Amidst The Ashes

Chapter 9

Dear Neville,

My initial response to your letter was indecision. I couldn't decide whether I wanted to shake you or kiss you senseless. Had you been present I might have done both; definitely the latter at any rate. 1) I'm not embarrassed. I am not embarrassed by you, by inferences about my relationship with you, nor by the fact that you were wearing my clothes. I'm a bit embarrassed that my family made you uncomfortable, but I grew up with Fred and George (and Mum) so I've learned to live with that. Where did you think they got their sense of humor? 2) Yes, she made the jumper. 3) Hang on to it for a while. I like the fact that you have something tangible of mine with you. Call me sentimental if you will. We spoke a lot yesterday and I had hoped that you understood. I don't give away my secrets lightly. I didn't tell you that I loved you on a whim. I'm not planning to change my mind. I'm also blatantly refusing to consider that you may have had second thoughts. I know this is new, Nev. You can tell anyone you want, or no one if you choose. My family would have figured it out anyway the minute they saw us together. Bill took one look at my face when I got to London and asked me for a name. Take care of yourself, Nev, and try not to worry. I'll see you when I can. Until then,

All my love,
Charlie

A huge grin split Neville's face, and he traced the words softly with his finger. He read the closing statement again. "All my love, Charlie." And you, Charlie, have all of mine.

Neville picked up an incorrectly titled book, plopped himself down in a formerly fine chair and, with a bit of a smile, put his feet on the table. He decided that no one would see him, and the position eased the strange crick in his back.

After two hours of pouring over alternately fascinating and deadly dull material he set the book aside with a sigh. Neville could now, given appropriate timing, poison any one of his relatives. The book, which now sported dripping green letters instead of red ones, was a cross between an examination of conspiracy theories and a how-to on transporting toxins. He wondered if Mad-Eye Moody had read this book before resorting to his hip flask. At this thought Neville shivered. He had no wish to remember fourth year and the subsequent revelations about one fake-Moody.

Neville stood, cracked his back, winced as the pain moved back to his stomach, and changed into his pajamas. He rarely got stiff from gardening. Perhaps the height of the beds was just different enough to cause him to use his muscles in unaccustomed ways.

The parchment scroll caught his eye again as he crossed the room to his bed. He picked up the letter and held it close to his face. He inhaled... ink and parchment only. It didn't matter. A bit of Charlie was in that latter. "I didn't tell you that I loved you on a whim. All my love..."

The mantra repeated in Neville's head as he lay down, covered himself and doused the light. "All my love, all my love, all my love, allmylove." Neville fell asleep to the memory of Charlie's voice and the imagined sound of those words.

~~~~~~~

By 9:00 a.m. the next morning Neville was back in the conservatory. Two hours' work and every potion plant had been appropriately replanted. All that remained was the strange blue vine from Charlie's mountain. Neville cleared a space at the far end of one clean bed and gently placed it in the ground.

The leaves were nearly diamond-shaped, with rounded points - deep blue with veins of deeper indigo tracing light patterns on their surface, and darker ones on the undersides. Neville spent far more time fussing over this re-planting than was strictly necessary. He ran his fingers over the leaves time and again, marveling at how silky and smooth they were, and thinking of Charlie and mountains and this vine with its leaves the exact color of Charlie's eyes.

The Gran voice reprimanded him when he broke off a leaf and put it in the pocket of his jeans. He rubbed his thumb absently over it. I wonder if it has a name. I'd call it Dragonseye, although I'd have a hard time finding a scientific reason for it.

~~~~~~~

The most insidious toxins are those which manifest with a variety of subtle symptoms and build up over time. A victim is less likely to take serious note of an odd pain, a traveling and fleeting hurt. Small amounts of poison, ingested over time and building in intensity have been know to be hard to combat effectively.

The Black library did, in fact, have quite an extensive section on devious methods of disposing of an enemy. Neville looked up sharply, pulling a large folio filled with pictures of various flowers over the book on poisons. The door had been thrown open.

Neville paled a bit when Professor Snape stalked into the room. Did the man ever merely walk? Was he capable of moving like an ordinary human being?

"Longbottom, what an unpleasant surprise. I don't suppose you have any idea where Lupin is?" His voice matched the sneer on his face.

"Sir," Neville said, not rising to his feet even though he knew full well that that would be the proper reaction. "He ate lunch with Ron and me and then mentioned something about reading in his room."

Snape's eyes narrowed. Neville knew that his words had been polite, although his tone and stature had not been. "I don't suppose you have managed to accomplish anything?"

