Augusta Longbottom: A Core of Pragmatism
She had been set a singularly daunting task. How could anyone expect her to drift off to sleep when her only grandson, Neville, was getting married the next afternoon?
The bride’s family had arranged for professional decorating and food service, all to allow the groom’s family some relaxation before the big event. Augusta Longbottom’s sole assignment had been to see that the guest rooms were properly outfitted, a task which she had completed as part of the general house renovations.
That had left her with the summer months to devote to the flowerbeds. Now at the height of August, the pathway leading to the veranda was a riot of color, magical blooms nestled peacefully among more mundane varieties. Exotic wild grasses swayed in the planter encircling the massive yew tree at the rear of the property, ready to provide a multi-hued backdrop to the wedding ceremony itself.
Coaxed by the tender moonlight, the delicate blossoms had closed their petals, the better to present fresh faces come the morning. It did not appear that Augusta would follow suit, however.
She was just not the type of grandmother who preferred sedentary activities like needlework or endless lecture series. When her contemporaries had been cultivating hobbies, she’d been engrossing in raising Neville.
Augusta allowed herself a heavy sigh as she fluffed her bed pillow once more. Neville’s world was so very different from the one of her own youth. So much upheaval in the past few years had left an indelible mark on wizards everywhere.
How well she recalled the heartwarming and frustrating moments alike, each a milestone in its own way….
She’d been uncertain what to make of her grandson; he certainly didn’t take after either of his parents. Where Frank had been bold -- often to the point of brashness -- Neville was quiet and docile. At an age when his father had been terrorizing anything that moved from astride his toy broomstick, Neville was content to spend hours in quiet play.
Augusta’s daughter-in-law, Alice, had been so open and engaging that their house had been filled with friends at the weekend, at least until Voldemort’s taint had made everyone doubt his own shadow. How her cheerful manner had made little Neville gurgle and smile as she read him bedtime stories. Neville had absorbed himself in those same picture books, even though it was years before he was able to read the words for himself. Was he searching for his mother among those familiar adventures? Augusta often wondered.
Or had he been too young to really remember? After all, he had nothing but his gran’s recollections that his parents had not always been the pale images who rested in St. Mungo’s.
She’d shared the child-rearing duties with Trevor then, Alice’s father being a great favorite of Neville’s with his shop full of woodworking tools and endless supply of patience. Neville had toddled after the man from the day he learned to walk, spending hours digging in the garden with his plastic shovel while Trevor tended to his beloved vegetable patch. Augusta still remembered how she’d have to Scourgify them both when they returned from an afternoon of pulling weeds.
As much as she’d first resisted the notion of Trevor leaving his home in Monken Hadleigh, after all was said and done, it had made perfect sense for Neville to be raised by one grandparent from each side of the family. There were certainly enough empty rooms in the Longbottom house for them each to have plenty of elbowroom. And if the neighbors wanted to gossip about a widow and widower joining forces to raise their grandson, Augusta didn’t care one whit! All that mattered was Neville’s well-being in the wake of his parents’ tragedy.
It was a short-lived arrangement as Trevor had died quietly in his sleep not three years later. Stretched out for a summer nap on the veranda with his floppy gardening hat blocking his face from the sun, he’d slipped silently away. Augusta had only discovered him when little Neville came tugging on her apron strings to report that Gramps had let all the ice melt in his lemonade. The house -- and their lives -- had seemed emptier with Trevor gone.
Augusta wasn’t certain what events had made an impact on Neville’s young mind. That is until he sent his first owl back from Hogwarts full of details about the welcoming feast and the candlelit boat ride across the Black Lake. Her breath caught in her throat when he mentioned that the older students were transported in regal coaches just like those in fairy tales, only these were drawn by glistening black thestrals. She wrote back that it was heartening to hear that he was applying the lessons from his magical menagerie books. She didn’t let on how it chilled her to learn that an eleven year-old had such familiarity with death.
Augusta’s intuition that Neville would find the Hogwarts’ curriculum challenging proved to be correct. Coupled with the lad’s compliant nature, she was certain that her grandson was destined for Hufflepuff House. Imagine her elation when he wrote that he’d been sorted into Gryffindor just like his father and great uncle before him. She sent him a Remembrall as a gift, its red smoke so ideal for a proud, new Gryffindor. She’d told him as much in her note.
