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The Case of the Escaped Death Eater, Chapter 6
Title: The Case of the Escaped Death Eater
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott, various others
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: Five years after the end of the war, Aurors Weasley and Longbottom find themselves working together to capture an escaped prisoner on a tight deadline: before the full moon. However, the case is not as straightforward as it seems, especially when the witches in their lives appear to be involved as well ...
Chapter Listing
In this chapter
Chapter Title: Comfort Food
Rating: PG
Characters: Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott
Word Count: 1,532
Chapter Summary: Neville beats himself up mentally after Greyback and Rookwood elude him.
Neville felt interminably weary when he pushed open the doors to the Leaky Cauldron and went through them. The pub was bustling with its usual evening customers and shoppers on their way home from a day at Diagon Alley. Neville wasn't in a mood to chat with the regulars at the bar (he'd probably end up throwing back more pints than was good for him, anyway), so he pushed his way through to the back, carefully avoiding making eye contact with anyone. He let himself into his empty flat, went straight to his room, and collapsed on the bed, not bothering to take off his shoes.
'Tripped on a tree root,' he muttered, staring at the ceiling. 'Bollixed it all up.' He ran a hand over his forehead.
Neville sighed and turned over. It was true he'd done well with the Lupus Propinta, but what was the point when he just reversed all his good work by letting his quarry get away?
He should have stuck with Ron. The two of them together could have taken Rookwood. He knew the value of teamwork. He'd led Dumbledore's bloody Army!
'Gone soft, Longbottom. May as well be an Herbologist and help out as an expert and let the others do the tracking.' He said it bitterly, mocking himself, but there was a nagging thought at the back of his head that said, Why don't you?
'I'm needed,' he told himself. 'Even if I'm not as good, I'm still needed.'
It sounded flat, though, an empty excuse. When he'd first joined the Auror Department, they'd been short-staffed and every day had been a blaze of glory, fighting and bringing in Death Eaters. Things had tempered since then. Was he really needed any more?
The thoughts kept chasing around in his head. He must have drifted off at some point because the next thing he knew, he was being startled by a knock on the door and the low rumble of the charm he'd put to inquire the identity of any visitors.
'It's -- um, it's me, Hannah,' he heard. 'Hannah Abbott.'
Wide awake immediately, Neville threw himself off the bed, dithered for half a second (should he dash to freshen up first?) before dragging his fingers through his hair and bounding to the front door. He prayed he didn't look too rumpled.
Hannah looked surprised when he wrenched the door open. She was waiting on the landing, silhouetted by the light of the waxing moon coming through a window. In her hands she bore a covered basket that smelled quite delicious. Neville's stomach gave a rumble, reminding him he hadn't had dinner.
'I know it's late,' said Hannah, sounding apologetic. 'And I hope I'm not being too presumptuous. You looked quite bothered when you came through the pub earlier and I worried ...'
'Oh, er -- no, I'm -- I'm fine.' His stomach growled again. Neville winced.
'You sound hungry. Looks like I guessed right, then.' Hannah held up the basket. 'This will probably be welcome.'
'Yeah,' said Neville. 'Definitely. Good instincts. Er -- come in.'
He stepped backwards to let her through. Belatedly he realised that his flat was hardly an example of good housekeeping. He groaned inwardly at the socks hanging off the armchair (Were they clean? He fervently hoped that they were.), the detritus of a meal from two days ago still in the sink, and a pile of books scattered haphazardly across the ground at the foot of a bookcase that was meant to hold them.
'Sorry about the mess,' he said sheepishly.
Hannah laughed. 'Neville, I've seen you hang out in the Room of Requirement. This is fairly tame compared to what you guys got up to there.'
Neville didn't know what to say to that. He awkwardly cleared a spot on his table for her to set her basket down. She uncovered it and brought out a heavenly-looking steak-and-kidney pie. It looked freshly baked.
Neville's eyes widened. 'Hannah, you didn't have to-' Again, his stomach contradicted him with the loudest growl yet.
'Tuck in,' said Hannah. She winked at him as she produced a knife and fork. 'You look -- and sound -- like you could make short work of it.'
