Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness, page 14
They were just launching into the second chorus when a hand plucked at his robes. Grinning, Neville looked down to see a hunched figure wrapped in a ragged cloak reaching for him out of the doorway of a boarded-up shop. These unfortunates had become a not-uncommon sight that summer since the Ministry crackdown on Muggle-Borns had begun, and Neville gave the beggar a sympathetic look as he dug in his pocket. "Poor bloke." His voice sounded slightly slurred as he pulled out a Galleon, barely remembering to give it a second look to ensure it was genuine. "Here. Best luck t'ya. Things'll be better soon 'nuff."
"Why, Neville Longbottom, I do suspect that you are intoxicated." The hooded face raised, and Neville was shocked to see the familiar dark eyes of Lee Jordan sparkling up at him in amusement.
"Lee!" Ernie yelped.
Lee pulled back further into the doorway, glancing around in alarm as he waved a hand furiously at the two. "Shhh! You idiot, don't yell my blasted name unless you want every Death Eater in Hogsmeade down on us!"
Casting a quick look around himself to ensure that they were still alone in the alley, Neville crouched, frowning. "Whatcha doin' here if they're lookin' for you?"
"Hoping to find someone like you. The twins and I have started an underground wireless thing, we're calling it Potterwatch." His voice was barely above a whisper, and Neville had to strain to hear him over the noise from the nearby pub. "They nearly got us last time - we managed to Apparate just as they blasted the door in, but I splinched myself something wicked, and I've got to find somewhere to lie low for a while." He drew back the filthy, ragged robes, and Neville recoiled when he saw that Lee's entire calf was gone, the unnaturally narrow remains of his leg wrapped in a makeshift bandage that was dark with dried blood.
"Can you walk?" Ernie seemed to have entirely shaken off the affects of the mead, and his voice was steady, if deeply concerned as he drew his wand and looked around them.
"No. I Apparated to the Lupins' place at first. They bandaged me up, stopped the bleeding, and Remus let me borrow these so I could seem like just another beggar, but I couldn't stay there. They're gonna be having a baby, and I'd never forgive myself if I brought Death Eaters to their door. But I'm...." He hesitated, swallowing back his pride as he looked up at them again. "I'm in pretty bad shape. I've been here since Thursday. I knew it was a Hogsmeade weekend, so I took my chances, but I've been sleeping here in the doorway, and Madame Rosmerta gives me something after they close, but that means one meal a day and freezing my bum off at night. I could eat a Hippogriff."
Neville noticed for the first time the ashen tinge to the older youth's dark skin, how sunken his eyes and cheeks looked, and the warm, giddy feeling seemed to retreat into a vague dizziness and a certain amount of uncoordination in the way his limbs responded. "Don't worry. We'll help you." Even as he said it, he wasn't sure how, but he knew that leaving their old friend and fellow resistance fighter lying wounded in a doorway was not an option.
The door to the Three Broomsticks opened, and all three froze. A tall, blonde man in Death Eater's robes was standing in the doorway, silhouetted in the warm light that spilled out into the rapidly darkening evening as he ogled one of the pretty witches who helped Madame Rosmerta serve drinks. "C'Mon, darlin'," he leered, "get yerself in good with the folks whats got power these days...jes askin' ye ta come fer a little walk...lovely night 'n all...."
Lee seemed to have vanished entirely into the shadows, and before Neville knew what was happening, Ernie had kicked him in the back of the knees, knocking him forward onto all fours on the cobblestones. Neville's head reeled, he tried to regain his bearings, but then Ernie had one arm wrapped around his shoulders, his wand poking into Neville's neck. "Emeticus!"
Neville threw up. Spectacularly. He had never been so violently sick in his life, his entire body convulsing in great heaves as he splattered sick across half the alley. The Death Eater looked over at the sound, and as he continued to vomit uncontrollably, he could hear Ernie's voice call out apologetically from over him. "Sorry about this, my dear sir, but my companion has overindulged a bit. You might wish to take your constitutional in another direction."
"T'hell, ye say?" The blonde Death Eater frowned in confusion.
"My mate got pissed, now he's sick as a dog. Best walk the other way."