How vividly she recalled his breathless reply:
recalling what I’ve forgotten. I guess you could say that
I’m falling into the Hogwarts routine.
Some of the other students were jealous, though. Draco
Malfoy couldn’t help borrowing it just to gloat that he was
an accomplished flyer. Never fear, Harry Potter came to
my rescue. (Remember me telling you that I shared my
dorm room with him, Ron Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, and
Dean Thomas?)
Without thinking that it was his first time on a
broomstick, Harry swooped into the air to catch the
Remembrall which Malfoy had thrown mightily across the
quad. When Professor McGonagall marched Harry from
the practice field, everyone was so certain he’d end up in
detention for disobeying Madam Hooch’s orders. Instead
she assigned him to play Seeker for the Gryffindor
Quidditch team, even though first years are never allowed
to play on the House teams. Nearly never, I should say.
Upshot is that we (Gryffindor House, that is) beat
Slytherin at yesterday’s match! Can you believe it?
Slytherin!! Harry was so shaky when he dismounted his
broom that we all thought he was going to vomit, but then
he coughed up the Snitch he’d caught in his mouth. Isn’t
that absolutely brilliant? And it all came about because
you sent me the Remembrall.
That was a long missive from a shy eleven-year old, Augusta conceded. His excitement at being a part of a new community had overshadowed his own abominable lesson. Madam Pomfrey had given her a full report when he’d landed in Hospital with a broken wrist.
Yet Neville never backed down, just worked with dogged determination to slowly master that which others learned with less effort. Augusta admired his tenacity in the face of adversity.
It was a quality that had served Neville well from an early age. Not wanting him to grow up with just an old lady and some stray chickens for company, Augusta made certain Neville paid regular visits to his cousins.
Augusta’s younger brother, Algie, had waited ten years after his first wife’s passing to remarry a much younger woman. With Enid’s able help, they had amassed a boisterous family: three rowdy boys born close together, full of mischief and mayhem. Aunt Enid mentioned how much Neville reminded her of Augusta’s late husband Lowell, while Uncle Algie was concerned that the lad didn’t display any outward signs of magical ability.
–Do you think the poor boy’s a Squib?†he hissed in Augusta’s ear. –Not that it’s anything to be ashamed of, mind you.â€
–All that trauma at such a young age,†Enid pressed with a worried frown.
–The Healers don’t seem to think so,†Augusta assured them, burying the silent doubts she harbored herself. –Some children’s abilities just take longer to develop.â€
Common sense told Augusta that Neville just needed more interaction with other magical children. She didn’t need to pay fifty galleons to a Healer for the same advice.
In spite of their monthly visits, Neville was no match for his cousins. They’d dare him to jump off the pier, demonstrating how bodies naturally floated as they each bobbed to the surface, omitting any mention of the swimming classes they’d attended over the past three summers.
Algie fished Neville from the surging ocean with a well-placed Leviosa Charm. Enid reprimanded her brood for being so reckless with their cousin who didn’t live near the seashore like they did.
–Whatever possessed you to follow their lead?†Augusta had scolded as she tucked her grandson into bed that night.
Undaunted, Neville merely shrugged. –I thought I could catch the rope hanging beneath the pier. Only from the water, it’s too far away.â€
He didn’t seem any worse for the ordeal, so Augusta didn’t dwell on it. No need to make the hapless lad doubt his own abilities.
Of course, if she had lectured him more strongly, perhaps the whole Humpty-Dumpty incident could’ve been averted. Granted, Algie was so pleased that Neville had actually bounced when he fell from the second story window. At last, confirmation that the lad was destined to be a fine wizard!
Augusta could only think what might have happened instead. Would the Healers have been able to knit broken bones or would he have suffered some irreversible head injury? But she didn’t voice her fears aloud; it wouldn’t do to spoil Neville’s sense of achievement.
It didn’t occur to her that his quiet persistence was actually a singular form of courage. Not at least until Dumbledore pointed it out to the whole school at the end of term banquet.
