Chapter 33

Neville Longbottom couldn't help himself, as he flew through the air, propelled by the impact of a magical mortar, he had to wonder how he kept getting himself into these situations. He pulled himself back to his feet almost as soon as he was able to. One had to, in these situations, if you stayed on your back, you died.

Some of the Muggles with him, if they could still be called that, learned that the hard way as the bombardment continued. He threw all of his strength into a massive shield behind him as he gestured for the Muggles to keep moving.

They'd been Fumiko's idea. He didn't know much about Alexander Avery's wife. They'd been personable when they'd been around Hogwarts together. But the Averys preferred to spend their time in London. Neville stayed at the school most nights of his early teaching career. She seemed nice, caring, and now he thought, too thoughtful.

They should have left the Muggles to die as soon as they'd figured out what was going on. It was callous, but saving them, well, saving them would have put them in the situation that he found himself in now.

Except he was alone.

Well, that was his own damn fault. He told Fumiko and Alexander to leave. Granted, at the time, he assumed he'd be right behind them. But even as they fled further from the citadel, there wasn't any relief in the apparition suppression magic that flared out behind them. He could have probably gotten himself through it relatively unscathed.

Or he could try to make a Portkey, but as he'd never successfully done that, it seemed like not the best decision. But he wouldn't be able to apparate more than one of the Muggles with him. And if he was going to save them, then dammit, he was going to save more than one of them.

Although what started as about eighty appeared to have whittled down to about twenty now. He paused and slowed, gesturing for some of the Muggles to keep moving as he reinforced his shield once more.

They were getting smarter with the bombardment, aiming it more around him than directly at him, hindering his pathing. He had to adjust the shield to try to protect as many of the Muggles as he could. He watched in vain as a few of them staggered the wrong way only to be torn to pieces from the magic falling from above.

He kept being shocked by the range of the spells. It just didn't seem possible. But he'd never had to run from what may as well have been magical artillery before. He couldn't help but wonder, as another explosion shook the ground near them, just what Harry Potter would do in this situation.

Probably catch all of the spells and throw them back to where they came as if it was nothing, then shrug and ask what was for dinner. He still wasn't quite sure Harry Potter was real.

He also wasn't quite sure what the hell he'd hoped to accomplish by charging at Gellert Grindelwald's stronghold. That was an obviously foolish idea. But in his defense, at the time he didn't honestly think he was rushing off toward Grindelwald's stronghold.

In hindsight it seemed obvious. Strange reports of almost unheard of magic? Things happening in the area that shouldn't have been possible? A marked increase in unexplainable phenomena and disappearances of people? There were really only two options. And Harry Potter was in Japan.

Well, or so the Averys said. He didn't have much reason to doubt him. And he didn't think Harry had a tendency to make people disappear.

Well, that was wrong. It didn't take much digging to find out that people did disappear in areas where Harry spent a great deal of time. Or, perhaps, Harry stayed in areas where people needed to disappear.

Neville had tracked his movements closer than most. And had even looked in on some of the victims. He'd yet to find one where they didn't deserve it at least a bit. A couple were questionable. But he'd only received bits of the stories from clearly aggrieved parties. And those stories had a clear bias.

Another explosion staggered him but he made it to a small concrete basin. He'd seen it on their way in and figured it offered some protection against the magical assault. He helped some of the slower moving Muggles into the basin and then gestured for them to move into a covered area.

Some argued with him as he funneled them through what had to be a sewer drainage pipe. He made the decision in an instant to push them back toward the citadel. He had no interest in fighting in a pipe, but it would offer him at least a choke point and some defense if he had to fight.

Mostly he was hoping they'd pursue away from the citadel rather than toward it. So if he could hide out here he could hopefully have enough time to formulate an escape plan. Assuming the Muggles with him didn't do anything stupid. Which seemed like a certainty he'd have to deal with at some point.

He led them through the tunnel, waiting for it to twist and turn a few times before he called them to stop. He hadn't listened much to their complaints as he moved. Now he took more of a moment to study them.

A man perhaps twenty years his senior had, more or less, taken command of the small group. He was grumbling in French when Neville stopped them and moved to block the end of the tunnel.

"We can't stay here," the man said.

