A Small Disturbance

Note: Story is not mine. My wonderful almost-brother wrote it and told me I could put this on here. All familiar characters used belong to their respective owners. DNS. :)

HAVE FUN READING!

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Luna crouched in a clump of bushes. She peered through the branches at the hole ahead. It was illuminated with magical lights, making it glow brightly in the enshrouding night. People moved to and fro, carrying tools to different archeologists, bringing food, patrolling. It was quite the dig. Waving prominently in the center of the site was a flag. Its emblem was the Dark Mark.

Luna looked to the far side of the ragged hole, to another clump of bushes on the ridge. A sparrow’s call echoed across the pit. To the people below, it sounded like only that. To her, it was something completely different. The earpiece she wore translated it. She heard Neville’s rough voice. “Now!”

She turned around, aimed her wand at a rock a good distance away, and muttered, “Wingardium Leviosa.” It rose up. She guided it carefully to the edge of the pit, and dropped it. A small rockslide ensued.

“What was that?”

“It was over there!” Voices echoed up out of the pit. All eyes scanned the ridge, Luna’s ridge. As they looked for the cause, they missed the man jumping off the rim of the pit. He landed silently, looked around, and darted to a tent on the edge of the camp. A familiar voice shouted down below.

“You three! Get up there and see what’s the matter.” The voice was unmistakable—Draco Malfoy was here. Looking down, Luna spied the familiar blonde-haired, pale-skinned, blue-eyed man. He was thin, and around his arm was wrapped the armband of a Death Eater Commissioner. Luna felt hatred rising in her chest. Tearing her eyes away from that arrogant countenance, she watched the three figures climbing the path out of the cave. In several minutes they would be out, looking around for her. Then, then she would cause the final diversion.

Meanwhile, Neville left the tent, and crouched low behind some boxes. He peered around the edge—the way was clear for another 20 ft. Quickly and quietly, he ran to the next set of boxes. He had to get to the tent in the center of the camp unobserved—if he was seen before then, their mission would be in vain. He looked up again. The archeologists had gotten back to work—and the guards were no longer looking at the ridge. He turned his attention back to the tent—two men stood outside it. With a quick slash of his wand, the two men fell, petrified. Casting one more glance around, he made sure no one would see him. Certain he had a clear shot at the tent he stood up and walked quickly. Without anything to shield him, he felt nervous. He walked all the more quickly, and reached the tent without incident.

It was deserted inside. On one of the field benches sat his goal—a dusty tome written in a strange, curved script. He picked it up gently, and placed it in his bag. He watched the shadows light upon the side of the tent. Each one moving sent fear coursing through him. He peered out the back side of the tent. Looking to the path that was to be his escape, he saw three men crest it.

Any minute now. He had to keep a sharp eye. The second diversion was bound to happen anytime soon.

Luna saw the three men emerge over the edge of the pit. They, stopped, looked, and when all seemed clear, moved forward. They stayed in a tight group, as the Dark Guards had been so thoroughly trained to do. Their sally ended quite abruptly with a muttering of “Bombarda Inflammoris!” A massive explosion blasted the trio into pieces. Singed entrails covered the ground, and some flew into the crater.

Flames from the blast rose into the air. Shouts echoed out of the pit as the people below saw the fire.

“You there! Alert Cairo that we are being attacked! You four—keep an eye on the archeologists—make sure they don’t get away. The rest of you, follow me!” The familiarity of the voice sent shivers down Luna’s spine. The Malfoy child had indeed risen quickly in the ranks of the Death Eaters.

Thunderous footfalls echoed up the narrow path that descended into the pit. Luna climbed out of the bush and retreated. She moved in a crouch, eyeing the way forward for any of the defensive traps the Death Eaters had laid. Every shadow’s flicker made her heart leap a little, but the sheer dread she found when confronted with the prospect of facing Death Eaters on her own kept her moving steadily forward.

Once the pit’s mouth became a line in the background, Luna aimed her wand to the side and again blasted a hole in the ground. The men swarming around the path’s head saw this blast, and immediately charged towards it—just as kill-happy Death Eaters were wont to do.
Her part was done now, and she felt a sense of relief, but concern for her partner in the pit quickly overcame the freedom relief provided. Concern urged her back to the pit—to help Neville. She couldn’t—to run back was to jeopardize the plan; If she ran back, they would follow her, and then she and Neville would be caught between a rock and a hard place. It was better that Neville clear out on his own. Reluctantly, Luna, now clear of the defensive spells surrounding the crater, disapperated into the night.

Neville could barely make out the small pop accompanying Luna’s departure, but make it out he did. He was glad—she had done her job more than admirably, and had lived to tell the tale. He poked his head out of the main tent, and surveyed the dig. The only four Death Eaters had their backs turned to him, and were undoubtedly threatening the archeologists—the learned men were shaking in fear. Breaking away from the terrified civilians, he watched the path closely. A lone messenger ran up it, shouting “Commandant Malfoy! Commandant Malfoy! Urgent message from Cairo!”

Nice. One less bugger to deal with. Noting the path as clear, Neville sprinted for it. He reached the base without incident, and kept running. He rounded the second switchback, nothing. The wind in his hair was so loud that he couldn’t hear anything else. He couldn’t hear someone running back down the path.

Neville rounded the third switchback, and came to a halt as Malfoy did the same. Both skidded to a stop, throwing up dust and stones. Malfoy had his wand out—Neville’s was stowed in the breast of his shirt. Malfoy gazed maliciously at Neville, but obviously, he didn’t recognize his former school-mate.

“Who are you?” Malfoy demanded forcefully. Neville held his tongue, instead trying to burn Malfoy’s brains out with his serious face. Draco raised his wand, focusing intently on Neville’s heart.

“Who the hell are you!?” Again, Neville kept his silence. Malfoy looked closer, examining the features of this stranger’s face…then it struck him…

“Longbottom…?” He muttered incredulously. A miniscule smile lifted Neville’s lips, and Malfoy’s concentration was broken. Disbelief roared through his mind. Could this really be the shy, timid Longbottom from Hogwarts? It was impossible—Neville could never have been that rugged. The disbelief was short lived.

In one curt, swift motion, Neville whipped out his wand and struck. The curse caught Draco in the chest, parting it against its will and knocking him off his feet. It left Malfoy coughing up blood and a gaping wound in his chest. Without a second’s hesitation, Neville sped on.

He reached the top of the path. The Death Eaters had just arrived at the second crater Luna had been kind enough to make, and had taken up a defensive formation around it. They were too far out to be seen clearly, but several of them did see Neville, and didn’t recognize him. They began to shout and to run, and carelessly cast a hail of curses. Neville turned tail and ran as fast as he could, spells blasting up the ground around him. He felt no danger—they were well out of range. As he passed the defensive spell boundary, he felt a weight lift, and hastened to disapperate.

The Death Eaters behind him howled in rage as much as fear—their prey had escaped, and the Dark Lord would bring hell down upon them all.