Amidst The Ashes

Neville's first impression upon waking was that he was very warm. It was a good kind of warmth, heat and comfort both and he lay still for a few moments in that place between sleep and full wakefulness. A soft sound alerted him to the fact that he was not alone and he was fully awake in an instant. Stone walls, but round? Skin. A lingering scent that made him want to smile. The kiss just below his ear and the arm which tightened around his waist reminded him of where he was, and more importantly, whom he was with.

"Charlie." The name tumbled from his lips on a sigh, half question, half exalted declaration.

"The one and only."

The words were kissed onto his neck. Neville turned onto his back, his side sliding down the warm body pressed close to him as he did so. "Morning."

Charlie's eyes were sparkling and it was clear to Neville that the other man had been awake for some time. "That it is. Hopefully a good morning."

The comment was meant to sound like an affirmation, but Neville heard a question in it. Was it possible that Charlie would be concerned about Neville's opinion of the morning, or rather of the night that had preceded it? Neville raised a hand to brush the hair out of Charlie's face. "The best morning I've ever had, at least so far."

Neville wondered briefly why he was not feeling supremely self-conscious. Dawn was peeking through the high-set windows, and he was lying, naked, with this beautiful man. Part of his brain told him that it must be a dream, and so there was no reason to feel alarmed. Another part whispered that he'd been drinking and was probably hallucinating. It was Charlie's hand on his chest, however, that spoke the loudest. It was real. He really was here. And he was more comfortable than he had ever been - safe and warm and content.

Charlie leaned forward, running the hand from his stomach upward until it cupped his cheek. "In that case, let me wish you a proper good morning." The kiss, when it came, was easy and affectionate. Neville reached up to pull him closer and they ended up in a tangle of limbs, with the redhead half-sprawled over top of him.

Charlie ticked his side and Neville laughed and squirmed ineffectively. Both were slightly aroused but there was no urgency. Neville was certain that this should be awkward, that he should not be happy to his bones; but it wasn't, and he was.

"Can we just stay here for the rest of our lives?" Neville asked, kissing the top of Charlie's head and burying his face in hair the color of sunset.

Charlie didn't get the chance to answer. Seconds later they were both sitting, startled eyes meeting. Charlie had a hand wrapped around his left ankle, while Neville was holding his right wrist. "It burned," Neville said, and now his voice was uneasy "actually burned."