"I don't intend to," Neville answered, his French feeling rustier on his tongue than he'd have expected. Aurors were given a crash course in the European languages, but he still always felt odd using it. "But if we can give them the slip it will buy us some time to get out of here properly."

"Or we're pinned in a tunnel and they kill us all," the man spat.

"We can't outrun them forever in an open field. Or did you not notice how most of your number didn't even make it this far?"

"The ones who didn't were zombies anyway," the man spat back.

"My daughter was fine," a woman screeched. Neville had to slip himself between the two of them as she thrust herself forward. A small bit of magic hit him in the back but he didn't sense anything else. When he turned to face the woman she looked shocked as she peered at her hands.

"Arguing isn't going to help right now."

"And who are you?"

"Neville Longbottom," Neville said. He wondered if he should use a fake name. But there didn't seem to be much of a point to it. He peered around the concrete drainage area they were hiding in. There wasn't much to say about it as the area around them rumbled. It certainly wasn't Fort Douaumont, as it shook around them from magic above, but it didn't need to be.

At least he hoped it didn't need to be.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" the man argued.

"No."

"What is going on?" another woman asked. She was maybe his age. Her clothing was torn and she was shaking as she spoke. He looked at her for a moment, long enough to notice the blue tinge on her skin and wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him or not. Still, the amount of general ambient magic in the area was something to think about. And not all of it could be caused by the constant bombardment.

Neville paused. He peered down the tunnel. So far he heard nothing following them. But he knew they couldn't have been more than a few minutes ahead of their pursuers. He wondered if he should split up the group. But he knew doing so would almost certainly mean death for quite a few of them.

He also knew he should try to get some information out of them. They were, at least for the moment, safe. And it might be the only chance he got to figure out exactly what had happened to these people.

In his time as an Auror they'd drilled into him the importance of intelligence. There was very little one side could confidently do if they did not have some type of proper intelligence. And for all he knew, the Muggles were seconds away from exploding.

"What did they do to you?" he asked. It drew stares from most of the people. The more he looked around the more he realized that only about half of the score or so of people left with him even looked coherent. Some had collapsed against the walls and were merely moaning.

"How the hell should I know?" the older man growled at him.

"How did it start?" Neville asked, wishing he'd been better at this. He never quite knew what questions to ask or when to ask them. Others he'd served with hadn't had the same qualms. They seemed to be able to wheedle out the most important information in seconds from whomever they managed to talk to. Neville was beyond jealous of that ability.

"I don't know," the man said.

"You're very helpful," Neville sighed.

"So are you," the man spat right back at him. Neville supposed he walked right into that one. The older woman, though, spoke up.

"I don't know," she said and Neville figured this was going to be rather tedious. But she continued after only the briefest of hesitations. "It was a few weeks ago I think. Around Christmas."

Neville winced at her words. She looked more confused and then looked around.

"But it's so warm," a young man said. His face was sunken and he looked like the photos of concentration camps Neville had seen during his primary school days. He had to wonder how he was still standing. As he collapsed against a wall.

"It is warm," the woman said, looking at Neville for answers.

"It's summer," Neville answered. The woman looked shocked and she shook her head, as if doing so would prevent her from having to acknowledge what Neville was saying.

"That can't be," she said. "It was just Christmas. Little Leo loved his new bicycle…" she started to shake as she wrapped her arms around herself. Neville knew she'd be useless until she came to grips with her missing months. He looked around, hoping for any sort of help from the people with him.

It was the younger woman who saved him.

"They came into town like tourists," the younger woman said. "They spoke German like there was no chance we could possibly understand it. They stayed for a few days. Nothing unusual about it. Their conversations were strange."

"How so?"

"They'd frequent the cafe I'd work at. They talked about things that didn't make any sense. Like magic. I thought they were filming a fantasy series or something," the woman said. Neville frowned to himself. He'd never considered that as an excuse for a slip of the tongue about magic. But he supposed it worked easily enough. Even if they'd assumed she hadn't understood them. And even if she made it up herself. He knew that the illusions people created in their own mind were often the most powerful.

"How did that lead to this?" Neville asked. The boy who'd slumped into the wall vomited up a sort of glowing green bile. It did not look natural. Neville scanned the rest of the group for signs of anything similar among the others but nothing seemed amiss.