–We won!†Neville cried the moment he disembarked from the Hogwarts Express after his first year. –Gryffindor won the House Cup!â€
–It’s a group effort, dear,†Augusta pointed out in her usual matter-of-fact tone.
–But for once I made a difference! I stood up to my housemates who were intent on breaking curfew.â€
–Did you keep your mates out of trouble?â€
Neville shook in head. –Nope. Took a Full-Body Bind to the chest. Although Hermione did apologize afterwards.â€
–The same girl who’s at the top of your class?â€
–Never met a spell she couldn’t master. By the time the jinx wore off, the three of them were on the far side of the castle.â€
–So you were able to win back the points those three lost?â€
–Headmaster awarded them extra points for saving the Philosopher’s Stone. Remember the clipping you sent me from the Daily Prophet?â€
Augusta wasn’t certain she understood Dumbledore’s teaching methods but chose to keep silent. She didn’t want Neville to become the sort of bookish child who was afraid of his own shadow.
–We were in a dead heat with Slytherin House at that point,†Neville continued as his grin increased in wattage. –Then the Headmaster awarded me extra points for standing up to my friends. Said it took a special person to do that. Don’t you see? My points made the difference!â€
In his unassuming way, Neville continued to improve at school, developing a true talent for Herbology. He struggled with Transfiguration, a subject which had always been Augusta’s favorite. And try as he might, he could never impress his Potions Master.
–But don’t worry, Gran,†Neville assured her. –Professor Snape hates everybody. Even Hermione.â€
Augusta did her best to hide her shock each time they visited Alice and Frank at St. Mungo’s. Mere wisps of themselves, they were, yet the Healers insisted their vitals showed no signs of dimming.
–They’re enjoying a second childhood,†one Healer assured them. –No pains, no worries.â€
Augusta certainly hoped that was true. After all, there was always a possibility that a cure might be developed.
Albeit, that had seemed a better prospect when their limp bodies had first been rescued. The flush of youth still clung to their features then, looking for the world like they would wake up any minute. By the time they opened their eyes months later, the vibrancy had already begun to fade from their faces.
How could such a thing have happened? Augusta railed in quiet moments alone. They had been assured He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been vanquished the week before. Their household had just been returning to normal when that madman’s deranged followers ambushed Frank and Alice.
To think those events had started so innocently at Neville’s first birthday party. The child being too young to have friends of his own, the room had been filled with his parents’ colleagues from the Auror Department, old school chums, fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix -- although Augusta had no inkling that such a secret organization existed at the time.
She couldn’t rightly keep track of the faces among all the sprightly conversation and frequent bursts of laughter. Alice was so gregarious that it wouldn’t have surprised anyone if the Minister himself had waltzed in the room. Or even when Dumbledore arrived, for that matter, as if the imposing wizard wasn’t the closest thing to royalty among their kind.
Neville’s initial restraint had dissipated as unfamiliar faces and voices became a new playing field. He was just learning to crawl on all fours, the added incentive of a whole army of cooing adults was just what he needed to practice his new-found mobility. By the time the cake was passed around, he was napping contently in his mother’s arms, a brightly-feathered plush cockatrice held tightly to his chest.
There was nothing ominous in their former Headmaster requesting a private word once the party started to wind down. A quiet brandy in the library, what could be a more relaxing end to the evening?
Not five minutes into the conversation, Alice had emerged and hustled Neville into Augusta’s arms.
–Please take him upstairs,†Alice implored. –This may take a while.†The sudden pallor in her cheeks conveyed so much more than her simple request.
Augusta nodded woodenly, worry tugging at her heart. She went through the familiar routine of tucking her grandson into his crib with a final bottle of warm milk to see that he slept soundly through the night.
Albus himself met her at the base of the stairs. –Augusta, would you join us please?†he supplied as he ushered her towards the library. The way his long moustaches drooped at the corners of his mouth conveyed deep concern.
She found Frank and Alice huddled together on the sofa.
–Was there an accident of some sort?†she blurted without thinking. –One of your guests who couldn’t make it tonight?â€
–Nothing as dire as that,†Frank muttered, though the fright in his eyes only intensified.
