The Death of the Great Ones

Chapter One

Two Miseries

A single tear ran down Neville Longbottom's cheek. In the corner of his mind he could hear his grandmother yelling at him for some reason or another. He couldn't care less. He never had felt this awful. Well, that wasn't true; he had felt this way through summer break. He could not decide if he would be glad to go back to Hogwarts or not. The work would distract him and make him forget about his blunder. Still, would that be insulting and unfair to his memory to forget about him? And what reason was there to go back? Now that the respectable wizards had no chance, it seemed, of now defeating the evil; what hope was there for magic!? And he couldn't care less about how he had thought that!

"Neville! Boy, your head is in the clouds today! You should keep it strait, these are dangerous days. Being part of the Order and all!" Neville wished his grandmother wouldn't talk so openly about him being a part of the Order of the Phoenix. It was not even his grandmother who had suggested him become a part of it. Which was surprising, since his grandmother was always going on about the fact that he should be as good as his parents in every way; to follow in their foot steps. No, the suggestion had come from non other then Mrs. Weasley. She seemed to think that even though he and some others were not quite out of school, they should still know what was going on. They would not, of course, get any field work until they were out of Hogwarts. The most they would be doing is trailing suspicious Slytherins.

"Yes Grandmother," sighed Neville, having no idea what she had said after those first few sentences.

"Good, the funeral is this week. We will get your school supplies afterward," she said.

"One second! They're having the funeral now? But why so late? Did you ask why the funeral was taking so late?" asked Neville, turning sharply around to face his grandmother.

"Oh Neville!" said his grandmother angrily seeing Neville's puffy red eyes, and tear streaked face. "Have you been crying again? I know it was all your fault. Well, mostly your fault! But live and learn, live and learn!"

Neville sighed. His grandmother always had a way of saying things that only made him feel worse instead of better. He knew she only had his best wishes at heart. He still felt even worse about his part in the... No he was not going to cry in front of his grandmother and give her the pleasure of yelling at him.

He felt useless, and touched by evil. Well, more like whipped and magicked. He was surprised he was not like his mother and father. It was not as if he had not had his share of the Cruciatus Curse. He was surprised the Death Eaters had done anything that had left a mark. It just didn't seem their way. He thought about what a miracle worker Madam Pomfrey was. The only physical part of his body she did not heal was a single scar across his hand.

"What day this week?" asked Neville. Did he care what day the funeral was? He was not quite sure. Or sure if he cared about the funeral at all.

"Tomorrow," said his grandmother promptly. "We will leave today though, and off to Saint Mungo's to see your parents, and then go to the Leaky Cauldron where we will stay for one night-" she went on saying something, Neville was not quite sure what. Neville was confused. A second ago he had felt like he would never stop feeling sad, but now all he felt was anger against his grandmother. He had never felt this strongly before, or, at least, not that he remembered. There was no fear of her, just a feeling that she was unfair' unjust, if you will. He was not his parents; he never would be. He would always be, well, a burden to his friends. He did not even deserve friends. His grandmother was the one who wanted him to have them. So he could go and get captured thinking he could... "Neville! Pay attention boy! And do not forget your school stuff!" Neville sighed he must be staying somewhere the rest of the vacation after the funeral. He hoped it was with the Order of the Phoenix. His grandmother refused to step a foot in the building, saying she was too old to be mixing up in that kind of business. Not that she would not do anything; it was the new blood that needed to make the greatest stand of all. Or that was what his grandmother said.

"Yes grandmother!" Neville yelled to his grandmother. He stomped up to his room.

Neville hated packing, so when he got into his room, he stood up and preformed a simple spell for packing. With the spell, his clothes were able to struggle into the trunk but then lay limply in a pile. Sighing Neville walked forward and started folding his clothes. He had attempted to pass his Apparation test so that he could pop in and out when ever he wanted, but after failing the first time, he did not try again. Later he would try again, he promised himself, just not yet.

Neville was good at folding clothes if nothing else. Looking over, Neville ran a gentle finger down his Mimbulus Mimbletonia. He loved plants and Herbology, he hated Potions (even if he was being forced to do it now by Mad eye Moody. Not even Snape dared to say no when Mad eye had told Snape to teach Neville.), Transfiguration and Charms could be worse, and he was really good now at Defense Against the Dark arts. Well, kind of.

"Neville do not forget that Remembrall that I just gave you!" called Neville's grandmother. He had forgotten about the Remembrall. Opening a drawer to take it out, it his rat jumped out of and started tap dancing.

"Put that in its cage," snapped Neville's grandmother walking past his room. Neville grabbed his rat. His uncle had gotten it when he had finally heard that Trevor (Neville's old toad) had finally, and permanently gone missing. So, he, of coarse had scurried off to get Neville another Toad for his birthday. His aunt had seen the dancing rats and had thought that they were just the cutest things. In Neville's opinion it was just a moving ball of black, magically enchanted so that it knew how to dance.

"Accio," he said, and all the Hogwarts books he still needed that year (and some past ones that had spells he still did not understand) flew towards him. Surprisingly, all of them seemed to come and place themselves neatly into his arms. All, that is, except the Potions book which flew a second later straight into the back of his head, knocking all the other books from his arms. Frustrated, Neville bent down and started to pick up all the books avoiding the Potions book till last. Neville pack some odds and ends in last. In the end, he decided not to pack his rat in the trunk, for fear of being yelled at.

"You ready boy?" shoot Neville's grandmother from the bottom floor.

"Yes grandmother," shouted Neville back. He hauled all his stuff out of the door, and, with his muggle clothes all in order, headed down stairs.