"I don't remember," she said. She reached for her head as she spoke and Neville felt a flare of magic, although not one from her directly. Something lingered around her head. It felt enough like a memory charm for him to get the general idea of what it was doing to her.

He wondered if he could fix it. He assumed Harry Potter could. But he wasn't Harry Potter. If he was he wouldn't be hiding in a sewer with a bunch of deranged Muggles. He knew better than to try to fix it without knowing exactly what it was. He didn't want to destroy the poor girl if it could be avoided.

Then again, with each passing moment he was starting to suspect it couldn't be avoided.

"They, they," the old man stuttered. His hand shot to his head and he groaned. "They did something."

"I need to know what. If I know what I might be able to undo it," Neville said, hoping that would spur more action. As he spoke the man leaning against the wall vomited again. This time chunks of red were worked into the green bile. He collapsed fully to the ground and Neville couldn't do much more than watch as the life drained away from him.

That was a problem.

"I kind of like it," a young girl exclaimed. Neville spun around and saw a girl somewhere around ten to twelve. He hadn't noticed her before. But given that her arms were currently invisible, that didn't seem like a surprise. She twirled around and her arms came back into view. She also started to float a few inches above the ground.

"Stop doing that! It's unnatural!" the older man growled. The girl stuck her tongue out at him and vanished completely. Neville shook his head and wondered if there were more he hadn't noticed. It was impressive enough that she'd gathered such talent already. Then again, they may have been at this for months. And he had no idea how long they'd been working on magic.

"It's fun!" the girl exclaimed from somewhere behind them. Neville thought he should tell them to keep quiet but the entire area shook again and he didn't have the heart to do it. Their echoing moans would almost certainly give away their position but Neville was well past thinking he could avoid that.

"I need to know more. I can see they did something to your heads," Neville said.

"You know what they did. You're one of them! We saw what you did!" the man argued. He glared at Neville. He tried his best not to blame the man. He could only imagine all of what was going on in his head at that moment. Lashing out was to be expected.

But still, it wasn't like Neville was thrilled with his current predicament.

"I'm the only thing standing between you and death," Neville retorted. He shouldn't have done it. He knew that. He shouldn't have engaged. It wasn't going to help the situation or him get any more information out of them.

"They weren't going to kill us," the man said. "It doesn't make sense for them to kill us."

"They were killing people though," the older woman said. "They killed my husband. Something went wrong and they killed him."

"And look around," the younger woman said, gesturing to the corpse in the bloody vomit.

"What went wrong?" Neville asked.

"I have no idea," the older woman answered. "How could I know what they were doing?"

"Good point," Neville said. But then a thought flashed to his head. It would be a clever trick if it worked. One he wouldn't have given himself credit for years ago. But it just might work. He peered over the crowd. "Can you describe it?"

"I don't know what they were doing," the woman reiterated. There was a groan from the crowd as a few of them tried to speak. Hands shot to heads and a couple fell to their knees. Neville interrupted their noise.

"I know. But don't tell me that. Don't even speculate on that. That doesn't matter. Just tell me what you saw, or felt, or what happened in the most basic terms. Describe it as clinically as you can," Neville felt his diction speed up as he spoke. It was a bit too Allegory of the Cave. But in a pinch it might be exactly what he needs.

"One day after they came to town I left with them," the waitress said. "I don't remember being invited. Or doing anything. I don't think I was coerced. I don't know."

"No one makes me do anything," the older man said, with the distinct tone of a man who didn't make many of his own decisions.

"We wound up in the castle? Is it a castle? It felt like a castle," the waitress continued unabated.

"Close enough," Neville said.

"We wound up in cells," the older woman said.

"It's all hazy. I think they drugged us," the younger one said. She bit her bottom lip as her eyes glossed over slightly. He'd seen the same expression on the faces of addicts and thought it couldn't have been a good sign.

Close enough to drugging, Neville figured. He doubted they used something as primitive as Muggle narcotics but if the end result was the same why bother correcting them?

"They'd take us somewhere and, well, they must have done something to us but, I don't know," the older woman said.

"They'd strap you to a wall and point at you," the old man grumbled. "Sometimes it was excruciating."

"Sometimes it wasn't," the young woman sighed wistfully. The older woman blushed and looked away as she continued to speak.