–That’s what we’re trying to prevent,†Dumbledore assured her. –Precautionary measures only.â€
She’d sat like a rag doll as the great wizard spoke of a misread prophecy which that upstart Lord Voldemort had taken to heart. One of two young boys was destined to be his downfall; by the description, one was Harry Potter, the other was Neville.
–Since when do you hold such stock in prophecy?†Augusta demanded, determined that no one would guess that her insides had turned to gelatin.
–I don’t,†Dumbledore concurred. –But it doesn’t matter what you or I believe. As long as this Lord Voldemort takes action based upon the prophecy, then he will force it to come to pass.â€
–We won’t know which boy it is until he makes his move,†Alice sobbed.
–And he may decide to remove all obstacles,†Dumbledore issued so softly she had to strain to hear. –Both boys must be kept safe.â€
He detailed how the Potters had decided to rely on a Fidelius Charm. He recommended that Alice and Frank select a different plan to confound their enemies that much more.
–Neither Alice nor I wish to resign our posts as Aurors,†Frank summarized. –Too many defenseless people are depending upon us at times like these.â€
–Even to go on holiday would send the wrong message,†Alice insisted. –They’ll be more determined than ever to flush us out of hiding.â€
–Won’t the same be said about the Potters?†Augusta wondered.
–James works from home, mostly on philanthropic endeavors,†Dumbledore elaborated. –He has no set schedule to disrupt. Lily Potter left her Ministry post when Harry was born; no one expects her to return until the child is old enough for formal schooling.â€
Augusta allowed them to convince her that it was only Neville who was in danger. Alice and Frank were fully capable of defending themselves against fanatics; it was what Aurors were trained to do. She agreed to take Neville on an extended visit to all his relations, seeking out even those who had become estranged. Most of all, her path was to follow no discernable pattern.
–We’ll only be a message away should you encounter any difficulties,†Alice promised. –You do know how to conjure a Patronus, don’t you?â€
–Mum was in the dueling club at school,†Frank interjected proudly.
–How well I remember,†Dumbledore concurred softly.
At their urging, Augusta concentrated on the moment she’d first held her little grandson in her arms. Why the squirming little bundle was gazing at her with Frank’s eyes!
A smoky shape with too many legs exploded from Augusta’s wand.
As it scampered away, Dumbledore chortled deeply, –An acromantula! That’s a new one on me.â€
–Now they’ll have no problem knowing the message is from you,†Frank agreed.
Swearing her to secrecy about a form of communication which was only used by a select few, they advised her to address any distress calls directly to Alastor Moody.
–He’ll be able to round up a squadron of trustworthy Aurors before either Frank and I can,†Alice pronounced.
The fact that not all Aurors were trustworthy was a testament to the uncertain times, but Augusta kept her thoughts to herself.
What could she do but agree, leaving Alice and Frank to confront evil on their own? For months, Augusta lived in fear of every siren, every creaking step on the stairs, all too often waking up in strange houses and not immediately recalling what she was doing there. Only Neville’s warm body cuddled in her arms reminded her of her sacred duty.
Not that Neville much liked being rocked, except at bedtime. Crawling endlessly from one end of the room to the other, he had lately begun to pull himself into a standing position. How she longed for her exile to end so Frank and Alice could witness their son’s first steps!
Then one morning, she was woken by shouts from the street. Wild jubilation had taken hold of the magical community. VOLDEMORT VANQUISHED, the headlines in the Daily Prophet proclaimed. Stopped when his killing curse had rebounded from little Harry Potter’s forehead. The lad would bear a strange, lightning-shaped scar, but he was a hero! The only person to have survived a killing curse! The Boy-Who-Lived, he was being hailed. Only near the end of the page did it announce that both James and Lily Potter had been killed in the attack.
Alice and Frank! Augusta’s mind wailed. Had the madman paid them a visit before going to the Potters’?
By mid-morning, an owl arrived from Alice to assure Augusta that she and Frank were fine -- though reeling a bit from the revelation that it had been a close friend who betrayed the Potters. Likely, they knew this person, too. Alice advised keeping to keep to the original plan until the traitor was unmasked.