Neville rose to his feet at last. "If you would accompany me, Sir, I will show you to the conservatory." Neville picked up his books, shoved them onto a shelf and left the room. He did not look back to see if Snape was following him, although he knew that he was.

The journey to the conservatory was silent. Neville did not speak until they were standing in front of the newly planted beds. He stepped to one side to allow Snape an unobstructed view. "So?" he asked.

Snape moved to stand next to the looctresni . "It is still fragile." Snape turned to look directly at Neville, and Neville knew that they were not talking about the plant.

"I've done what I can. So far I haven't found the solution required to make it thrive."

Snape nodded. There was something in those dark eyes that Neville had never seen before. It struck him all in an instant. He had never had the courage to meet those eyes so directly before. He saw much in them - worry and disdain and a studied blankness. He also saw what could be mistaken for the barest hint of respect.

"Madam Sprout has informed me that she thinks her sample has less than a week left to live. She does not seem to have your touch. You do realize how vital this particular ingredient is. To everything?" Snape's voice was entirely flat, but his eyes spoke.

Neville swallowed hard, blinking his own eyes quickly. "I understand, Professor. I'll exert every effort to find a solution for Madam Sprout. I have several ideas." Neville was pleased that his own voice was steady, even if the tone was a bit lower than normal.

Snape nodded. He then did two things that left Neville gaping as the man swirled and left the room. Snape placed a firm hand on Neville's shoulder, and said, "Good enough, Mr. Longbottom."

~~~~~~~

Neville took one last look at his plants, fussing here and restoring a charm there, before returning to the library. He spent the next several hours reading. Neville finished
his book, and then moved to his room.

He drew parchment and quill from his bag and flipped open his ink. Ron had been talkative at lunch. Remus had eaten quickly, leaving the other two alone for the remainder of the repast. Neville had learned that his red-headed friend had been attending auror classes in an attempt to improve his defensive skills. Harry had been doing this as well, apparently, and Ron was concerned about the reason Harry had left so unexpectedly. Ron talked about his brothers, about Hermione, about the Order, about how much he missed Quiddtich. Ron, more than anyone that Neville had spoken with since war began in earnest, was the least changed. He showed his every emotion on his face. Every thought was mirrored in his eyes before it made it to speech. He was either exactly what he seemed, or he was the best actor Neville had ever encountered.

With information gleaned from this informative conversation, Neville made a list of every person who had entered Grimmauld Place in the past thirty days. The list very nearly mirrored that given by Dumbledore. However, according to Ron, Kingsley Shacklebolt had not been to the house since the trio arrived. Neville wrote Kingsley's name on the list anyway - last. There were three additional people who knew of Grimmauld Place, although none had been there. He wrote the names Charlie, Bill, and Neville on the list, just to be thorough. His hand shook as he wrote Charlie's name and he put a black line through it. He also placed one through his own. At this point Neville would put no one else above suspicion, not even Dumbledore. Neville fingered the leaf in his pocket

He added three additional columns and titled them: Means, Opportunity, Motive. He wrote for a long time, filling in possibilities, wild thoughts, ideas and speculation. He wrote down everything he could think of, no matter how outlandish, filling spare parchment as he went. He chewed on his quill and thought about the individuals that were currently in the house.

Molly Weasley cooked whenever she was at Grimmauld Place. She would certainly have opportunity. Neville could not imagine her harming someone she obviously considered a son, however, and he thought her unlikely.

Hermione Granger was Muggleborn. Surely that reason alone should rule her out, regardless of her longstanding friendship with Harry. Still, she was constantly with him and, perhaps more than anyone other than Snape, she was clever enough to create and carry out a plot. Neville shook his head, it couldn't be possible.

Ron? Ron loved Harry like a brother. Ron was terrible at potions and was about as subtle as a dragon in a pasture full of sheep. Still, Neville supposed the he had opportunity. If you reached far enough one might consider the whole "always in Harry's shadow" thing as a possible motive, but Neville had not seen Ron act that way in years.

Remus Lupin. Remus was certainly unafraid of causing harm. He had the ability to be cruel, even deadly, but Remus loved Harry. Remus brought Harry to Hogwarts. Remus was looking worse every day, worried sick about the boy that was his only remaining tie to his friends. Nevertheless, Neville admitted that of all of them, Remus was the one that he knew the least about.

It was impossible. Everyone had opportunity. Anyone could have means. But they all loved Harry. It made no sense. None.

Neville was running a frustrated hand through his hair, yet again, when Lupin knocked on the door and told him that dinner would be ready in five minutes.

"Alright, I'll be right down Remus. Thank you," Neville called. He read his list entirely - speculations, names, motives, mad theories - and then he placed the parchment into the black dish and burned it. He would take no chances. None at all.