"One day a strange man showed up. He held his hand toward my chest and he took something from me." She paused and seemed to contemplate her words.

"Me too," the younger agreed. A chorus of agreement echoed after her.

"Everything got frigid," the man said. More agreement echoed.

"But then he put something back and it was wonderful," The young woman sighed.

"No it wasn't," the older said. "It was wrong. It was watery. It was like my body wasn't solid anymore. Like I was melting on the inside."

Neville peered around the group. There were some nods of agreement from those around him. A few grabbed themselves as the memories rushed back.

"What else happened?" he asked, sensing they may have been getting closer to gaining some information he could use.

"Nothing," the young woman said. "Just that. Over and over. Every time I felt a little less but a little happy too. And then you were there and now we're here."

"That's it?" Neville asked.

"That's it," the invisible girl said cheerily.

"You have to know what's going on," the man growled. "You're one of them!"

"Not one of them," Neville said. "In fact, I was sent here to investigate them. What's happening feels wrong. People disappearing, strange events. We wanted to find out what was causing it."

"Your friends abandoned you," the man added. Neville glared at him. They'd done nothing of the sort, of course. He'd told them to leave. He'd hoped they'd be back by now with help. But if he was being honest they'd never discussed that possibility. In fact, the conversation hadn't been much more than 'Go, get out of here!' so expecting the calvary to come rushing to his aid seemed foolish.

"It's all part of the plan," Neville said. Another little tidbit from his Auror training popping into his mind. Never let bystanders know you were lost. Stay in control, stay calm, keep order. All of that was crucial to success.

"Sure it is," the man scoffed. Neville wanted to argue with him, or to hit him, or to do anything to change his damn attitude. But there was nothing to be gained from that. He shifted his attention back to the group. Very few of them seemed to be in any condition to continue moving.

He peered around, looking for his best options for an emergency Portkey. It was reckless and very dangerous, but it might save more of them than he'd kill by trying it. And at this point he wasn't sure that was his worst option.

"I hear voices down here!" a voice boomed down the tunnel. Echoes, Neville thought, he should have done something about the echoes. Well, he should have done a lot of things different, he knew. But he was out of practice. It took him a moment to realize the voice echoing toward them was German.

"Fuck," he said.

"You're going to get us killed," the man growled and started to shamble off down the pipe further.

Probably, Neville thought.

"Just keep moving," Neville said. He started to push a few of the people down the tunnel as he heard the footsteps grow louder. A few figures emerged around the corner and started firing spells at them.

He threw up a shield, blocking the entire tunnel with his own power. He let out a grunt as their spells hit against it. There was always a bit of feedback when someone tried to break one of your shields. But it never felt like much. With the adrenaline of most fights he'd never noticed it. But these people? Each impact of a curse on his defenses felt like a punch in the gut. His knees buckled as he held the defensive barrier up.

He peered up, wondering if he could collapse part of the structure down on them to block their route and give him a break from holding up the defensive magic. It was risky, but every idea he had at this point was risky.

He fired a few spells back at the approaching combatants but they were weak and ineffective as he held up the shield. He let his eyes flash to the ceiling, picking a spot to try to pull down on then he felt a weight lift from him.

"I can do this," the invisible girl said as she appeared. Her hands were outstretched, touching his shield, as she took the spell from him. He blinked at her, momentarily stunned. Such a thing shouldn't have been possible. But this preteen girl was doing it without any training.

"You should run," he said when he regained his composure.

"Someone has to fight them," she answered as if he were an idiot. "It may as well be us. Well, it has to be you. I don't know how to fight. But I can do this," she said, nodding toward his shield. It flared with more power as she leaned to it. He couldn't help but admire her bravery. And if all he could do was buy them all a few more minutes. Well, maybe that would be enough.

He stepped forward and stared down the three men rushing down the tunnel toward him. Three on one were odds he'd have avoided even as an Auror. But sometimes life did not give one that luxury. He slashed away a couple of their spells as they approached. He shot a blast of power toward the closest one. He hadn't expected to hit the man, not that it wouldn't have benefitted him to do so, but the first spells were always the easiest to avoid. And they avoided them.