It didn’t take long. Sirius Black was apprehended when he’d claimed another of the Potters’ close circle, the hapless Peter Pettigrew. Black was taken into immediate custody. As James’ closest friend and little Harry’s godfather, no one doubted that Sirius had been chosen as the Potters’ Secret-Keeper. Rumor was that the Black family had a long association with pureblood supremacy groups such as the Knights of Walpurgis. Why should it surprise anyone that their eldest son had sold out his friends to his dark master? the Daily Prophet concluded.
Augusta delayed their homecoming a few extra days so could Neville attend his Cousin Tremaine’s birthday party; the tyke was so excited about the pony rides that were planned. Alice wrote back that she would expect Augusta and Neville’s return at the weekend.
In dismay, Augusta searched the satchel where Neville’s clothing was stored, but there was nothing suitable to wear to his cousin’s party. She debated going into the nearby shops, but it seemed such an unnecessary expense -- especially when Neville would just outgrow the next set of garments within a matter of weeks.
What she needed were Frank’s old baby clothes from the bottom of the clothes cupboard. How clearly she remembered the tiny suit her son had worn for his second Christmas. Two wearings later, it was too snug and Augusta had tucked it away. Now it was ideal for Tremaine’s party.
Deciding that nothing less would do, Augusta left Neville in the care of Algie and Enid while she Apparated home for an hour at most. Enid had teased her for being a sentimental fool, but Augusta just ignored it. It was practicality, plain and simple.
She Apparated to her usual spot, silently unlatching the back door. Amid the shadowy contours of the kitchen, she laid the hamper of outgrown clothing on the familiar tabletop. The breakfast dishes had not been cleared, but what did it matter when Alice and Frank were alone?
Voices were coming from the front room; guests perhaps? Surely, Frank hadn’t succumbed to acquiring one of those dreadful Muggle ‘tellys’ while she’d been away.
She hesitated at the doorway, recognizing the haughty, patrician tone from a wireless report. But what was Bellatrix Lestrange doing in the parlor?
–No, please…†Alice’s voice groaned. –We don’t know….†The rest was cut off in a high-pitched scream.
–Then you’ll just have ta concentrate harder,†a harsh male voice snarled.
–She can’t tell you what she doesn’t know!†That was Frank’s voice, but with a desperate edge that Augusta had never heard. Another flash of magic and her son’s voice dissolved into raspy sobs.
Augusta shook off the icy bite of panic. Even though she hadn’t practiced the spell in years, her body remembered the sensation of an elongated neck, arms and fingertips dissolving into sooty feathers. Within moments, she had transfigured herself into a vulture and taken wing out the open window.
She resumed human shape on the far side of the potting shed where she could not be seen from the main house. The wand she had clasped resolutely in her claws lay at her feet. Frantically addressing her Patronus in whispers, she sent the smoky spider in search of Alastor Moody. Only then, did she allow trembling to overtake her.
–You called just in the nick of time,†Moody gruffly praised. –That’s a pair of Death Eaters who’ll be taking up residence in Azkaban, mark my words.â€
–What about Frank and Alice?†Augusts barely wheezed.
–Already at St. Mungo’s. The Healers will sort them out. They’re experienced with all manner of spell damage.â€
–There’s more to my son and daughter-in-law’s involvement, isn’t there?†she demanded.
–I really can’t say,†Moody hedged, turning his face deliberately away.
Augusta doubted there was very little that escaped that magical eye. –If only I’d --â€
–Stop yourself right there!†Moody growled. –What ifs and conjectures never solved anything! Be glad you didn’t return with the babe in tow. He might’ve cried out and announced your presence. Then who would’ve called for help?â€
Moody was right, of course, Augusta reminded herself. But all she could think was that poor Alice and Frank would miss Neville’s first steps.
All those fears resurfaced when Neville returned for his third year of schooling amid reports that convicted murderer, Sirius Black, was on the loose. Headed towards Hogwarts, if one was to believe the man’s demented ramblings.