"Mine too. We should hurry."

~~~~~~~

The Dark Lord, for all his insanity, had been relatively ingenious in one thing. The Dark Mark was extremely effective in calling his followers. It was with them at all times. It was immediately accessible to the leader, and it was not something that was likely to be ignored. It had other purposes, of course, that were far less benign.

Albus Dumbledore was not a squeamish man, but neither was he a monster. As the leader of the Order he needed a way to contact his members. Burning a living tattoo into them was certainly not an option. Aside from the sheer barbaric nature of it all, the Dark Mark was a neon sign that proclaimed "BAD GUY" in huge irrevocable letters.

Most individuals have some object that is always on their person - ring, watch, bracelet, or other ornament of similar ilk. Albus Dumbledore had asked each member of the Order of the Phoenix to allow him to borrow something that they wore constantly. He had then charmed these items and returned them, charging the individual to never voluntarily take them off. Thusly the members of the Order were connected to their leader, and if he needed them urgently he could summon them.

Neville's Gran was hard-nosed and pragmatic in most things. She'd had a hard life. She had been widowed young, had lost her son to madmen, and had been charged with raising a young grandson just as she entered her advancing years. She had withstood all of this with the classic determination of a matriarch of old. Nevertheless, part of her never forgot the old ways, the customs of her youth - ceremonies on dark nights and reverence to ancient things. She had made her grandson a talisman when he was very young, blessed it with protection magic and ancient incantations and woven it into a bracelet. Neville never took it off. It was this that Dumbledore had charmed when Neville was made a part of the Order on his seventeenth birthday.

Neville had been called to Dumbledore a few times in this method. In the past there had been a gentle quiver and a slight tightening. Nothing more. This morning the band had both tightened and burned. It had lasted only a second, but when Neville looked at his arm, the skin around the bracelet had been red. Charlie wore an ankle bracelet and Neville also noted a pink glow on his skin as they had both hastily threw on clothes.

Neither of them noticed that they were holding hands as they hurried down the portrait-lined corridor. The sword-making witch chirped, "Now isn't that cute?" In response Charlie brought Neville's hand to his lips and kissed it before letting him go. The witch sighed.

The gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's personal sanctum sprang back without a word as they approached. Neville looked at Charlie, apprehension tightening his chest. "Not good, Charlie." Charlie merely nodded, blue eyes concerned, and they both stepped onto the revolving staircase.

The room contained only three other people when they entered. Neville quickly surveyed the faces and moved to sit quickly near the front of the room. Charlie sat beside him. Snape looked both angry and concerned. Professor McGonagall was not sitting. She was pacing back and forth in front of Dumbledore's desk twisting and untwisting a tartan sash. It was fraying. Neville thought that he had never seen the unflappable Head of his house look so upset. When Neville finally turned his gaze on Dumbledore he noted that the wizard looked terrible - old and drawn and pale.

Neville jumped as a voice behind him spoke. "Who else are we waiting for Albus?" Remus J. Lupin had apparently been in the room all along, but Neville had not seen him. When he looked now he felt his heart drop to his shoes. Remus had the same look on his face that he'd had at the Department of Mysteries. Whatever had happened was bad, and it was also personal.

Harry!

Neville's mind tried to fly to questions of Harry but he pushed them down. If he'd been called he was here for a reason, and they would all be told what it was soon enough.

"Poppy, Remus. She should be here any moment. You understand why she might be delayed." Dumbledore's voice was calm as always, but there was no sparkle in his eyes. Neville heard a sound like a soft moan from the werewolf. Lupin walked to a chair near the desk and sat, putting his head in his hands.

Neville looked at Charlie and saw his own concerns reflected back at him. Charlie slumped a bit in his chair, spreading his legs casually and in such a fashion that one of them was now pressed hard against Neville. Neville appreciated the gesture and acknowledged it with a tight half-smile.

The door opened one last time and a very hassled and concerned-looking Madam Pomfrey scurried into the room. She said nothing, just shook her head at the Headmaster and moved to sit by Lupin.

"I believe we are all here. Severus, Minerva, please sit."

The two professors did as they'd been bidden and Dumbledore drew his wand. He traced a circle in the air above his head, creating a glowing trail of blue sparks. The Headmaster whispered words in what Neville assumed was Latin, although he did not understand them. He felt the power. An unseen force traveled outward from the sparks and then began to expand and fall, creating a luminous globe that surrounded everyone in the room. Neville felt the ground tremble and he knew, without understanding how, that the globe of light or power or whatever it was, extended beneath his feet as well. They were encircled, trapped or protected, within a glowing sphere.

"We are now, the seven of us, completely shut off from the rest of the world. There is no spell that I know of which can break through or monitor or disturb us whilst we are within this sphere. A few of you likely do not understand the reason for this, but it will be made apparent shortly. Remus, as time is of the essence, I would like you to tell us all what you told me an hour ago."

Remus stood, back bent as if he were carrying the weight of generations rather than fewer than forty years. He turned and leaned against Dumbledore's desk.

"I failed him. We failed him, and it happened again." He closed his eyes, and Dumbledore placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Remus, I know this has been a very difficult night for you. Please, just tell us the facts, without speculation or opinion, and then we can decide what to do."

Remus nodded and took a deep breath. When he looked out at the room his eyes were fierce and was obviously holding himself under tight control. Charlie stirred next to Neville

"Harry and a select number of Order members have been in training at our other Headquarters. Harry has been practicing defense and Occlumency and charms. We have also been working on strategies based on information that the Order has provided on the movements of Voldemort and various Death Eater factions. Keeping Harry out of sight was thought to be a good thing. We wanted to keep him safe."