But it served as the distraction he needed. He shot a blasting curse up into the ceiling, hoping to cave in the area around him. But all he managed to do was drop a chunk of concrete onto one of them. Which was effective in its own way to be sure, but not quite as effective as he was hoping.

He ducked back behind the shield. The young girl winced against the spells that hit it. He pushed that thought from his mind as he formulated his next plan. He pulled some of the concrete forward and threw it at the man in the front.

The German sensed it coming and dodged around it. Neville banished it back at them before it could hit the shield and once again pressed his way forward. The concrete impacted on the back wall of the tunnel and fell to the ground as Neville fired a series of hexes in every direction.

He didn't aim directly at either of the two left, instead hoping the barrage would get a lucky hit or two and save him for a moment. He spun his wand in quick circles and shot out a series of magical daggers that circled through the tunnel. The second man vanished the daggers as the first continued to assault Neville.

Neville ducked back behind the shield and readied another series of spells. Part of him wanted to throw fire around, but that seemed like a recipe for causing far more carnage than he intended. He settled for some more blasting curses. The impacts around the Germans sent some shards of concrete through them.

A sizable chunk of it impacted on the second man, which staggered his shielding of the first. Neville jumped on the opportunity and fired a series of cutting hexes at the first one.

The man managed to counter six or seven of them but then the eighth, ninth, and tenth. Nor did he have any answer for the blasting curse that hit his chest. Neville ignored the gore as he turned to face the second man.

He'd long since learned that the disgust would come later, after the fight, and take time to come to terms with. But now, all that mattered was living, and letting those they'd wronged escaped.

He slashed his wand toward the second man, sensing victory, when a bludgeoning curse hit his size.

He crashed into the wall and turned to see who fired the spell. It couldn't have been the first man. His chest cavity was currently exposed and his body strewn about the floor. He hadn't heard any other voices or approaching footsteps. And he'd been looking at the second.

He hadn't heard any voices or approaching footsteps. But he knew fights were chaotic and he could have easily missed it. He cursed himself as the assailant came into view.

The third stood over him, raising his wand as concrete dust fell off of him. Neville could only blink at him. He'd dropped half the ceiling on the man, concrete and earth spilled into the tunnel blocking almost all of it.

How the man had gotten back up from that, much less rejoined into the fight, was completely beyond him. He shielded a few spells as the man approached him. The second had recovered and joined him.

Neville spared a look for the girl. She was holding his shield up still, pushing forward as if trying to throw it toward him. But that wouldn't work. She had to know it. He mouthed the word 'Go' at her as he continued to defend himself and try to work his way to his feet.

Another shield was about all he could do to defend himself. And they kept a constant barrage of magic on him as he collapsed back against the wall.

The girl shrieked. She dropped his shield and vanished once more. Neville hoped she'd run. But when he heard the patter of small footsteps they were growing closer to him. He cursed under his breath and threw his magic outward, trying to enforce his shield and give himself any type of momentum to continue the fight.

The second man spun to counter the girl. When he realized he couldn't see her he decided to conjure a giant spiked ball and throw it down the tunnel. Neville heard another shriek and saw a slash of blood spray across the wall.

Crying accompanied the blood. But it all started to pool in one area. She wasn't well enough versed in combat to flee and hope for the best, or to stop the bleeding. Instead she crumbled.

He couldn't blame her. He doubted she was even old enough to attend Hogwarts. But she'd been brave, and daring, and deserved far more than to bleed out in a sewer.

Rage swelled in him. Enough that the man hunting the girl turned his attention back to Neville. He had to do something. He had to come up with something. He had to get her out, no matter what it took. Even if he exploded trying, he would get her out. He let his magic swarm around him, letting it coat his skin in as much of a thin shield as he could manage. Then he lunged toward where she was, hoping to grab her and apparate anywhere. If he could save her it would be enough. One was better than none.

He felt spells impact against him. But the shield held. At least until they threw one of the chunks of concrete at him. The impact was lessened, but it still pushed him away from his goal and sent him skidding away from the girl. Her sniffling grew louder with each moment.

Neville flipped himself around and shot cutting hexes toward the Germans. They all went wide and he readied himself to defend against what he knew must be coming.

