"I wouldn't do it here, though. Too close to an airport and you'd be picked up on muggle radar. Besides, while aircraft fly at distances far higher than that, they still have to take off and land. As such, they can be passing through that airspace at the time, if you're not careful. It'd really suck to suddenly appear in front of a 737 coming in to land at Heathrow, or something."
"That's... crazy!" explained Sirius. "If you find you suddenly can't apparate..."
"You'd plummet to your death," said Harry. "I know." "Do it with a broom in your hand, though," said Luna. "There's no risk, right?"
"Other than normal splinching as a risk, no," agreed Harry. "Except aircraft, of course."
"Daammnn!" said Sirius. "Just... please don't do that here," he begged.
"I wont," Harry agreed. "Heathrow, Gatwick and Stansted are international airports just in the greater London area alone. Toss in Manchester and they're the four most active airports in the United Kingdom. It's because they're so busy I know damned well that trying my trick of apparating a few thousand feet up is fraught with the danger of being picked up on radar and/or colliding with a huge jet aircraft doing in excess of two hundred miles an hour. Not good."
It took a bit of coaxing on Harry's part to get the two back to thinking about infusing their entire bodies with magic with the intent to slow time in their direct immediate environment again, but he got them there - Luna faster than Sirius, of course.
Sometimes, in the quiet of his own mind, it scared him just how much trust and faith she had in him. Yes, it might be because she was a Seer and could see what would come, but it was still a leap of trust - if not faith - for her to so willingly open herself to him.
Voldemort was angry and had been 'generous' with the number of Cruciatus curses he'd flung about in his 'throne room' in Malfoy Manor. At least half a dozen of his minions had fallen to the Curse before his rage was suitably vented.
The Peverell Lord had, apparently, spent a couple hours that morning in Diagon Alley doing some shopping for robes and, for some reason, potions at the Primpernelle matron's store. However, with such a golden opportunity to approach the man, not one of his loyal Death Eaters were in place soon enough to approach and request he attend an audience with his rightful Lord, him - Lord Voldemort.
When his anger abated he demanded, "Make sure there is always at least one of the Faithful in the Alley, ready to approach him, at all times from this moment forth!"
"Yes, my Lord," those before him all replied, even if a couple of them stuttered from pain while doing so.
When Voldemort gave an order in general, as he'd done this time, all those present were obligated to respond. There had been those in the past who had failed to do so and not many of them were still alive. And those who still lived had felt the pain of a long held Cruciatus for their trouble.
Voldemort did not tolerate being ignored or the disrespect of not being answered.
Neville Longbottom had just returned to his VIP suite apartment, halfway between the Charms corridor and Ravenclaw tower, after having been accosted by Ron and Ginny Weasley as he came out of Professor Flitwick's classroom. He'd just spent another hour with the little Duelling Master, training.
Both Weasleys demanded to know why he was now acting so cold towards them.
Finally, he'd had enough and snapped at them, "Because you both flat out lied to me and have been continuing to lie to me for, I don't know how many, years."
When they seemed surprised it was the almost dual expressions of slight guilt that passed over their faces that was the final confirmation he needed.
Staring in furious hate at Ron, he said, "You, Ronald Weasley, told me that your taking of Harry's broom and coin pouch within days after he died was because Harry told you you could have them both if anything happened to him. I've now had it confirmed that was a blatant lie. He did no such thing.
"That, Ronald Weasley, makes you both a liar and a thief. If you want a friend, go befriend Mundungus Fletcher. You two are peas out of the same pod."
Swivelling his head slightly to stare at Ginevra, he said, "As for you... you have been going around, behind my back, telling one and all we are going to get married as soon as I defeat You-Know-Who. That, too, is a blatant lie; because I will be marrying Hannah Abbott.
"Besides, I've also had it confirmed... by quite a number of people... just what it is you were up to regarding sex while you were a student here. You whored yourself out, Ginevra Weasley. And, from the sheer number of people who have confirmed that for me, together with specific details they could only know about you if they'd each had sex with you, I can do nothing else but accept that what they have told me is the truth.
"You are to stop with the slander against me of telling people you and I are going to get married, or I will sic the Longbottom family solicitors and barristers onto you. Their instructions will be to spread the information you have been lying to everyone far and wide; then, if you push back, their instructions will be to spread the information far and wide of evidence of your... behaviour... while at Hogwarts."
Snapping his head around to stare again at Ronald, he said, "As for you, as of this day I will be informing one and all that you are not my so-called 'best mate'. Best mates do not lie and steal from you; as you, while supposedly the best mate of Harry Potter, did that to him.
"I do not and will not truck with thieves, liars and scoundrels; other than having to deal with you as a member of Dumbledore's little Order of the Phoenix, just as I have to tolerate being in Mundungus Fletcher's presence.
"Stay the fuck away from me... the pair of you."
Then, not even waiting for either of them to say a word, he spun about and stormed away.
Now in his apartment he had been pacing back and forth for a little while, wondering what to do next.
However, he already knew what he had to do and also knew he was just delaying the inevitable.
Finally, he gave a huff and called a Longbottom, rather than a Hogwarts, house elf.
"Flippy, please pack my personal effects and take them to Longbottom Hall," he instructed the elf. "Enough is enough; I'm returning home." As the elf packed he picked up his always-present 'pad' of blank parchment and ever-full quill. He had a note to write.
Stepping out of the floo at Longbottom Manor, Neville was greeted by his grandmother standing behind a marble revetment with her wand drawn.
As soon as he stood up, she barked, "Password!"
"The Seven Virtues," he immediately replied.
"Your pet toad," she said. "What did your Uncle Algie name him?"
"Squirt," he immediately replied. "But I named him Trevor." Then, not even pausing, he demanded, "What is your nickname for Aberforth Dumbledore?"
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