inherited the Weasley red hair.

Neville crept over and knelt beside Alice's bed. He stroked her blonde hair, which had for so long reminded Neville of his darling Hannah. But, for the first time, Neville saw Luna. She was not much younger than Luna had been that day, sitting in a pool of her mother's blood. Unbidden, an image of Alice came to him, holding Neville's blood-stained robes, staring off into the distance.

But Neville had a promise to keep. He would not allow his daughter, so bright and effervescent, to end up like Luna.

Neville could have stayed there for the rest of his life, drinking in every feature; the small button nose, the round pink face; all her mother in miniature, except for her eyes. He would see those eyes again. He had promised.

Neville leant in and whispered, 'Your father loves you.' He kissed her forehead and rose to his feet. He took one last, long look at her before ripping his eyes away.

He had a job to do.

Neville silently left the room and made for the guest bedroom which, he knew, would be empty. The room was similar in size and dimension to Dom's room, except with one bed in the centre of the room rather than two.

Neville sat on the bed and took out the casefile he had stolen from William's office.

William's handwriting was spidery, grubby and nigh-on illegible. Neville's heart sunk as he tried, and failed, to decipher the sentences. There were large blotches where some liquid – tears, probably – had smudged the ink. Neville could make out the occasional word: 'unstable', 'denial' and 'dangerous', but not enough to deduce where Harry could be. Neville chucked the file in frustration, sending loose parchment flying.

Then it hit him: he did not need to find Harry; he only needed to find William. Wherever William was, Harry was sure to follow.

'He'll be where you rest … I'll do it there …'

William would be at Luna's grave, laying some kind of trap for Harry. Neville got to his feet. He had a destination; he only hoped he would not be too late.