Maybe, he thought as he braced himself for the end, the girl would manage to escape in the meantime. The German he'd dropped the concrete on raised his wand and Neville saw power flare on the tip. He brought it slashing down and in that instant, his head exploded.

Neville blinked up at the headless corpse. The second German's eyes widened as he spun toward the invisible girl, undoubtedly thinking she'd done something. But she was still crying and nothing gave any indication she had done anything.

The second German spun around, but before he even finished turning, his headless body joined his companions. Neville blinked, hoping that the image of a head splattering off of a neck wouldn't be seared into his nightmares for years to come as a figure walked down the tunnel.

"Why," the figure said, seeming more annoyed than anything. "Is everyone always inside something."

"What are you talking about?" Neville asked.

"Fudge and Percy were seven stories underground when I came for my Hogwarts interview, Emily was in a fucking mountian in Iran, and now you're in a sewer. Do you have any idea how hard it is to apparate underground from a thousand miles away?"

"Oh, something you're not perfect at?" Neville scoffed as Harry Potter held his hand out to him. He took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"I'm here, aren't I?" He peered around and before Neville could even think to say anything, he waved his hand in the direction of the girl. She appeared, looking startled by it. Harry leaned down near her and Neville noticed a good ten inch gash along her side. She looked rather pale and her hands pressed against it. She'd at least been smart enough to try to stop the bleeding. Clever girl, he thought.

Neville's knowledge of field medicine flashed through his head. They had to fix that. She already looked rather pale and there was no telling just what they'd done to her and what effect that may have on her constitution. He made to cast a basic diagnostic spell but before he could Harry waved his hand once more and the wound closed. In almost the same instant the color came back to her face.

"How did you do that?" she asked.

"I'm Harry Potter," he said.

"I don't know what that means," the girl answered. Neville chuckled. He and the girl, perhaps, had something in common.

"I get that a lot. If I'm being honest I'm not sure what it means either," he said with a smile. The girl giggled.

"Are you alone?" Neville asked.

"Some Auror named Harper is with me. He's up top looking to send a signal back to England to see where we are."

"I think he was a few years behind me in training, seemed like a good kid."

"Are they gone?" the gruff man said from down the tunnel. Neville cursed under his breath, wondering why they hadn't simply fled.

"It appears that way," Neville said as the group filtered back toward him.

"These are the escapees Fumiko mentioned?" Harry asked.

"Who's this?" the man answered.

"Harry Potter," the girl said, as if the old man was the dumbest person in the world for not knowing that already. Harry merely smiled and nodded at the girl, as if that was all the explanation he could possibly need.

"I don't like him," the man said. Harry turned and raised his brows at Neville. His expression was fairly clear as it asked one question: Why, pray tell, are we helping the French? Neville merely shrugged his shoulders.

"He's cute," the young woman said, biting her lip once more as she peered at him.

"And happily married," Harry answered, holding his left hand up.

"Oh, you and Priya?" Neville asked.

"Yeah."

"My felicitations."

"Thank you."

"I feel like I should have warranted an invite," Neville added, mostly to tease his friend. Harry merely smiled.

"There were a whole four attendees."

"So?"

"Including the bride and groom."

"So?"

"Is this a proper use of our time?" the old woman asked.

"I don't see why not," Harry answered.

"They are trying to kill us," the man growled. Harry shrugged as if he didn't find that to be interesting information.

"That doesn't matter now, I'm here."

"And you're that big of a deal?"

"Yes."

"You have no idea what you're up against!" the man said. "The things they can do!"

"I have a better idea than you," Harry shot back, shutting down the man with a look. Neville could feel some power behind it. And it appeared the Muggles could too, as they cowered away from him. "And they have no idea what they're up against."

"There's something off about them. They're stronger than they should be," Neville said.

"Borrowed power for weak men," Harry answered.

"They're still going to use it against you. And they're quite effective at using it," Neville said.

"I'm sure they will," Harry answered. He smiled as he spoke. His eyes flashed and he peered around. It was like he was having fun. Neville shook his head. Fights had never been fun for him. They were nothing more than moments of sheer terror sandwiched between what felt like eons of boredom and waiting.

It was funny in a way. When they were ongoing one wanted nothing more than for them to be over. But once they were over, and one knew they would start again, well, one would rather get on with it than keep waiting.