It seemed to take no time at all between the first bite and his scraping the pan. 'Fanks, 'annah,' Neville said as clearly as he could while gulping down pie. 'Thanks,' he repeated when his stomach finally felt blissfully full and he realised guiltily that he wasn't exactly being an exemplary host. He Summoned two clean cups from the kitchen counter and a bottle of pumpkin juice from the pantry. 'Er -- sorry, I should have done this before. Pumpkin juice?' He poured some for both of them.
'Don't worry about it,' said Hannah. 'Is everything all right? Had a rough day, did you?'
'To put it mildly.'
'I'm sorry to hear it. Greyback can't be an easy case for you.'
Looking into her eyes, Neville suddenly felt like telling her everything -- from the search to his untimely fall and how useless he felt as an Auror right now. There were rules, though. He couldn't just spill all the details of an ongoing investigation to someone outside of the Ministry, even if she was a close friend. Even if she'd been in Dumbledore's Army. Even if he trusted her.
He wanted to talk to her, though, before she smiled her pretty smile and packed up her basket and left. He had to say something --
'Do you think the Aurors need me?' he blurted out.
He waited for her to say yes, to reassure him that he had to be there. It would convince him, he thought, that being an Auror was the right thing for him to do. Perhaps he would be able to silence that traitorous thought that he should be doing something else.
Hannah bit her lip. 'I think you're a great Auror. You fight so hard and you're really determined to do good in the world -- they're lucky to have you.'
'There's a "but" in there somewhere, isn't there?'
'Not the one you're probably thinking of. Neville, you are an incredible fighter. Anyone who's seen you in the DA will know that. And I remember hearing great things about you as an Auror a couple of years ago.'
'Do you think I've gone soft since then?'
'No. I think you've ... done what you needed to do there.'
'There are still Dark wizards. Aurors are still needed to catch them. It's not done.'
'Of course not. But maybe it doesn't have to be you.'
Neville's heart felt strangely lighter at the thought. It doesn't have to be me, he repeated in his head. 'But,' he said slowly, 'I should do what's right. My parents --' He stopped and swallowed. 'My parents did.'
'I think you'll always do what's right, Neville. Whether you're an Auror or not.' She reached across the table and touched his fingers lightly. 'Don't ever doubt that you're a good person through and through.'
His face burned at the sincerity of her words. The room suddenly seemed to have shrunk. Had they really not moved? She seemed a lot closer than before. He couldn't think of a reply. Hannah didn't seem to need one, though. She withdrew her hand and looked down. Neville chanced a glance across the table. Were her cheeks a little pinker or was that just a trick of the light?
At last he broke the silence. 'More juice?'
'Please.'
He got up to pour and as he did so, something fell from his sleeve. Hannah bent to pick it up. It was a ragged piece of cloth that seemed to have been a bag before it had been torn. A corner of parchment poked out.
'What's that?' he asked.
Hannah looked at him curiously. 'I thought you'd be able to answer that.'
Neville set the pumpkin juice down and took the cloth from her. It must have snagged on his robes at some point during the day. Or perhaps it was part of the random debris that found its way around his house. He pinched the corner of parchment between his fingers and pulled it out.
It was a cutting from a newspaper. A picture of a five-year-old boy whose hair, although you could only see different shades of grey in the black-and-white print, kept changing colour. Someone had made a long, sharp tear in the paper, across one of the boy's cheeks.
'Isn't that ... Professor Lupin's son?'
Neville nodded and frowned. He remembered the article now, one of those war tribute pieces that popped up now and then. Harry had been furious they'd snuck a picture of little Teddy and splashed it in the Prophet.
Suddenly it clicked. He knew where this torn cloth bag and the cutting inside had come from. Ron had brought it in from the forest as part of his 'evidence', though he must have been much too worked up over Greyback getting away to have noticed the little bit of parchment still inside.
Greyback. Teddy.
Neville's heart stopped.
'Neville? Neville, say something.'
'Greyback,' Neville said, his mouth dry despite the pumpkin juice. 'I need to warn Harry.'