Albeit, Neville’s newfound enthusiasm in his defensive magic classes was encouraging. His letters home were brimming with superlatives about his new teacher:
all about practicing the spells outlined in the text -- only he
makes it seem easy for everyone. When he called on me to
demonstrate banishing a boggart in front of the whole
class, he whispered the perfect solution in my ear. I was to
envision it dressed in one of your frocks and carrying your
red handbag. It worked! Despite how nervous I was, it
worked like a charm! Made me a bit of a hero, that.
Everyone was talking about it afterwards, saying I’d been
the best of anyone that day.
How well Augusta remembered Remus Lupin. He’d been among those who’d stopped by the house to offer assistance after Frank and Alice had been hospitalized. He’d looked like he was convalescing from a long illness himself, but his handshake was as genuine as his compassionate smile. It was all too easy to envision this man as a gifted teacher.
Not long after the start of term, she was pleasantly surprised when he sent her a note praising her grandson’s accomplishments in his class. Other than Professor Sprout, no other teacher had spoken so glowingly about Neville.
the obstacle. Not to mention the courage to face his
deepest fears head on -- even if he’s secretly quaking in his
Wellies.
When asked, Neville replies, –I get it from my gran. She’s
not afraid of anything.â€
Yet I can’t help but think that the events leading up to
this school term may have worried you more than you let
on. Please rest assured, Neville is perfectly safe at
Hogwarts. The school is cordoned off by a ring of
dementors ready to apprehend Sirius Black the minute he
nears the perimeter.
The Headmaster’s plan is to circumvent any sinister
plots before they are hatched. By his own admission, Black
is searching for Harry Potter; so the entire school acts as
a protective shield. As his single remaining friend,
Dumbledore believes that Black may try for me as well. He
will not succeed, Mrs. Longbottom, you can bank on it.
Unlike Peter Pettigrew who was caught off-guard (and
never really took his lessons seriously), I stand ready to
return this criminal to justice.
You have my word that both Dumbledore and I are
keeping a particularly close watch on Neville as well as
Harry.
She had always assumed Lupin was a Ministry colleague; he seemed just the cerebral sort recruited by the Department of Mysteries. Nothing had surprised her more when Neville announced with a dejected frown that Professor Lupin had resigned at term’s end, convinced that parents would be horrified that he’d suffered from lycanthropy since childhood.
Like Neville, Augusta tended to think that the world was determined to treat the unlucky as second-rate or third-rate citizens -- almost as if they’d heaped misfortune upon their own shoulders. She longed to send an encouraging note to Lupin, but no one seemed to have a forwarding address.
She barely contained her outrage when Neville detailed Moody’s lesson about the Unforgivable Curses the following year. Couldn’t they be allowed to be children for another year at least?
But the news of the elder Barty Crouch’s slow mental decline and death sent shockwaves through the wizarding community. The man had always been such a pillar of strength, turning his own son over to Magical Law Enforcement when the lad’s involvement with dark forces was revealed.
When a very subdued Neville returned home in the aftermath of the Triwizard Tournament, Augusta concluded that evil would not spare Hogwarts students just because they were underage. It wasn’t a dangerous magical competition which had claimed Cedric Diggory’s life, but a maniac intent on world domination.
Augusta never doubted the explanation Neville relayed. Harry Potter’s words had the ring of truth from one who had witnessed events first-hand. That the Daily Prophet was intent on painting the lad as a self-serving liar just convinced her that much more that Harry was telling the truth.
–Stand by your friend, Neville,†she encouraged her grandson. –Far too many allow themselves to be swayed on the tides of popular opinion.â€
It was only fitting that Neville’s letters tapered off in his fifth year; better that he concentrate his efforts on his upcoming OWL exams. When he returned at Yuletide, he insisted that they reinstate their subscription to the Prophet.
–As much as I hate to subsidize that rag, it’s the only way you’ll be able to keep abreast of things at school,†Neville explained.
–I do just fine with the Wireless News Service,†she objected. –And a letter or two wouldn’t hurt…â€
Only to have Neville interject, –Everything’s searched, read, deciphered. Even the Floos are being watched. That vile toad-woman insists there’s nothing to be worried about but her very actions tell otherwise!â€
Neville had always been such an easy-going lad, yet there was no denying the fire in his words. Injustice seemed to go hand-in-hand with that Umbridge woman Minister Fudge had foisted on the school, her twisted agenda even prohibiting students from practicing defensive spells.