"You're funny," the girl said. Harry tilted his head and looked at her.

"That is not the vibe I was going for," he said. The girl shrugged her shoulders.

"I know. But you're still funny."

"Well then. You are…?"

"Amelia," she answered. Harry paused and raised his brows at her. Neville had no idea why that name would be significant to him but there were very few things he'd ever seen that focused his friend's attention so quickly.

"She's very talented," Neville said. "Show him what you can do?"

"What? Oh? This?" Amelia answered while vanishing. Harry looked back toward Neville as if he didn't find it all that impressive.

"She also took control of one of my shield charms without any training," Neville answered. Harry's brow raised a bit but again, it seemed like he didn't find it that impressive, so Neville added. "And she's a Muggle."

"Interesting," Harry said. "I wonder if that means children are more affected than adults."

"I'm not a child," the child insisted. She appeared again to stick out her tongue at him to both demonstrate her displeasure and show how adult she was.

"That's a bit of information I'd rather not know," Neville said.

"It will be far easier to garner support if he's targeting children," Harry said.

"Do you plan on letting this last more than the next couple of hours?" Neville countered.

"I didn't plan on letting it last the past eight months, but here we are," Harry shrugged. "Sometimes even I don't get what I want."

"Oh yeah," Neville snorted. "Name one time."

"The thirty-first of October, nineteen eighty one," Harry answered without a moment of hesitation. It took Neville longer than he cared to admit to to figure out what the importance of that date was.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Not your fault. I also wanted to live in Hokkaido and got outvoted and now I have to deal with the humidity of Shikoku," Harry answered.

"How did you get outvoted?" Neville asked, figuring he and Priya would each get one vote.

"Emily," Harry answered. "The traitor."

"Ah," Neville said. He felt his jaw tighten as he spoke. He still didn't like her. He didn't understand how Harry could have her around. There wasn't any point in arguing it though, so all he did was nod.

Harry, for his part, wasn't paying much attention to him. He paced between the Muggles. Amelia followed him closely, doing her best to look important. Most of the Muggles looked away from him or shifted away. Only the young woman met his gaze, still smiling hopefully.

He examined them as he walked through them. No one warranted more than two or three seconds of his time. When he was done he held up his hand and one of the chunks of concrete floated into the air.

Neville only watched as he created a Portkey with nothing more than the briefest of gestures of his left fingers. He swallowed his jealousy at that and shuffled off to the side. He peered around the group.

"Everyone touch the rock," he said. It took a few minutes of convincing but eventually all of the people huddled around the rock and put a hand on it. There was some groaning and mumbling as they stood around, looking like they felt rather foolish.

"What's the point of this," the gruff man asked. Harry ignored him. Instead he focused on the girl.

"This is going to take you someplace safe. When you get there, tell them that Harry Potter sent you. And that you'll only talk to Hermione Granger. Stick to that. Only talk to Hermione Granger," Harry said.

"I want to stay here," the girl growled at him. Harry smiled at her. He could see some of himself in her eyes. Young, but determined to do what was right.

"You can't," Harry said.

"I want to help!" she interrupted him. He only kept the patient smile on his face through her outburst.

"I'm asking for your help," he said. "I need you to make sure they're safe. I need you to tell Hermione Granger about everything that happened here. I need you to be the one that makes sure this never happens again."

"Oh," the girl said, her eyes going wide as the sudden weight of that responsibility fell onto her shoulders. She paled a bit, but nodded. Neville didn't think pinning all of that on her was the best idea. He doubted she understood Harry was being hyperbolic about the last sentence.

"So you'll do it?" He asked. He managed to look pleading as he peered down at the child. As if she was the most important person in the underground tunnel. There was some grumbling from the others there.

"Of course," Amelia said, as if he was an idiot for ever expecting anything else.

"This is stupid," the old man growled. He lifted his hand from the rock and made to leave. Harry turned his glare on him.

"Hand. Rock. Now," he said, his voice icy.

"You can't," the man started. But then he froze and a moment later placed his hand back on the rock. Neville thought he should scold him. But Harry's intentions were clear. And he had no intention of letting a grumbling old man make this take any longer than it needed to.

"What are you going to do?" he asked the girl.

"Help them," Amelia said with a shrug toward the others.

"And who are you going to talk to?"