With a disgusted grimace, the Death Eater closed the door, and the wand jabbed into his neck again. "Finite Incantatem."
Shaking, Neville got to his feet, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robes as he gave Ernie the filthiest glare he could manage. "That -" he stepped carefully around a puddle of sick and poked his friend harshly in the chest, "--was not very nice."
Ernie shrugged and gave an embarrassed little smile. "Best I could think of at the moments notice, old chum."
Lee slid forward again from the shadow of the doorway, pushing away a long dreadlock that had fallen over his face under the hood. "You guys are going to get in trouble. I never should have -"
"I meant it that we're going to help you. I've got a plan, and it doesn't --" he shot another pointed glare at the burly Hufflepuff, "-- involve making anyone puke." Casting another quick glance at the door of the Three Broomsticks to ensure it was still closed, Neville turned towards the empty alley and called out towards what appeared to his companions to be thin air. "Mimsy!"
There was only a moment's hesitation, then with a loud crack, a house-elf stood in the little alley in front of them. She was as tiny as most of her race, plump and prim-looking, with a little web of wrinkles around her large hazel eyes and a doily of elaborately tatted lace wrapped around her like a toga, fastened at one shoulder with an immense brooch of paste gems. She curtsied deeply, not apparently fazed by finding herself in a sick-spattered alley outside a pub in Hogsmeade. "Master called?"
"Mimsy, I want you to meet Ernie Macmillan and Lee Jordan." He gestured to the two baffled-looking young wizards. "Guys, this is Mimsy, my Gran's house-elf."
"Mistress," Mimsy gave a rather disapproving sniff, "wishes Master Neville to know that she has been most worried about him. Letters from his school saying he has been very, very naughty. Mistress says if Master Neville does not write soon, she will begin sending Howlers again, and Mimsy thinks this might be embarrassing now that Master Neville is supposed to be a grown wizard."
Neville blushed and shuffled his feet. The elf, like his grandmother, had an amazing ability to make him feel perpetually as though he were six years old. "Tell Gran I'll write, I promise," he muttered.
"Mistress," the little house-elf addressed his companions with an air of infinite long-suffering patience, "puts up with much from Master Neville, but he tries to be a good boy, Merlin knows."
Lee was trying not entirely successfully to stifle giggles, and Neville felt immensely satisfied when Mimsy silenced him with one of the looks he had spent his entire childhood attempting to avoid. Taking a deep breath, he forced a somber expression onto his own face as he turned back to her. "Mimsy, tell Gran that I will be sending someone to her. His name is Lee Jordan. He looks like a beggar, but he's in disguise. He's a friend of Harry Potter and the Weasley family, and my friend too. Tell her that he's been splinched badly, and he needs help and food and a place to hide until he's strong enough to go on his way. He's being hunted by Death Eaters, so you'll have to be very careful."
Mimsy gave another low curtsy. "Mistress will be happy to help the friends of Harry Potter do anything against those nasty Death Eaters. Lee Jordan will have food and the best care and a nice bed and..." she wrinkled her button-like nose, "most certainly a hot bath as soon as possible, because Master Neville's friend does not smell very good."
Lee shrugged, grinning white in the gathering dark. "Hey, you try living in a doorway for three days wearing something Remus Lupin had consigned to the rag bag."
To his shock, Mimsy swatted him swiftly upside the head, and Neville barely managed to stifle a giggle. "Mistress will not take cheek, and neither will Mimsy! Lee Jordan smells bad, and Lee Jordan will be washed and fed, and he will be grateful!"
"I'm sure he will, Mimsy," Neville said solemnly. "Thank you, and send Gran my love. Tell her I'm fine."
"Yes, Master Neville." With another deep curtsy, Mimsy took the collar of Lee's robes in the very tips of her fingers, then there was another loud crack, and Ernie and Neville were alone in the alley again.
When they finally made it back up to Hogwarts Castle, it was long past full dark, and they knew that had missed the time they were meant to have returned by several hours. It was therefore no surprise when the double doors opened to reveal the menacing figure of Professor Snape backlit against the warm candlelight in the entry hall behind him.