~~~~~~~

"Obviously this is not a meeting of the entire Order. We are spread very thin, and I cannot currently afford to have everyone join us. Voldemort," Neville watched as half the room, himself included, winced at Dumbledore's use of the name, "has increased his attacks on the families of Muggleborn students." Neville looked at Hermione. He was not alone in doing so. Hermione looked straight ahead.

Dumbledore went on for a few minutes, detailing various attacks. Neville had actually taken part in either defense or clean up of several of them and so he allowed his eyes and his mind to wander a bit. The only people who had joined those already at the Black House were Snape and Dumbledore. Dumbledore had, however, mentioned that another might be joining them later.

Neville had stationed himself in the corner, to the left and slightly to the side of where Dumbledore stood. From this vantage he could see the face of nearly everyone present, and he could do this while simultaneously appearing to look at Dumbledore. He watched for signs of stress at unreasonable points, or for any other emotion that might seem unfitting. Right, as if you have the ability to recognize such things. You've never been all that observant, Neville. With force of will he brushed those thoughts aside and continued to both listen and observe.

"We have decided to give charge of several muggleborn families to each group not currently involved in active combat or other prohibitive duties. To that end, those at Grimmauld Place - this will include any who happen to be here at the time an alarm goes off - will be given charge of responding to calls from the following families." Dumbledore proceeded to read the names of four families - two that Neville recognized and two that he did not. "Each family has the ability to set off a type of alarm should they encounter trouble. Remember, stay in pairs and apparate to the designated spots. Please refer to this list." Dumbledore handed a sheet of parchment to Remus who scanned it and passed it to Molly.

~~~~~~~~

Neville woke, covered in cold sweat, terrified. It was very dark and the old house was never silent. It creaked and moaned. The walls hummed with the memory of ugly things. Neville sat, blankets pooled around his waist, and listened for a sound that was more foreign, for the sound of animate malice in the midst of the inanimate.

There was nothing. Neville's heart rate slowly dropped and he shut his eyes to keep from crying. As the adrenaline left his system, he began to shake. What on earth had he been dreaming?

Neville tried to focus on something else. He drew up pictures of sunlight, lying in Charlie's arms as a spring breeze played with his hair. The picture wouldn't stay. Charlie morphed, eyes turning cruel as the sky darkened.

"Of course I don't actually love you. No one ever will. No one will notice if you vanish. Your so-called friends see you for what you are, a burden, and so do I."

Neville opened his eyes. "No." He spoke to the house, very softly but firmly. "I'll not let the nightmares make me doubt him, too." Neville reached for his wand and whispered a shaky Lumos. He was convinced that there would be no more sleeping tonight. Shuffling over to the chair in the corner, he only just managing to stop himself from looking under the bed.

It had been seeing Moody, of course, that had brought him demon dreams and crushing sadness. He'd nearly stopped breathing at the sight of that rolling eye, the thump-drag sound of a wooden leg. Crucio and deceit and death. He remembered false kindness and harsh words.

The meeting had been nearly over, and everyone was standing. Neville had stepped back into the corner and waited as others greeted the old auror. He'd been polite. He'd left unnoticed.

The words swam before his eyes as he read, for the third time, the same paragraph in one of the books Charlie had transfigured. Charlie.

Neville slogged slowly through yet another chapter of toxicological mumbo jumbo before he gave it up. It must be 4:00 in the morning, the darkest part of the night. ...less than a week left to live. He was no closer to anything concrete than he had been before he left Hogwarts.

Neville thought about Moony and Molly, Hermione and Ron. Less than a week, Neville, and you have done nothing. Will Harry ever wake? If he doesn't we're all doomed. What were they thinking sending you? Realizing that it was ridiculous to argue with himself, Neville nonetheless continued his internal dialogue. I will find something. I will unravel this puzzle. He went over reasons for suspicion again, feeling hopelessly confused. So many possibilities, each less probable than the other. He wondered again why on earth he'd ever thought he was capable of grand things.

He had done so in part because of that morning - waking up with Charlie. He'd felt nearly invincible that day. Neville closed his eyes and thought once more about mountains and talking hat stands and soft kisses. The memory of Charlie's words washed over him - snatches of conversation and bits of letters. "Don't you know who you are? He's diligent and courageous and talented... I don't want you hurt. You can. You will. ......all my love." Harry lay dying and Neville was in love. He should feel guilty, but could not bring himself to do so. Instead, he merely felt hopelessly sad.

Neville jumped as the house shuddered beneath him and settled yet again. He stood, made his way to his trunk, opened it and rummaged inside. Taking the golden-hued jumper out, he moved to climb back onto his bed. Once there, he lay down and buried
his face in the wool, trying desperately to retrieve scent and comfort.

"I miss you," he whispered. "God, I miss you so much."

Ron woke Neville the next morning, sticking his head in the door and calling. If he noticed the traces of tears on Neville's cheeks or the item of clothing that he had obviously been clutching, he said nothing.