Remus paused for a moment before continuing. Neville noted that he was staring at a fixed point some middle distance between himself and his audience. "He came to me last night, after everyone was sleeping. He was white and shaking and I could tell that he was in great pain. He'd complained of a stomach bug for a couple of days but no one seemed to think anything of it. We should have paid attention. Harry never complains."

Neville nodded. Harry never did complain. Neville had vivid memories of his housemate waking up screaming, holding his head. He remembered Quidditch accidents and Harry's recovery from a basilisk bite. Harry was a hero. He simply dealt with whatever was thrown at him. The thoughts flashed through Neville's mind in the breath between Remus's last sentence and his next.

"He told me he was ill, that he thought he might be dying, that he believed he had been poisoned. He asked me to take him to Hogwarts and to make up some excuse so as not to worry the others. Before he even finished the sentence he collapsed. I enervated him, used the secure portkey Dumbledore had given me, and we made it to this office. Harry passed out again, and this time we couldn't wake him. Dumbledore and I took him to Madam Pomfrey, where he is now." Remus didn't look at anyone in the room, he merely moved back to his chair and resumed sitting and cradling his head.

"Poppy?" Dumbledore said.

"He's no better Albus. I have him in magical stasis. I've taken blood samples. I can't wake him. At this point I don't want to try again because of the energy drain. He's very weak. I can detect no signs of external curses and no biological or viral infections. I cannot verify that he has been poisoned, but that seems to be a logical explanation." Neville noted the tension in the healer's voice. She was firm, to the point, logical as ever, but there was tension.

Dumbledore nodded. "Severus, I trust that we can count on you to look into this? Identify the poison if there is one, and find the antidote."

"It shall be done, Headmaster." Neville was surprised at the concern in Snape's voice. There were no snide remarks about the 'Boy Wonder', no digs at Lupin, merely an affirmation. Neville wondered why he was in this room. What on earth had possessed Dumbledore to include him in this elect group?

Silence fell. McGonagall twisted her scarf so tightly that it came apart in her hands. Neville could feel the tension radiating from Charlie, vibrating along the leg that pressed into his. The dream bubble had burst and they were at war again. No one spoke but Neville knew what they were all thinking. Lupin had alluded to it.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Neville said, voice firm in spite of the turmoil in his gut, "What you are telling us is that Harry Potter, arguably the best hope we have for defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has been poisoned. That he was poisoned while in a secure, hidden, Order location, and that he is very seriously ill?" Neville paused only fractionally while the Headmaster nodded.

"Brilliant observation, Longbottom. I can certainly see why the Headmaster included you in this meeting. Master of the blindingly obvious. Wonderful." Snape's voice cut through the room like a lash, but Neville did not wince.

Charlie sat up and rounded on the Potions Master, but Neville continued speaking before either of them could get another word in. "So it would seem that we need to find out who did this, why they did it, and most importantly how. As quickly as possible. May I ask where they were?"

Snape made a dark sound in his throat, but the Headmaster replied. "Yes Neville, I do believe you have described our situation very succinctly. The Order of the Phoenix resides at number 12 Grimmauld Place." Neville felt the burst of magic and realized that the address must have been protected.

"Professor," he said, rather urgently, "the location was protected by the Fidelius Charm?"

"Yes, it was. And is."

"Then someone we all trust has betrayed everyone, and we have a traitor in our midst?" Neville began speaking very fast, words tripping over themselves almost without his permission. "Who exactly knows of this place? Who has access? How long have the symptoms been visible? It is possible to come up with a time range to limit the possibilities? Can the symptoms of the poison be passed off as simply the flu, and if so do you plan to give that story to the members of the Order still at Grimmauld Place? Would it be expedient to send someone who's not been there recently to poke around a bit? I could..." Neville broke off, realizing that he had let his thoughts and his mouth run away with him. He had stepped right over all of his professors and outlined things that they would have obviously thought of. He felt foolish, but no less determined.

"Shall we defer to Longbottom, now Headmaster?" Snape oozed.

"You haven't had anything useful to add to this situation have you, Snape? Why don't you listen for once and be part of the solution rather than taking out your frustrations on the nearest target?" Charlie stood, temper flaring.

Snape stood as well, although he did so slowly. "I am part of the solution. Were you not paying attention, Weasley? Perhaps you would like to leave the cure to Longbottom? I sincerely doubt that blowing something up will cure Mr. Potter. I am certain, however, that the entire Wizarding world will attend the funeral."

"You arrogant....."

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore was not smiling and his voice was harsh and cold. Neville shivered. "You will both sit down at once and I will hear no more of this. We are on the same side. Neville's questions were neither unwelcome nor out of line. He was invited to this meeting for a reason, as were you Severus."

He paused for a moment and then smiled, although the smile did not reach his eyes as he looked at each person in turn. When he spoke again, his voice was firm and his speech hurried. "Severus, if you would please consult with Poppy and begin work at once I would be eternally grateful. Minerva, as Head of Harry's House and Deputy Headmistress you needed to be informed. I trust you shall assist Severus and Poppy in any way needed. Remus, go get some sleep. I expect to return you to Grimmauld Place with some logical explanation late this evening. Charlie and Neville, if you would be so kind as to stay, I have some things I need to discuss with you."

The room's occupants began to shuffle. "I am sure I need not remind any of you that anything and everything said in this room is to be kept in strictest confidence. Harry is in a warded hidden room, and I intend to keep his presence here a secret, in spite of Hogwarts tradition. Do you all understand?"

Every person in the room nodded as one. "That will be all. Go now, and keep me informed." Dumbledore raised his wand again and the bubble dissolved.