* * * * * * * * *

Draco Malfoy sat at Fortescue's ice cream pallor, eating a coconut flavored ice cream and wondering if he should attend the funeral or not. He was sure that he was not on the guest list, but what better way was there of hiding from Lord Voldemort and his followers? Ever since they had been told by a traitor to the Order of the Phoenix, (Draco was not sure how the traitor had figured it out. Not even Dumbledore knew that he had been the mysterious spy who kept them so well informed about what Voldemort was going to do.) that Draco was a traitor himself, he had to be cautious. Even after Snape had been found to be the other working for Dumbledore.

Feeling a bit awkward Draco took a large bite out of his ice cream. In a second, he had a major brain freeze. Shocked Draco moved backwards, his hat slipping off his head, the string keeping it from falling to the ground. Draco quickly brought it up again. It was one of those hats that looked like it came from either olden day China or Japan. It was made of straw and in a kind of triangle circle. It looked rather funny next to his wizard robes, but he decided that it darkened his face enough so it hid his features enough so that no one would recognize him.

"Neville, stop your sniveling and hurry up!"

At this Draco definitely would have been glad to snigger. Seeing blubbering Neville being bullied around would have cheered him up in the past. Did it still? Now that he knew he would eventually go to people like Neville, or at least people with the same morals as Neville, did he dare mock one of them? Did he have to like them and feel pity for this bumbling fool?

Draco stopped mid bit, he sensed someone was looking at him. He knew that person was right behind him. He might be a little safer in a crowded area, but only a little. Ducking a little Draco moved from his seat and dispensed of the rest of his ice cream. He slipped into the busy street hoping that if it was a Death Eater, they would not risk to hurt Draco, or stick around still trying to hit him when the Aurors came. Draco started to walk faster until he was pushing people a side trying to get away from the feeling of someone following him, and soon Draco had broken out into a full blown run.

Draco after several minutes ducked into a corner, breathing hard. He was just being paranoid, that was all. No one was watching him, no one was stalking him, and no one was planning on killing him. So much for being unseen. His hat now was tossed over his head; his light blonde hair was visible. His face was still very pale. He wished that he could somehow change his appearance. But this would either require him have to become an Animagus, or buy potions; and he needed that money so that he could buy food and also an owl so he could send a letter to Dumbledore telling him he would no longer be able to give him information about Lord Voldemort and tell him about the traitor. If that idiot was going to rat on him being the anominous spy for Dombledore, he was most certainly going to rat on him.

Draco pulled up his hat, or what ever it was. He still could not get over how silly this must make him look like. He had to come up with a better way of hiding his face. He heard a girl scream somewhere, and as quick as a flash was off in the opposite direction. He had to get an owl from the Magical Menagerie.

To Draco's great relief he did not get the sensation that anyone was following him anymore. Most people that passed him walked by with out even noticing him, though there were a few that took a double take. Even though he knew no one was following him, Draco kept his ears and eyes open for anyone who even resembled a Death Eater. He knew he was being silly, but in times like these he could hardly help but be a bit jumpy.

Draco pushed back his hat as he entered the Magical Menagerie. He looked from owl to owl, deciding which one he would like to buy; one that would not stick out to badly with the rest, maybe one that would not even reveal a letter. Draco switched his gaze to the snowy owls. He gulped, but swallowed his pride, and started to whistle.

"You get an owl to come to you by your whistling, not only will I give that owl free, but I will also hire you to work in this store!" Draco stopped and made a sharp turn around. What met his eyes was a batty old lady. She had sharp eyes and thin grey hair. She had on a long green robe, with a funny pointed hat. He abhorred witches hats, he had no idea why, but they kind of annoyed him. Draco turned around and started whistling again, and lifted his arm and closed his eyes. Talons gripped her arm; they were sharp so that they had begun to draw blood. Draco opened his eyes. A small white owl rested on his arm. He flinched; how was he supposed to write a letter with out paper or ink, or for that matter a feather. He would have to start cutting down on what he ate.

"Well, you're hired," said the woman.

"What?" asked Draco turning his head sharply so that his eyes met the woman's.

"I told you kid, if you were able to get to that owl down then I would hire you," said the woman. "My name is Emily Tibit; I am your new boss. I will get you a room at the Leaky Cauldron; you start working for me the day after tomorrow."

* * * * * * * * *

Silent tears ran down Ginny's face. She turned and wept on Neville's shoulder. Last year she and he had started dating. This relationship had been going wonderfully, but with this kind of turn of event, well, he understood. Neville could only think about how many people must have given up all hope, how many must have converted over to Lord Voldemort. It was his entire fault! It was everyone's fault. But most of the blame rested on his, Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy's, shoulders, and right now Draco was probably gloating to his fellow death eaters that he had played a major role in... Neville could not even think about it. Maybe it was just because he was thinking of Draco, but Neville thought he had glanced Draco by the rose bushes, but on a second glance, Neville discovered that no one was there.

Looking around Neville could see a variety of people. Most of whom were people from school. Hermione was not to far away. She was crying in Ron's lap, while Ron cried on Hermione's back. They had recently gotten together; they of coarse had shown favoritism to each other. Finally it had been Hermione who had asked if Ron wanted to go on a date. He had accepted immediately. Everyone had laughed at Ron that night. He had looked like a cooked lobster. Voldemort stole away that happiness, by killing one of the only people he had and ever would fear.

Professor McGonagall stood up and said a few words; tears running down her cheeks. Everyone was crying, Neville felt that he was betraying his memory, but could not seem to cry a signal tear more then he already had. Neville scanned the crowed trying to find...there she was! Poor dear, tears ran down her cheeks in buckets. Dumbledore sat down next to Luna and helped her up so she could see her boyfriend's body one more time. Tears erupted as she looked down on the coffin; Harry Potter's lifeless body laying in it.