They exchanged a quick look, and Neville slung an arm around Ernie's shoulders again, leaning into him sloppily. "I think our best bet is to play it like we're still toasted," he whispered, "then at least he won't think we were up to anything else." Ernie nodded, his own gait becoming more unsteady as they approached the castle and the silent, black outline that awaited them there.
"Where," the question was asked with a deadly calm, "have you gentlemen been for the past two hours?"
Neville did not hesitate as he swaggered up the steps directly towards the Headmaster, his arm still around Ernie's shoulders as they stopped on the landing, swaying slightly. He looked up at Snape with complete innocence painted over every feature, slurring his words deliberately. "Cel'bratin'."
"Celebrating what, if I may ask?"
"That whippin' us haff dead don' seem'tve made yer life 'ny eeshyer." Neville replied with a broad, insolent grin.
Two red spots appeared high on Snape's sallow cheeks as his black eyes flashed in fury, and Neville's grin widened as he jabbed his own wand unseen into Ernie's ribs beneath his robes and thought Emeticus!
Ernie's aim was beautiful.
OOO
It was almost midnight by the time Neville climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, but he had scarcely taken a few steps when a small, redheaded figure leapt up from one of the armchairs near the fireplace and streaked towards him. Ginny hit him at a full sprint, leaping up and flinging her arms around his neck in an enormous hug. "Neville!"
He staggered backwards, hitting the wall as the breath was driven out of him, but she had wrapped herself around him like Devil's Snare, her legs clamped tightly around his waist, and he couldn't help but chuckle as he reached up and tried to pry her hands apart. "Missed me that much?"
"You ass, hardly." Her words were muffled against his neck, but the relief in her tone was still clear. "I was worried sick about you. I heard what happened." She sniffed deeply, then planted both hands on his chest and hopped off of him, pushing him to arm's length as she made a face. "I guess it's true, then. You smell like our back shed the first time Lee and the twins got a hold of a bottle of firewhisky."
"Yeah, it's true. Ernie got Snape pretty good." He grinned, savoring the memory. "You should have seen the look on his face, Ginny. I can die happy."
"We thought you might." Her expression had become somber, and her voice softened. "There's nobody here but me, Neville, you don't have to play brave. McGonagall made everyone go to bed at ten like the Carrows ordered, but she knows I'm your second, so she happened to miss me curled up in the chair. What did they do to you?"
He shrugged. "It wasn't that bad, honest. They let Crabbe and Goyle have a go at us with the Cruciatus, and that wasn't a lot of fun, sure, but I don't think Malfoy left them instructions on how to think for themselves, and their hearts weren't really in it because they thought what Ernie did was pretty funny, too. Beyond that...." Neville raised a hand, ticking off the elements of their punishment on his fingers. "Had to clean up the steps without magic, no Halloween feast, notice to all the barkeeps in Hogsmeade that we're banned from drinking for the rest of the academic year, no Hogsmeade at all tomorrow, and Ernie and I aren't allowed to see each other outside of classes any more, but that's not a big deal considering the D.A.."
Ginny seemed to consider it for a moment, then smiled. "You're right, it isn't that bad." She punched him in the ribs, and Neville had to stop himself from wincing. For a girl, she hit pretty hard. "That's for making me worry!"
"If that's for making you worry," he rubbed at the spot with a look of mock agony, "I feel sorry for Harry when he gets back."
"Oh, I've already decided what I'm going to do to him," she nodded.
"And what's that?"
"Kiss him until he can die happy, then kill him."
"Sounds like a good plan to me." Neville took off his outer robe and dropped it in a pile on the floor, settling himself into one of the overstuffed armchairs. "But from what I've heard, I'm not the only one who got in trouble today. Snape said you got yourself banned from Hogsmeade altogether, but he didn't say why."
"I didn't do anything nearly as dramatic as you two." She sprawled out upside-down on the couch across from him, her bare feet dangling over the back. "Actually, they couldn't prove I'd done anything wrong, so that's why I just got the ban."
"So what was it?"