~~~~~~~

Charlie and Neville sat still, waiting for the others to leave, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Once the room was empty save the three of them Dumbledore reinstated his bubble.

"Neville, Charlie, there are some things that you both need to know, which is why I've asked you to stay." Dumbledore was grave. His long white beard looked limp. There was no sparkle in his eyes, no curve of his mouth. Neville found himself wishing that the man would laugh and tell them that it had been a horrible joke and offer them some outrageous sweet. It was no joke, however. They really were at war. Neville inclined his head and saw Charlie nod.

"First, Neville your deductions would seem to be correct. It would appear that there is a traitor in our midst. The number of individuals that know of Grimmauld place is relatively small." Dumbledore looked at Charlie. It was an odd look, and though Charlie did not look away Neville could feel his tension increase tenfold. Neville put his hand on Charlie's leg, not realizing he had moved until the action was complete.

The pause was short and then Dumbledore continued. "I believe I am not incorrect in stating that every member of your family knows of the place, Charlie. Every one except for Percy, I believe." Charlie's breathing altered slightly and Neville watched, dismayed, as Charlie looked away from Dumbledore and stared at the floor. He looked smaller suddenly, as though he had folded in on himself, though he had not actually moved.

Neville grew angry. It was unexpected and abrupt but he was flooded with the desire to protect Charlie, and it didn't matter that it was from Dumbledore. "I don't like what you seem to be implying Professor." Neville's voice was cold, and he met blue eyes without flinching when they turned to him.

Dumbledore held up his hand and Neville found his words caught in his throat. "Neville, I would love to hear all comments presently, but I am not yet finished. I must ask you both not to speak except to answer questions until I have told you all that I need to."

It was not a request. Neville tried to argue, but found that he could not. Dumbledore met his eyes, and there was understanding there, but Neville had little use for it just now.

"I can see that the two of you have grown quite close recently. I trust that I am not incorrect in that observation?"

This was a question, and Neville's voice was once more his own. Charlie still looked at the floor. "Even if that is true I fail to see how it is any of your business." Neville actually felt it when Charlie dragged startled eyes away from the rug to fasten upon Neville. He felt it, but he did not look away from Dumbledore.

"Neville, I'm not trying to be intrusive. I simply have something that I need to tell you, something secret and intimately personal. I then have something to ask Charlie which is equally delicate. Do either of you object to the other being here?"

"No." Their voices spoke in unison, and Charlie covered Neville's hand with his own.

"Very good. That will do to be getting on with. If you would be so kind at to wait one moment." Dumbledore leaned down and opened a drawer, drawing out a stone bowl.

Neville had never actually seen a Pensieve before, but he recognized it for what it was. He looked at Charlie, who squeezed his hand. He found that he was less worried and less angry simply from the touch of Charlie's fingers, the caress of his glance.

"You, Neville, accompanied several of your friends to the Department of Mysteries in your fifth year, there to retrieve a prophecy."

Shame. There was no accusation in Dumbledore's voice, but Neville would never forget that it was his own fault that the prophecy had been lost, the sphere broken. He had kicked it. He had made the sacrifice of Harry's Godfather pointless. He had ended the quest that resulted in loss and injury and horror. My fault, my fault, all my fault.

Dumbledore continued speaking, but Neville only paid scant attention. Charlie's fingers tightened on his own, but that was peripheral. My fault. My fault. Should have known better than to involve myself in important things. Should never have poked my nose into things that mattered. I'm not the hero type.

"Neville!" Dumbledore's voice cut through the fog of his thoughts like a beacon.

He looked up, expecting to see anger or judgment and saw what looked like sorrow instead.

"I apologize, my boy. I see now that I should have told you as well, long ago."

Neville had no idea what he was talking about but listened as Dumbledore continued to speak.

"There was another copy of that prophecy, one in my possession. I have shown it to Harry alone, though I feel certain that he shared it with Ron and Hermione. I want to show it to you now."

Dumbledore tapped the bowl and a figure rose from it, and spoke. The prophecy unfolded before them, but it meant little to Neville. So Harry was destined to kill Voldemort. It seemed ridiculous that they had risked and lost so much for something that was blatantly obvious. He had no idea what the point of this was - unless Dumbledore was trying to prove that there was no point to anything. They had things to be getting on with. Harry was dying. Was Dumbledore trying to tell them that all was lost?

"I don't understand," Neville said at last when the silence had lengthened beyond endurance. "What has any of this to do with the present situation? We need Harry or everyone dies. I know that. Everyone knows that."

"Neville, there were two boys born 'as the seventh month dies'. Two boys whose parents had 'thrice defied him'. Two boys the prophecy might have referred to."

Dumbledore's eyes held his own steadily, as if he wished to force knowledge upon him, to make him see something.