~~~~~~~

So much for plans of getting up early to search the house. I'll just have to wait a bit, and search as opportunities arise. Neville ran a comb through his hair, tucked a faded T-shirt into his jeans, and made his way downstairs.

Molly and Ron were speaking together in low tones when Neville entered the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley turned easily away from her son and walked over to Neville, handing him a cup of tea. "Good morning dear. I'm afraid there's just toast and bacon for breakfast. I've got to run to the market sometime today, and then I have to check on things at the Burrow."

"Thank you," Neville said, gratefully sipping his sweetened tea.

"Certainly, Neville dear." She turned to Ron, "Don't forget to tell Hermione and Remus."

"I won't, Mum." Ron said.

"Neville, I've decided that we all need a break from this horrid house. Bill, Charlie and the twins are all in London, Arthur finally has the night off, and Remus has only one more night before the moon. Therefore, I've decided that we are all having dinner at the Burrow. You've not been there since you were small, but Ron will give you coordinates. Six-thirty. Don't forget now." Molly was wiping her hands on a dishcloth and straightening the few dishes as she spoke.

Neville set his tea down very carefully. Dinner at the Burrow. Dinner with Charlie at the Burrow. Neville could not contain the smile that suddenly split his face. Hoping that he didn't look like too much of an idiot he nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley. I won't forget. Thank you for inviting me ma'am."

"Well of course dear, of course." Mrs. Weasley smiled at him, patted him kindly on the arm, and bustled out of the room.

~~~~~~~

Ron was a bit red and he didn't meet Neville's eyes as he moved to sit down at the table. "You off to the Academy this morning?" Neville asked.

Ron shrugged and muttered, "Yeah, in a minute." He still did not look at Neville.

Neville's suspicions increased at this reaction, and he smiled broadly. Ron had grown up over the years. He was more subtle, but still not sneaky in any way. "Ron?" He waited for the other boy to look at him. "Your idea?"

The blush that suffused Ron's face could have lit the night sky. "I ... um... I don't know..." Ron shook his head and smiled sheepishly. "Bugger, can't put anything past you. I thought you wouldn't be upset by dinner at the Burrow."

Ronald Weasley, Neville thought as he had done many times before, was a true friend to any he graced with the title. The redhead might not understand Neville's relationship with his brother, might or might not approve, but he'd seen Neville's distress this morning and had come up with a way to try to fix it.

Neville smiled. "No, not upset at all. Thank you." They smiled awkwardly at each other for a moment before Neville changed the subject. "So where are Remus and Hermione? Did they already have breakfast?"

Ron and Neville made a good dent in the rest of the toast, tea and bacon as they chatted. According to Ron, Hermione had left early that morning on some unnamed errand, and Remus had yet to make an appearance.

The latter circumstance did not last long. Just as Neville was standing to take his cup to the sink, Remus stalked in and grabbed a piece of toast. He looked terrible. Neville washed his cup and his plate, listening to Ron tell Remus about dinner. Remus grunted some sort of acceptance, growled something about the moon and left.

"Well mate," Ron said, standing and stretching as he did so. "Guess I'd best be off. I'll fetch you tonight alright... say six o'clock?" Without waiting for a reply he smiled and left the room.

~~~~~~~

It was a handy little charm that Neville cast as he walked down the stairs into the dungeon. He was aware that the space was most likely officially referred to as the basement; however, this particular underground habitation was far more dungeon-like than Snape's realm had ever been. Neville centered the charm on the first stair. Should any foot touch the wood the hair on the back of Neville's neck would instantly stand up. He'd found this funny when he first read about the charm. Having actually used it and felt it's effect, he'd reassessed. It was decidedly creepy.

The phrase "bull in a china closet" sprang to mind as Neville carefully searched the potions room. There was a plethora of poison in the room - ingredients that could be used in great quantity or by themselves to create adverse reactions, yet when used in proper amount and combination proved useful, even restorative. There, however, was no squat bottle conveniently labeled with a skull and crossbones and a note that said "Death to Harry".

Neville was conscious of the fact that he was out of his depth when it came to potions. The safest conclusion was that, given motivation and ability, someone certainly could have created a toxin in this room. There was no obvious proof that this had or had not actually been done.

