The Light in the Dark | Neville Longbottom

Chapter 92: Ottery St. Catchpole

Early January 1998

It was the new year; I started keeping track of the dates after Christmas. We didn't celebrate whatsoever, but with an effective way of destroying horcruxes in our hands (the sword of Gryffindor) our motivation quickly returned.

Although Harry and I did most of the planning, the past week was spent coming up with a plan for the last few horcruxes. We immediately crossed Hogwarts and Diagon Alley off our lists. There was no way that Voldemort was hiding horcruxes in places like that. There were too many children at Hogwarts and Diagon Alley was too populated — a horcrux could've easily fallen into the wrong hands.

Ron and Hermione chimed in occasionally, but only on separate occasions. To no one's surprise, Hermione remained stubborn about her feelings towards Ron. She kept trying to convince herself that his return was bothering her, when we all knew that it wasn't. Ron only kept his space to avoid getting something thrown at him.

But despite the awkwardness all around, I enjoyed having Ron back. Everything felt whole again, like he was the glue that kept this group together... and sane. My hallucinations disappeared, and although my father's threats were still on my mind and my boyfriend was missing, I felt happier. And as a result, this death mission started to feel less like one each day.

"Try James..." Ron suggested.

I held my wand to the radio, trying Ron's password. Like the last few times, nothing worked. We were trying to access the Potterwatch radio station.

"What about Padfoot?" Harry suggested, "Or Sirius?"

As expected, the passwords didn't work. We narrowed the possibilities down to people that were in the order. And then when that didn't work, we tried its deceased members. Of course, we were open to other choices, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was tuning in at the correct time and using the right password.

It was impossible to access the station.

Harry looked at his list, scanning it for more possible codes, "Have we tried Prewett yet?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah, and it didn't work. What about Longbottom?"

"Alice and Frank are alive though..." I stammered.

"Barely," Ron scoffed, "They still lost their lives fighting for the order. It's a plausible guess."

I rolled my eyes, holding my wand to the radio, "If you couldn't be any more insensitive, Weaselbee, but fine... Longbottom."

And like the last few times, nothing happened. I folded my arms and raised my eyebrows, staring at Ron, who pshawed. Harry added the name to the list, keeping it as an option. Speaking of the Longbottoms, Neville still hasn't responded, nor have I heard anything new about him. I still sent him messages through the D.A. coin about my day. Neville was missing, but I wondered if he ever saw the messages... Maybe he didn't respond to them because he was unable to. I liked to think that whenever I felt sad about him.

"I FIGURED IT OUT!" Hermione screamed, interrupting us.

For the past few days, Hermione's been cooped up in our room. She barely left for meals, meaning that I had to bring them for her. A lot of the horcrux planning she did on her own — she did own all those books, I suppose. So, when she charged out of the room screaming, it meant something good.

"Figured what out?" Harry asked.

"We must visit Xenophilius Lovegood." Hermione said quickly.

The three of us looked at her like she was speaking in a different language. We expected her to say a location, perhaps a very dangerous one, considering where the last horcruxes have been: the Ministry of Magic, an enchanted cave, and the Chamber of Secrets. But no, she wanted us to visit Xenophilius Lovegood... The Quibbler's publisher.