"But, Professor, I was never 'marked' as his peer or equal or whatever that said. My parents fell." His voice shook slightly. "And no one in their right mind would ever accuse me of having 'power he knows not'. Of having power at all."

"No, Neville you were not marked. You have no visible scar. Everyone assumed that the prophecy referred to Harry. I had always thought so myself."

"Not all scars are visible, Albus." Charlie spoke for the first time since the room had emptied and Neville jumped.

Neville was speechless. Dumbledore couldn't possibly think that he..... And Charlie was backing him up? It wasn't possible. He was no hero. He was barely a wizard.

"I agree, and the thought has been growing for a while that it is unwise to ignore any of our options. This war must be won. The current situation has forced my hand. I have full confidence that we will find a way to restore Harry, but should we not do so..."

Charlie interrupted. "You cannot be serious! You cannot honestly plan to use Neville as a weapon? No disrespect, sir, but Harry knows that's what he is - a tool, a strategy. He even agrees. He feels like it's his 'calling' his 'destiny'. We have, all of us, looked to him as Savior. Now you want to demand that Neville..."

"It will be his choice, Charlie. I will not use him as anything."

Neville's thoughts had been swirling fast. He really had no choice. He knew beyond doubt that he had no power to speak of, that he would likely die if he went up against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but he was honor bound to do what he could. He would have done so anyway. The argument continued.

"Bullshit! Just by bringing this up you have ...."

"Charlie!" The other man had let go of Neville when he began speaking, using his hands to talk as he always did. Neville now put a hand on Charlie's arm pulling him back a little, and waiting until he turned to look at him. Neville smiled at Charlie, a sad, pained smile, before turning to look at Dumbledore.

"Tell me what you want me to do."

Dumbledore beamed and it almost seemed that the sparkle was back. "Nothing right now, at least nothing overt. You mentioned having someone look around? I think that is an excellent idea. I'd like you to accompany Professor Lupin back to Grimmauld Place. We will come up with a reason, but I'd like to have you poke about a bit. It also behooves us to have you apprised, subtly, of the plans of the Order. You may be our next best hope, should things not turn out as we desire."

Charlie bristled, but Neville squeezed his arm and nodded at the Headmaster. "Of course, anything I can I do."

"Neville, you are unique in your own way. Yours, as I mentioned in your first year, is very rare brand of courage. You will need that courage now. Use the fact that people underestimate you to your advantage. Lupin can protect you, but more importantly I believe that you can protect yourself."

"If there is a traitor and that person suspects him, then Neville will be a sitting duck. If they were willing to poison Harry Potter..." Charlie let the sentence fall unfinished, but he placed his own hand over the one Neville had on his shoulder and drew it down so that he was holding it between both of his own.

Dumbledore sighed and turned his attention to the second Weasley child. "That is where you come in Charlie. What I have to ask of you is more difficult. The list of Order members who knew of Grimmauld Place before today is small - myself, Harry, Tonks, Shacklebolt, Snape, Moody, Hermione, Lupin, and eight of the nine members of your family."

Charlie swallowed. Neville watched his throat constrict and he hurt for him.

"I know you love most of these people, Charlie. They love you. They trust you. There is a lot at stake. The lives of us all, including those of everyone you hold dear. Bill alone among your siblings has not been to Grimmauld Place in over a month. He is in London, as I'm sure you are aware, working on curse creation. Go to London. Offer to help Bill. Spend a lot of time at home. Drop by Grimmauld Place from time to time. Poke around with those you know. Bring me some options."

Charlie said nothing. Neville had watched as Charlie's face paled, causing the freckles to stand out. He looked sick and gray and injured, and it pained Neville to see Charlie hurt.

"Professor," Neville said urgently, "surely you cannot suspect the Weaselys. They love Harry. And even if you do how can you expect Charlie to spy on his own family? How can you ask him to betray the people he loves? There is surely something else he could do, some other task that..."

"Neville?" Charlie gripped his hand hard and demanded his attention. "I know you understand." Blue eyes turned to the Headmaster. "I'll do whatever I have to do."

The next half an hour was spent in devising a plan. It was decided that Neville would take samples of the rare potion plants to Grimmauld Place ostensively to provide them with another secure supply location. Charlie would go to London but stay in his old room at home.

"You may go now, gather what you need. Charlie, you may leave for London whenever you are ready. Neville please meet me back here at 8:00 p.m. Both of you, make whatever preparations you feel necessary."

Neville heard Say your goodbyes in the subtext of that sentence. Neither of them spoke as the bubble dissolved and they stepped onto the staircase, leaving Dumbledore behind.