"Travers -- he's one of the Death Eaters -- caught me at the Post Office getting a package. They searched it and didn't find anything illegal. It was a new scarf, a batch of homemade cauldron cakes, a letter from my mother and a couple of underthings...but they were really suspicious because it was addressed to Virginia Weasley at the Hogsmeade Post Office," Ginny explained.
Neville frowned. "I thought your name was Ginevra."
"It is. He guessed rightly that it was addressed like that to avoid getting to me at Hogwarts where it would be really searched, but everyone in Hogsmeade has just known me as Ginny since I was tiny, so they let me pick it up...well, for a couple of minutes before Travers confiscated it."
She flipped over and made a truly pathetic face, her lower lip trembling as her large brown eyes welled with tears. "Oh, please, sir, I'm so sorry...my Mummy thought they weren't letting us get packages any more, and everything's so scary right now, I miss her so much... I just wanted a few eensy little things from home." Burying her face in her hands, she burst into loud, wailing sobs, then looked up, grinning and abruptly dry-eyed. "Worked like a charm. He gave me back the box as soon as he'd finished searching it. Even apologized. Snape didn't believe it of course, and he confiscated it for good, but I had what I wanted by then."
"Which was?" Neville leaned forward eagerly, then looked away as Ginny reached under her pajama shirt and seemed to be about to remove her bra. "Ginny!"
"Witches leave each other's personal things alone, and a wizard wouldn't know where to look." She squirmed around another moment, then pulled out two small, cloth-wrapped bundles and set them on the low table in front of the fire. They unfolded as she pulled her hand away, revealing several dozen miniscule but brightly colored boxes and parcels, the largest of them no bigger than a postage stamp. Ginny drew her wand and tapped the little pile. "Engorgio."
The pile abruptly expanded to cover the entire table, several parcels that were now easily two feet square tumbling off the sides and onto the floor. Each bore the 'W' of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and she motioned proudly at them. "Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, Guaranteed Gripping Gloves, Skiving Snackboxes, Shield Shirts in four sizes, two Deflagration Deluxe packs, Decoy Detonators, Garbling Gum, Daydream Charms, a Portable Portal, Tranquilizing Teacups, U-No-Poo, Edible Dark Marks, Coding Quills, Love Potions in both standard Crush formula and Extra-Strength Infatuation, Imperceptible Ink - oh, yeah, and some Pygmy Puff treats for Arnold."
Neville let out a low whistle and shook his head slowly in amazement. "Remind me never to mess with your family."
"I'd think," she giggled, "you'd have learned that before now. But seriously -" She reached down and scooped the fallen parcels onto the larger heap. "--some of this stuff should help us figure out the last couple of things we were having trouble with for the mission. I figure one more meeting, and we should be ready to go, don't you think?"
"Probably," he nodded. "I'll call it for Monday, and if everything goes right, we should be ready to strike on Wednesday."
"Good." Ginny shuddered. "The waiting's almost worse than the idea of the actual mission at this point. I just want it over with, you know?"
"As long as we don't let ourselves get sloppy," he cautioned.
"Then you'd better make sure your forbidden friend is paying attention." She gave a sigh that was equal parts disgust and exasperation. "If I have to sit through one more meeting watching him and Susan try to crawl down each other's throats, I think I'll throw up."
Neville kicked off his shoes and picked up a box of Guaranteed Gripping Gloves, turning them over slowly to read the information on the side of the label as he spoke, trying to keep his tone casual. "He's planning to ask her to marry him. If she says yes, they're doing it over Christmas break."
"He's WHAT?" Ginny sat bolt upright, her cheeks flushing as bright as her hair. "They're barely of age!"
"I know." He shrugged. "But he's afraid they won't have a lot of time, what with what's coming at the end of the year. He said he'd rather they both live to be able to change their minds than to have one of them survive with the regret. There's kind of a point there, really."
She frowned. "But what will the Carrows -"
"They're not telling the Carrows."
"They might as well tell them the moment they put in to the Ministry for a Marriage License," she pointed out derisively.
Neville gave a sheepish little smile. "Well, that's kind of where your father comes in, we're hoping."
Ginny's scowl deepened. "We?"
"I'm his Best Man."
"And the part," she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, "where Dad has something to do with this?"
