The DA had been elated to learn that Harry, Ron and Hermione, as well as Dean, were in a safe place. The fact that they still hadn't been caught seemed miraculous to Neville but then again, was he that surprised? Harry was the best wizard he knew at fighting Dark forces. Dumbledore's Army were convinced that Harry would be there soon, to overthrow the Carrows and Snape once and for all.
And then things changed.
Neville exited the Great Hall one morning at breakfast when he turned to see the front wooden doors burst open and Selwyn strutted in, travelling cloak flowing behind him, wand by his side. The Entrance Hall was fairly empty but those few students and ghosts in there turned their heads sharply, Nearly Headless Nick's toppling precariously on his shoulders. Selwyn strolled straight through and up the marble staircase as though he owned the place. Deciding on the spot to follow him, Neville wove past a pack of second-years and briskly pursued Selwyn through the corridor and up three flights of stairs. Selwyn turned around but Neville kept a low profile, and the Death Eater didn't recognise him anyway. He stopped halfway down the third-floor corridor and knocked on Amycus Carrow's office door.
'Selwyn? What're you doin' 'ere? Come in, quick.'
The office door snapped shut behind Selwyn. Neville immediately began rummaging his pockets when he found what he was looking for. He pulled the long reel of flesh-coloured string and slipped it under the crack in the door. The men's voices were immediately magnified, echoing slightly in Neville own ear.
'... causing a lot of trouble, I've heard.'
'He's a bleedin' nightmare,' came Carrow's voice, irritable and impatient, 'I've told Snape time and time again to let me punish him, but he wants proof! Who needs proof, it's bleedin' obvious!'
'Yeah, well ... that's why I'm here. The Ministry's putting a stop to it.'
'Yeah? How've they managed tha'?'
'You know Dawlish? That Imperiused Auror? They sent him to Yorkshire to capture his grandma. We should hear in an hour or so how he got on – well, it's not as if he'll get outdone by a little old witch living alone, is it?'
Carrow laughed harshly while Neville's heart raced and hot anger boiled in his stomach and head. He reeled in the Ear, not wanting to hear more, and headed up the corridor as Selwyn departed behind him.
He lay in the common room that evening afraid, not saying much. He shook his head firmly when Seamus asked how he was, giving Parvati and Lavender the same treatment when they asked too.
So they'd caught Gran, in an attempt to stem his flow of rebelling. Where would they send her to? How long would they keep her for? Surely only for a couple of months, as Neville would have left the school by then ... then again, these were Death Eaters he was talking about: mercy wasn't the term that sprang to mind when thinking about them ...
A sharp tapping noise woke Neville up. He was slouched in his armchair and straightened up as he looked for the source of the loud clicking and tapping. There was an owl at the closed window, flapping its wings to stay aloft, a letter clasped in its beak. Neville heaved himself out the chair and stumbled over to the window. The owl clambered in as he opened the window.
'For me?' asked Neville, surprised, as he saw his name on the envelope. The owl dropped it in his hand and soared through the window and into the night sky.
Neville hardly ever received mail, unless it was from his grandmother at the start of the year sending on stuff he'd forgotten. He slit his finger through it and pulled the letter out, straightening it out on a nearby table.
Neville dear,
I'm sure this will come as a surprise to you, but I was unceremoniously attacked this evening by a foolish Ministry gent, for all the trouble you've given to those treacherous Carrows. I must say, dear, I wouldn't have expected that from you, but you have made me and your parents proud – I daresay your father would have given them similar treatment had they been teaching that Gobbledegook like that in his day. Anyhow, poor Dawlish is in St Mungo's with tomatoes for eyes and one hand. I know he's Confunded or Imperiused but I had to treat him as a Death Eater. It would be best not to reply dear, as I'm on the run now, but I'm in no danger where I'm hiding. Take care, Neville dear, I hope to see you as soon as I can. Stay safe,
Gran
Neville found it hard to keep a straight face at breakfast the next morning. The Carrows looked sick after discovering they had failed to keep hold of Neville's grandmother as well as Neville himself. But this positive mood was quickly dispelled, again replaced with fear. As Neville got up to leave for first lesson, he sensed rather than saw the brother and sister make identical movements from the staff table. Jets of red light fizzed past Neville and crackled the back wall of the Great Hall. Neville didn't hesitate and sprinted through the doors; the Carrows were hot on his heels and he turned his head to see McGonagall flash her wand in fury, while students threw insults and brandished their own wands, but somehow the Carrows got through without a mark –
Neville only had one place to go, and he had the perfect short-cut to get there, but it couldn't guarantee definite escape from the Carrows. He burst through the secret tapestry, and almost flew up the steep passage, escalating past the seven flights of stairs that Amycus and Alecto would be rushing up. When he got to the Room of Requirement door, he sped past it once –
Loud footsteps echoed from round the corner. I need a place to hide from the Carrows.