–But don’t worry, Gran. I won’t let my Defense training fall by the wayside.â€
–Not with OWLS coming up.â€
–Not with Voldemort’s forces laying in wait,†Neville corrected her, the determination in his eyes so reminiscent of his father, Frank.
Despite the inherent risks, Augusta applauded Neville’s participation in Dumbledore’s Army. Study groups had always been encouraged at Hogwarts, regardless of the Ministry’s stringent decrees. It was as if those simpletons wanted to bring learning to its knees!
She found a bruised, but capable, Neville propped up in the Hospital Wing after a disastrous raid on the Ministry of Magic.
–We showed them we were not to be treated as children,†he whispered. –I only wish I could’ve done something to save Harry’s godfather. He doesn’t really have anyone else.â€
–He has you,†Augusta had soothed through the lump in her throat. –You and the rest of his trainees are his surrogate family.â€
She was so proud that Neville has played a part in unveiling Fudge’s lies. The public needed to know of Lord Voldemort’s return -- even if it was unwelcome news.
Despite Neville’s recent growth spurt, there was still an air of innocence about him, a idealism that could be a liability in the dark times ahead. All the more reason to expand his perspective when he returned for summer term break, Augusta decided.
–Did I ever tell you about the man who wanted to hijack magic?†she began one balmy evening after supper. –I wasn’t much older than you at the time.â€
–We learned all about Dumbledore’s defeat of Grindelwald in History of Magic,†Neville dismissed.
–I won’t deny that Grindelwald figures into the story, but the man I’m talking about was a Muggle: a petty autocrat who stoked the flames of nationalism until it threatened everything in its path.â€
–Like Fiendfyre?â€
–Not a bad analogy,†Augusta acknowledged. –While Grindelwald was still postulating how strong-arm techniques could be marketed ‘for the greater good,’ right over the border, a little upstart was determined to steal magic for his own dastardly plots. Made no secret of it as his followers were instructed to seize all articles with occult and magical properties.â€
–Was there a breach in the Statute of Secrecy?â€
–For all we know, Herr Hitler was simply determined that magic had to exist, if only for the sole purpose of defeating his enemies. In his twisted mind, his shortcomings were blamed on the world at large, particularly those who were different.â€
–Sounds a bit like Voldemort’s followers.â€
–Totalitarians are all the same when you strip away their trappings,†Augusta concurred. –Same basic formula repeated time and time again. No imagination.â€
–How do you know so much about this, Gran? Happenings in the Muggle world --â€
– -- are often deemed irrelevant to wizards,†she finished handily. –Not in this case. The search for magical artifacts was not always accomplished peacefully, the trail often leading to the doorsteps of wizarding folk who’d lived amicably with their Muggle neighbors for generations. They turned to their Ministry for assistance.
–In turn, the Ministries of Austria, Germany, and most of Eastern Europe turned to others for assistance, the British Ministry of Magic for one. Your late grandfather, Lowell, was employed by the Department of Magical Cooperation at the time. He often relayed the dire events to me in whispers when we met for tea in the Atrium courtyard.
–What was even more calamitous was that the Muggle crown prince was known to sympathize with the Germanic counties which were now in the throes of this madman. Where there was persecution, the Prince of Wales saw burgeoning prosperity; fanaticism was a renewed esprit de corps.
–Then Grindelwald’s long shadow fell across the land. Many members of the International Federation of Wizards, Dumbledore among them, theorized that Grindelwald intended to follow in Herr Hitler’s wake. Arian superiority was very similar to the pureblood supremacy espoused by Grindelwald’s followers; that was inescapable.
–But with Muggle Britain compromised, Grindelwald’s invasion might be unstoppable, the most renowned wizards argued. So a bold plan was hatched in secret --and at great risk to the wizarding world. For the first time in history, they would have to interfere in Muggle affairs of state.
–This part of the story you won’t find in the accounts of the Second World War. Nor will the History of Magic texts record it -- the Department of Mysteries made certain everything would be shrouded in secrecy.â€
–Then where do your facts come from?†Neville pressed.