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott, various others
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: Five years after the end of the war, Aurors Weasley and Longbottom find themselves working together to capture an escaped prisoner on a tight deadline: before the full moon. However, the case is not as straightforward as it seems, especially when the witches in their lives appear to be involved as well ...
Chapter Listing
In this chapter
Chapter Title: Comfort Food
Rating: PG
Characters: Neville Longbottom, Hannah Abbott
Word Count: 1,532
Chapter Summary: Neville beats himself up mentally after Greyback and Rookwood elude him.
Neville felt interminably weary when he pushed open the doors to the Leaky Cauldron and went through them. The pub was bustling with its usual evening customers and shoppers on their way home from a day at Diagon Alley. Neville wasn't in a mood to chat with the regulars at the bar (he'd probably end up throwing back more pints than was good for him, anyway), so he pushed his way through to the back, carefully avoiding making eye contact with anyone. He let himself into his empty flat, went straight to his room, and collapsed on the bed, not bothering to take off his shoes.
'Tripped on a tree root,' he muttered, staring at the ceiling. 'Bollixed it all up.' He ran a hand over his forehead.
Neville sighed and turned over. It was true he'd done well with the Lupus Propinta, but what was the point when he just reversed all his good work by letting his quarry get away?
He should have stuck with Ron. The two of them together could have taken Rookwood. He knew the value of teamwork. He'd led Dumbledore's bloody Army!
'Gone soft, Longbottom. May as well be an Herbologist and help out as an expert and let the others do the tracking.' He said it bitterly, mocking himself, but there was a nagging thought at the back of his head that said, Why don't you?
'I'm needed,' he told himself. 'Even if I'm not as good, I'm still needed.'
It sounded flat, though, an empty excuse. When he'd first joined the Auror Department, they'd been short-staffed and every day had been a blaze of glory, fighting and bringing in Death Eaters. Things had tempered since then. Was he really needed any more?
The thoughts kept chasing around in his head. He must have drifted off at some point because the next thing he knew, he was being startled by a knock on the door and the low rumble of the charm he'd put to inquire the identity of any visitors.
'It's -- um, it's me, Hannah,' he heard. 'Hannah Abbott.'
Wide awake immediately, Neville threw himself off the bed, dithered for half a second (should he dash to freshen up first?) before dragging his fingers through his hair and bounding to the front door. He prayed he didn't look too rumpled.
Hannah looked surprised when he wrenched the door open. She was waiting on the landing, silhouetted by the light of the waxing moon coming through a window. In her hands she bore a covered basket that smelled quite delicious. Neville's stomach gave a rumble, reminding him he hadn't had dinner.
'I know it's late,' said Hannah, sounding apologetic. 'And I hope I'm not being too presumptuous. You looked quite bothered when you came through the pub earlier and I worried ...'
'Oh, er -- no, I'm -- I'm fine.' His stomach growled again. Neville winced.
'You sound hungry. Looks like I guessed right, then.' Hannah held up the basket. 'This will probably be welcome.'
'Yeah,' said Neville. 'Definitely. Good instincts. Er -- come in.'
He stepped backwards to let her through. Belatedly he realised that his flat was hardly an example of good housekeeping. He groaned inwardly at the socks hanging off the armchair (Were they clean? He fervently hoped that they were.), the detritus of a meal from two days ago still in the sink, and a pile of books scattered haphazardly across the ground at the foot of a bookcase that was meant to hold them.
'Sorry about the mess,' he said sheepishly.
Hannah laughed. 'Neville, I've seen you hang out in the Room of Requirement. This is fairly tame compared to what you guys got up to there.'
Neville didn't know what to say to that. He awkwardly cleared a spot on his table for her to set her basket down. She uncovered it and brought out a heavenly-looking steak-and-kidney pie. It looked freshly baked.
Neville's eyes widened. 'Hannah, you didn't have to-' Again, his stomach contradicted him with the loudest growl yet.
'Tuck in,' said Hannah. She winked at him as she produced a knife and fork. 'You look -- and sound -- like you could make short work of it.'
