Things Fall Apart

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

The Second Coming, W.B. Yeats

Chapter One, Neville: Granny Flat

Neville Longbottom, he wrote. He had neat writing, and he wondered if it was important; somehow significant. He decided it probably wasn't. He liked it here, and he spent a lot of time like this. Doodling, his homework finished. He had less time for it now, though. It was his seventh year, but he was also spending more time with Ginny and Luna. Even Hermione, Ron and Harry seemed to have more to say to him. Or they did before they'd left halfway through the holidays. He wondered why that was. Why now? Probably because of what had happened at the Department of Mysteries. Same as his gran.

He'd thought his gran scolding him had been bad. The past holidays had been much worse. He'd been so brave, she'd say. Then she'd look fixedly out the window, Thinking. It was Gran, the same as she'd always been, but, he realised guiltily, without her pet improvement project. He had finally done something worthy of his parents, but it hadn't solved anything. It seemed to have just created a whole different set of problems.

He checked his watch. Almost dinner time. Slowly he packed up his things and went down to the Great Hall. It was strange, in a very very good way, with Malfoy gone. Harry would have loved it. Still. It bothered him that Malfoy was out there somewhere, alone. Harry had agreed in their short conversation about it on the train back last year, when Ron and Hermione had disappeared "to get drinks." He was glad Hermione was happy with Ron; she had always been very good to him. He wondered, though he tried not to, how long Ron and Hermione would last, but decided that, really, it was none of his business.

Hermione, Harry and Ron, of course, were not at the table, or at the school. Ginny was around somewhere, but not down yet, and Luna waved at him from the Ravenclaw table. He waved back. Dumbledore was not there. Neville felt his chest tighten as his thoughts ran to Malfoy Jr., to Malfoy Snr., and, of course, to his parents. He occasionally envied Harry his "clean break" as he called it (quietly, silently, of course), from his parents. Then he felt miserable and ungrateful, and apologetic. Of course he was glad his parents were still alive, with however slim a chance of recovery. "Impossible," said the medi -witches and -wizards, but Neville didn't listen to them, and didn't want to. His parents were very strong, in character and magically. His gran had told him so. At great length, not that hearing about his parents ever got boring, or too much. What kind of son wouldn't want to hear about his parents because they were too impressive? His gran was right to have high expectations of him, his parents deserved a son they could have been proud of. That they could be proud of. He was proud of his parents, proud of them - being injured for a noble cause. He did not resent Harry's parents hideout, but he felt, sometimes, that he ought to. To his gran, certainly, although she did not say it, love was hazy, morally speaking. Only duty and honour ranked with her. And Neville as glad, of course, that his gran had such integrity. She was a very good woman. He loved her very much.

Ginny appeared next to him,

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, NEWTs," he lied unconvincingly.

Ginny glanced up at the Head Table, then back at him, but she didn't press the point. She really was a very thoughtful person.

"So," she said, "first Hogsmeade visit next weekend. Although it'll probably be 'postponed' again," she said, making airquotes, "if not cancelled."

Neville agreed, and they ate their meal together in companionable silence, interspersed with short conversations of no interest to either of them. After dinner, Luna joined them.

"I expect you've read the latest Quibbler," she said as she approached.

"I, uh," stuttered Neville.

"No?" she asked, "well you should have. It explains all about the Snitch revolt."

"The Snitch revolt?" asked Ginny,

"Yes, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named-Although-I'm-Not-Too-Sure-Why has recruited Snitches from all around the country."

"Oh, I see," said Neville.

"Yes, but, uh, why?" asked Ginny apologetically.

"Gambling," said Luna decisively, "to raise money for the Death Eaters. A lot of them have had their assets seized."

"Oh," said Neville, "I see."

It was much harder to carry on a conversation without Hermione, Harry and Ron. He'd never really noticed how marginal they'd all been, conversationally.

"Have you, er, heard about Viktor Krum?" he asked.

"The Auror?" asked Luna, "oh, yes, isn't it marvellous?"

Ginny agreed and the lapsed again into silence. Luna did not seem to notice, or care, just kept looking around her with her wide eyes, humming quietly to herself.

Once everybody else had left the Great Hall, Headmistress McGonagall strode over to Neville and handed him a parcel. Then she left, without a word, as had become her habit. On the front of the package was written,

Open when alone!

Slightly embarrassed, Neville looked from Luna to Ginny,

"Uh," he said, "I should go and open this."

"Be careful," said Luna, "He's watching the post."

"Thanks Luna," said Neville as he withdrew to his dorm.

The dorm was empty when he got there, so he climbed onto his bed and opened the package. Inside were two letters and a smaller round package with a sticker on it that said,

Portkey. Details in letter. Emergency use only.

It was written in Hermione's neat handwriting. The first letter, addressed again in Hermione's writing said,

To Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood and Virginia Weasley.

Neville grinned a bit to himself over Virginia, Ginny would not be impressed. The second letter, however, this time addressed in Harry's writing to, Dear Ginny, was sure to impress her. He put the Portkey in his trunk and both letters in his pocket then returned to the Great Hall. There was nobody there so, after thinking for a while, Neville went to the library. Luna and Ginny were there, sitting at a table. Neville walked over to them, sat down next to Luna, and put both letters on the table in front of him. Ginny blushed slightly and put her letter in her pocket.

"Who should open it?" asked Luna.

"Well," said Ginny, "the package was addressed to Neville, so I think he should open it."

Neville grinned, picked up the letter, and opened it. He put it on the table at an angle so they could all read it, it said,

Dear Neville, Luna and Ginny, again in Hermione's handwriting,

As you know, Harry, Ron and I have been searching for the Horcrüxes. Unfortunately, no news yet, but I thought it would be useful to set up a network now, in case anything happens. And, of course, we wanted to let you all know that we are doing well. Neville, Harry wants me to wish you luck in Potions now that Professor Snape, here Harry had written, Snivellus, has gone. I agree with him and would like to remind all of you, but especially you, Neville, to work hard this year. We won't be able to write again for some time, so I shall give you our requests now.

First, please speak to Headmistress McGonagall about setting up a secure Owling service, just for our use. We have written to her as well.

Second, the Portkey. Should you hear or discover anything you think we should her immediately, the Portkey will take you within five miles of our location and will alert us to yours

Here, Ron had taken over the pen and written,

Hermione worked it all out. Brilliant, isn't it?

Neville smiled to himself.

That's all for now, we hope you are all well, then in Harry's hand,

Constant Vigilance,

Love,

Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"I hope they're okay," said Luna, honestly, as always.

"Me, too," said Ginny, looking down at the letter, then, suddenly "And Malfoy--," then more slowly, "Draco Malfoy, that is. Of course," she laughed nervously and looked up.

Neville gave her a small, awkward smile. He wondered what his parents would have thought. Probably the same as his gran, that Malfoy was a Death Eater by now. Harry, though, didn't think so. And Harry had more reason than most, though probably not all, he thought snidely, to distrust Malfoy.

"Well," said Ginny, "I guess that's that."

"Yes," said Luna, "I suppose it is."

END CHAPTER ONE