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Chapter Forty

Yusuke folded right into the dorm room. Neville looked up, gulped, then demanded, "Is any of that blood yours?"

Yusuke looked down at himself; he was covered in blood. "No."

"Then go take a damn bath before you scare the children into hysterics. Then ... you're going to tell all." Neville turned back to his book.

"And if I don't?" Yusuke smirked at Neville.

"I'll sit on you while Hermione lectures you on the virtues of sharing," Neville smirked right back.

Yusuke held up his hand. "Please. I'm gone." He turned and wandered into the bathroom.

He was soon washed and dressed in a sleeping yukata. Neville glanced up when he returned to the dorm. "You going to be able to sleep?"

"In a bit. I'll sit up and read. You ready to sleep?" Yusuke settled in his bed, flipping the covers back and shoving his feet under them.

"Just about." He got up and disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water and odd noises let Yusuke know that he was brushing his teeth. It didn't take long for him to return, settle into his own bed, and reach to close the curtains. "Good night."

"Oyasuminasai, Neburu-kun." Yusuke yawned, his earlier activities had made him more tired than he'd expected. He was getting out of shape. "We're going to work out hard tomorrow. I'm getting soft."

Neville snorted. "Ok. I'm getting better, I think." He closed his curtains to shut out Yusuke's reading light.

"You are. And you'll be better still. You work hard. I'm proud of you. Even if I don't say it enough." Yusuke also shut his curtains, then settled in to read The Book of Five Rings. Not that he hadn't read it several times by now.

He read until his body's exhaustion finally overrode the adrenalin of the fight; then he snuffed his light and went to sleep.

.

Voldemort threw his usual fit and tossed hexes around like confetti. His remaining minions ran, as they always did... but they came crawling back as soon as his temper cooled. They had nowhere else to go, as they had burned their bridges behind them when the first war had put them in the spotlight. Now they were holding onto their social status by their fingernails and envying the Malfoys and Snape. They hadn't had the nerve to stand up to Voldemort, and they were now paying the price. None of them had ever thought that they might fail. They were purebloods and superior, weren't they?

A few, more wise or cowardly, than their fellows, ran for the continent, leaving everything behind. They were just glad to escape with their lives and sanity.

Rabastan Lestrange, tasked with keeping some sort of roster of DE's, eyed the scroll with a scowl. The ranks were very thin now; most of the low-level men had just vanished, like smoke before a gale. The mid-level was now diminished by more than two-thirds, effectively crippling any attempt to recruit from anywhere. And the Inner Circle now consisted of only those few who were the most fanatical; i.e, those who'd escaped from Azkaban with a criminal record that even Fudge couldn't ignore. He read the names again. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Amycus and Alecto Carrow, Thorfinn Rowle, Travers, Mulciber, and Barty Crouch Jr./Karkaroff. He wondered if he could grab his brother and make a run for it. He discarded the idea, as he was well aware that Rodolphus was now half-mad. He wondered if he could make a run for it by himself, but discarded that idea as well, as he had no idea where to go or how to survive.

.

Dumbledore got the notification of the raid on the pub as part of his duties as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. He glanced at it, assumed that the raid was part of some sort of cleanup by the Auror Corps, then signed and tossed it into the "out" basket without much thought.