Neville left the room, walked quickly back up the stairs, cancelled the charm and peeked around the door. He hated sneaking around. It felt dishonest to be spying on his friends. Nonetheless, he was not one to shirk from a disagreeable task.

The house felt even more like a tomb when it was completely empty. Neville crept from room to room like a thief. Before entering each room Neville knocked, rehearsing innocuous questions in his head to ask the resident should they turn out to be there. He cast the notification charm again and again. He rifled through personal belongings and peeked under beds. By the time he was finished, several hours later, Neville felt like he needed a shower - inside and out. He was dirty, depressed and ashamed.

He returned to his room and retrieved quill and parchment, intending to list his less than amazing discoveries. He could shower once the task was well and truly done - shower then work off some of the filth in the dirt of the garden. He'd then have to shower again, most likely, but that was fine. Neville pursed his lips and began to write.

Remus - apparently researching werewolf mythology;
- seems to favor mainly brown clothing
- box with shackles and chains under his bed - Do I really want to know what those are for?

Molly - pictures of all of her children in the bedside table drawer, including one of Percy which seems very worn as if she's looked at it over and over
- book of magical recipes - Could one of them be toxic?
- lacy thing which makes me want to smile and shudder in equal amounts

Arthur - obviously sleeps at GP from time to time;
- pile of Muggle batteries in a sack at the back of the wardrobe - this seems odd - Are batteries poisonous?
- Ministry paperwork relating to raids on various individual homes - Does he have personal ties with any of these people? If so how would I find out?

Ron - Quidditch gear, Quidditch magazines, Quidditch souvenirs;
- brown leather journal (I feel terrible about reading it. Nothing incriminating)
- Is Ron completely innocent or just excellent at covering?

Hermione - Books, mostly healing (suspicious?) and random volumes on other subjects - fewer than I would expect - does she have more hidden somewhere?
- ratty old teddy bear
- stack of letters from home - Is it suspicious that they were not charmed against intrusion? She misses her mother, frightened for her parents' safety. Could she have made some sort of deal?

Harry - Obviously he didn't poison himself
- Suspicious items - bottle of aftershave - must send to Snape for investigation; box of chocolate frogs - also sending to Snape
- Odds and ends: clothing, Quidditch/broom gear, photo album of his parents - Should I send the album to Hogwarts in case he wakes up?
- Discuss with Charlie tonight

Guest rooms - One hideous green slipper and a box that zapped me when I touched it (Moody?) - ask Charlie if he knows how to disable wards
- drawer with inconsistent depth which upon investigation yielded a stash of pornography of all sorts (twins? Shacklebolt?)
- book of Italian poetry - I think it's poetry - could be code, think about this
- dust and spiders and odd creepy things probably native to the house

Neville scanned the list again, thinking hard to recall anything he'd missed. The kitchen had ingredients in it also, but that was obvious. The remaining basement had been empty of everything but memory. Neville shivered as his thoughts lingered on what dwelt within the bowels of the house. He knew he should burn the note. The house was still and he wanted to read it again after he'd scoured some of the filth off him...even though he knew from experience that one could not wash guilt off with water. Neville rolled up the parchment, sealed it magically and carried it with him to the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~

Upon returning from the shower Neville had written a cryptic note to Snape, attached it to the items from Harry's room, and made a quick trip to Diagon Alley to mail the package. He'd doubled back several times on himself to make sure he was not followed. He felt foolish scanning crowds in fear of seeing faces he knew, smiles he trusted. He felt unworthy, but he'd known that precaution was necessary.

He kept the parchment with him as he worked in the conservatory. He'd missed lunch entirely, but his stomach rolled at the thought of food - Neville always felt it in his gut when he did something he considered less than honorable. There was little time for fussing with any but the most delicate plants, so he worked diligently on those.

Neville brushed his hand across his forehead. It was hot under the glass, now that it had been cleaned. He smiled as he thought of Molly carefully instructing him on how to clean the windows, then staying to help him so that the work would go faster. All the plants seemed to be doing well. He'd have to remember to thank her again this evening.

Thoughts of the evening made Neville smile, even as nervous energy twitched through him. It had only been a matter of days. He'd never been nervous about seeing Charlie before. He reminded himself that there would be dinner and socializing. The evening was not merely about Neville seeing Charlie. He thought about the Burrow and about suspects and...his thoughts drifted back to the second Weasley child and the sound of quiet laughter, the feel of strong arms.

"Snap out of it, Neville. Water the rest of these plants and go take another shower. Otherwise you'll be trailing dirt all through Mrs. Weasley's house." He spoke aloud to the plants all the time, they did not look at all surprised at his most recent exclamation.
~~~~~~~

To Be Continued.....