Twice –
'Sectumsempra!'
Another jet of light missed him, crashing into the small door of the would-be broom cupboard, as he repeated the phrase in his head desperately. I need a place to hide from the Carrows!
Thrice –
I NEED A PLACE TO HIDE FROM THE CARROWS!
'Stop dancing, Longbo'om! CRUCIO!'
He escaped the spurt of light by inches. As the door formed, he crashed through it, and it locked itself. Neville toppled to the ground in his haste to get inside, hearing a distinct thud as the Carrows ran into the wall outside.
He didn't get up immediately, but lay there, panting, his heart bursting through his ribs and up his gullet, his left cheek cooled by the stone floor. It was completely silent but for his heavy breathing. He was alone.
He stood up and found that his right leg gave way slightly; his knee was very weak and he half-remembered smashing it on something as he'd fallen in. He straightened up and looked about him to see how the Room would surprise him this time.
It was fairly small, not much larger than a classroom, though with high ceiling. The red-and-gold Gryffindor hangings draped from balconies above and there was a bookshelf stacked against one wall. A wooden-cased wireless stood in the far corner, whirring ever so slightly. The door where Neville stood beside had reformed into a tall cupboard, rather like a wardrobe. And in the middle of the room, stretched and supported across two stone pillars, hung a grey, clean hammock for someone to sleep in.
Neville spent the whole day in there. He had to admit it was boring but he managed to indulge himself into some Herbology related books and tune into something on the wireless, but it was impossible to find a channel that wasn't Ministry-controlled, which all shouted out the same, exasperating messages, about capturing Muggles and Mudbloods, about the price tag on Harry Potter if caught.
He found it hard to sleep, yet the hammock was certainly comfortable enough. He would have to message Seamus at some point tomorrow evening, where he would be in the common room during the weekend. He had nightmares about being chased by a giant, screaming Mandrake and he ran and tripped into Amycus' office desk; he woke up with his ears ringing and knee aching.
He found it hard to occupy himself the next day. It was only until mid-morning, while he was reading the same sentence in Grunlock's Guide to Bubotubers for the sixth time that he realised how hungry he was. He was on the verge of contemplating whether to message Seamus to bring some food to him when a blank portrait appeared from nowhere on the back wall. He approached it carefully, wondering how it could have appeared so randomly and abruptly. He pushed it with a slightly shaky hand and the portrait swung gently inwards, revealing a tunnel, which could have passed for an aged corridor. Brass lamps lined the two walls, casting sufficient light a long way down the tunnel. The floor was stone but very smooth, as though it had only just been laid.
Cautiously, Neville began walking down the tunnel, even just for something to do. The roof was quite low and he had to angle his head sideways as to not scrape his scalp. The light of the flickering lamps played tricks on Neville's eyes and he kept looking behind him, certain a shadow had appeared. But the corridor remained empty.
Twenty minutes later, the darkness ahead became more solid, and a blank wall grew into the light. The wall wasn't made of stone but it seemed solid enough, and Neville felt a stab of anticlimax, doubtful if the wall would budge. But luckily it did.
He stumbled through the wall, quickly realising it was the back of a portrait, slightly raised from the rest of the room in front of him. He appeared to be in a kind of living room, with a rich, crimson carpet and a fairly dusty set of table and chairs. A man was seated on one of these chairs, a mug of steaming drink on the table. The man turned round to face the intruder. He had long, straggly, grey hair and ragged black robes. His faced was lined and behind the dirty lenses of spectacles were two electric-blue eyes, which pierced Neville ominously as the latter crouched unmoving in the gap in the wall.