It seemed to take no time at all between the first bite and his scraping the pan. 'Fanks, 'annah,' Neville said as clearly as he could while gulping down pie. 'Thanks,' he repeated when his stomach finally felt blissfully full and he realised guiltily that he wasn't exactly being an exemplary host. He Summoned two clean cups from the kitchen counter and a bottle of pumpkin juice from the pantry. 'Er -- sorry, I should have done this before. Pumpkin juice?' He poured some for both of them.
'Don't worry about it,' said Hannah. 'Is everything all right? Had a rough day, did you?'
'To put it mildly.'
'I'm sorry to hear it. Greyback can't be an easy case for you.'
Looking into her eyes, Neville suddenly felt like telling her everything -- from the search to his untimely fall and how useless he felt as an Auror right now. There were rules, though. He couldn't just spill all the details of an ongoing investigation to someone outside of the Ministry, even if she was a close friend. Even if she'd been in Dumbledore's Army. Even if he trusted her.
He wanted to talk to her, though, before she smiled her pretty smile and packed up her basket and left. He had to say something --
'Do you think the Aurors need me?' he blurted out.
He waited for her to say yes, to reassure him that he had to be there. It would convince him, he thought, that being an Auror was the right thing for him to do. Perhaps he would be able to silence that traitorous thought that he should be doing something else.
Hannah bit her lip. 'I think you're a great Auror. You fight so hard and you're really determined to do good in the world -- they're lucky to have you.'
'There's a "but" in there somewhere, isn't there?'
'Not the one you're probably thinking of. Neville, you are an incredible fighter. Anyone who's seen you in the DA will know that. And I remember hearing great things about you as an Auror a couple of years ago.'
'Do you think I've gone soft since then?'
'No. I think you've ... done what you needed to do there.'
'There are still Dark wizards. Aurors are still needed to catch them. It's not done.'
'Of course not. But maybe it doesn't have to be you.'
Neville's heart felt strangely lighter at the thought. It doesn't have to be me, he repeated in his head. 'But,' he said slowly, 'I should do what's right. My parents --' He stopped and swallowed. 'My parents did.'
'I think you'll always do what's right, Neville. Whether you're an Auror or not.' She reached across the table and touched his fingers lightly. 'Don't ever doubt that you're a good person through and through.'
His face burned at the sincerity of her words. The room suddenly seemed to have shrunk. Had they really not moved? She seemed a lot closer than before. He couldn't think of a reply. Hannah didn't seem to need one, though. She withdrew her hand and looked down. Neville chanced a glance across the table. Were her cheeks a little pinker or was that just a trick of the light?
At last he broke the silence. 'More juice?'
'Please.'
He got up to pour and as he did so, something fell from his sleeve. Hannah bent to pick it up. It was a ragged piece of cloth that seemed to have been a bag before it had been torn. A corner of parchment poked out.
'What's that?' he asked.
Hannah looked at him curiously. 'I thought you'd be able to answer that.'
Neville set the pumpkin juice down and took the cloth from her. It must have snagged on his robes at some point during the day. Or perhaps it was part of the random debris that found its way around his house. He pinched the corner of parchment between his fingers and pulled it out.
It was a cutting from a newspaper. A picture of a five-year-old boy whose hair, although you could only see different shades of grey in the black-and-white print, kept changing colour. Someone had made a long, sharp tear in the paper, across one of the boy's cheeks.
'Isn't that ... Professor Lupin's son?'
Neville nodded and frowned. He remembered the article now, one of those war tribute pieces that popped up now and then. Harry had been furious they'd snuck a picture of little Teddy and splashed it in the Prophet.
Suddenly it clicked. He knew where this torn cloth bag and the cutting inside had come from. Ron had brought it in from the forest as part of his 'evidence', though he must have been much too worked up over Greyback getting away to have noticed the little bit of parchment still inside.
Greyback. Teddy.
Neville's heart stopped.
'Neville? Neville, say something.'
'Greyback,' Neville said, his mouth dry despite the pumpkin juice. 'I need to warn Harry.'