"Uhm…"

"Hermione Granger," Harry said. He held a finger up to his head and a ghostly silver tendril pulled from him. After a moment it shifted into the familiar face of his old schoolmate. She looked slightly cross, much like she had any time she'd had to deal with Headmaster Potter.

"Right, Hermione Granger," the girl nodded. She looked awed by the floating ghostly figure. Harry dropped his hand and it vanished, pulling itself back into his head.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded. There was a brief response from the Muggles but in a moment they were gone, spiraling away. Neville wondered how he managed to create such an effective portkey, from an enclosed tunnel, in seconds. But he knew the answer Harry would give him so when he finally spoke, it wasn't to ask that question.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"You're here," Harry said.

"What does that matter?"

"There are very few people in England that I trust implicitly to do the right thing, regardless of circumstance," Harry said. Neville blinked at him. An odd sense of pride swelled through him. He wasn't sure if Harry had meant it as such a compliment but he chose to take it that way.

"Fair enough," he stumbled over his words. "Hermione will make sure they're well treated."

"If you want to leave I understand," Harry said. Neville paused at the change of topic. He did want to leave. But he always wanted to leave a fight. He hated them. But wanting to, and being able to, were two different things.

"Are you leaving?" he asked.

"Not yet," he said. It wasn't the answer Neville expected, mostly because it implied that he might consider it.

"Not yet?" Neville asked.

"We may not get an opportunity like this. I'm sure you've heard the reports that he's getting stronger. Delaying might be stupid. But I don't know what's up there. I can't make a decision without seeing it myself," Harry said.

"I'm not going to leave you alone here," Neville answered with as much conviction as could muster. Harry turned to look at him. For a moment he looked younger, less like he was trying to be strong and stoic, and he smiled.

"I appreciate that," he said. Neville felt the blush rise on his cheeks and knew he needed to change the topic before he said something too embarrassing for either of them to ever live down.

"It's going to take a bit to walk out of the tunnel," Neville said. He nodded toward the collapsed bit they'd have to navigate before the path leading out. Harry chuckled and held up his right hand, palm up.

He brought his fingers up and formed a cone shape. He held them there for a moment before he opened them. Above him, the ceiling opened in a perfect circle, the gray sky of the evening appeared overhead.

Harry merely floated upward, out of the hole, and landed on the ground a few feet away. Neville couldn't help himself. He laughed as he climbed his way out.

Once he'd made it out, Harry closed the hole by merely closing his fingers back into the cone shape. He peered at it once, as if making sure the Earth had cooperated with his whims, before gazing around.

A score of figures littered the horizon. No doubt still looking for them. But as far as Neville could tell the magical bombardment had ceased. Harry looked toward the figures for a moment before sliding his hand to his left wrist. He unfastened his watch, hit a button on the side of the face, and tossed it to the ground to his side a few feet away. Neville felt a small pulse of magic as it hit.

Once it hit he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a five count he let his magic flare off, purple tendrils forming around him. It was all that it took to get the attention of those out on the empty field.

The figures charged them. Neville raised his wand but Harry merely moved a step or so in front of him. As they approached, Harry yelled.

"Where's Grandpa?"

It brought the group to a halt a few feet away. They stared at him, recognition evident on their faces.

"Harry Potter?" one said.

"Where's Grindelwald?" Harry asked again.

"You aren't fit to-" one started. Harry waved his hand and the man was eviscerated without even a scream. Two of their party turned and fled, running back toward the looming citadel on the horizon. Harry let them go. Neville knew enough of his friend to know he'd intended for that reaction.

"We can do it the hard way," Harry said. Almost as soon as he'd finished the sentence Grindelwald's men started firing spells at him. They felt massive, almost explosive. For a moment he thought he could taste the magic in the air.

But as an incineration hex flashed past his face he knew he didn't have time to think about such things. He focused his attention on the fringe of their group, figuring most would focus on Harry and he might be able to pick a few off here and there.

He picked a target, raised his wand, and joined Harry Potter on the battlefield.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing I do appreciate all of the support I receive. If you wish to support me further I am available on PAT RE ON at TE7writes. The remaining chapters of this story are currently live there. As well as ten additional chapters of my other WiP - Conjurations and Catacombs

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