–As the Wizengamot’s senior stenographer, I witnessed much of the deliberations first-hand. They swore us all to secrecy, of course; threatened memory wipes if we spoke out of turn.â€
–Then are you --â€
–Afraid? Not anymore. As long as you don’t tell anyone else, Neville, no one will be the wiser. I mean it! No conversations with Dumbledore.â€
–Not me!†Neville cried. –My goal is to stay as far away from the Headmaster’s office as possible!â€
Augusta nodded her approval. She often regretted not trusting Frank with the secret, but he’d been a grown man when Voldemort first threatened the world. Neville needed her so much more; the time to pass the torch was upon her.
–We turned to the American Ministry for assistance, surmising that they wanted nothing more than to keep the troubles brewing in Europe from washing up on their own shores. The Yanks secured the services of an unknown Squib who had all the right qualities and then saw to it that her path crossed that of the playboy prince.â€
–But how could they guarantee anything?â€
–They hedged their bets,†Augusta confided. –For while this intrepid Squib was not a great beauty, she possessed something which others did not: a love potion. One of the few magical potions that affects wizards and Muggles alike.â€
–But she would’ve had to administer it for years on end,†Neville countered.
–And the Unspeakables who specialize in all aspects of love were only too happy to comply. That’s how the Department of Mysteries got involved.
–The plan succeeded splendidly. Within a year of his coronation, the new king renounced the throne to marry the woman he loved, an American commoner with two divorces to her credit. Totally unsuitable for royalty; it was the most brilliant detail of the plan!
–The next Royal in line opposed Hitler’s plans for world domination and the Second World War was launched, turning the tide against Grindelwald right on his own doorstep. Although Switzerland remained staunchly neutral in the conflict, the rest of Europe was embroiled in a deadly struggle. Many of Grindelwald’s followers were distracted by troubles in their own homelands. As the defeat of Herr Hitler loomed, Dumbledore took it upon himself to challenge Grindelwald for supremacy among wizards. Defeated in a duel that was rumored to have lasted over 24 hours, Grindelwald was imprisoned in the same fortress where he had once banished his own political enemies. Alone, with no one but the guards for company, it is uncertain how much of his sanity he’s been able to maintain.â€
Neville screwed his face up in thought. –But the Chocolate Frog cards imply that Dumbledore killed Grindelwald.â€
–Deliberate wording on their part, I always thought. But Dumbledore was adamant that no one be killed unnecessarily. Not Grindelwald, not the misguided Muggle prince. A measure of his greatness is that he would never stoop to the same tactics as his enemies.â€
–So that explains why Grandfather Lowell had a full shelf devoted to Nazi Germany,†Neville mused.
–I’m certain he’d be proud if you wanted to do some extra research on your own.â€
–Perhaps I will. Thanks for the history lesson, Gran. I can already see the parallels to You-Know-Who.â€
Neville spent hours reading at the seashore that summer. So much so, that Uncle Algie couldn’t help remarking on it.
–Getting a leg up in Muggle Studies,†Neville returned evenly.
–Good lad,†Algie praised. –Those NEWT-level courses can be brutal.â€
Neville waited until they were alone to point tersely to an article in The Quibbler about the Ministry’s recent relocation of werewolves to special encampments. –It’s the Jews and the Gypsies all over again!†he hissed.
Augusta didn’t mention that she’d caught a glimpse of the Prophet at the newsagent’s. The photo of the abandoned foundries where the undesirables were being housed bore a striking resemblance to Nazi death camps.
She predicted things would get grimmer as Neville returned to school. Nonverbal spell-casting was a difficult milestone; she remembered as much from her own youth. By his own account, Neville was more determined than ever to succeed -- if only to prove himself before Professor Snape’s disdainful glare.
Yet by the time of Neville’s sixth year, being summoned to the infirmary at term’s end had become an annual ritual of sorts -- rather like Lent or Maundy Thursday: one knew when they were nigh, but the exact day varied from year to year.
A handsome spotted owl interrupted her as she was washing up from a late breakfast. It flew off without waiting for a reply, leaving Augusta to hastily change her gardening smock before Flooing to the Three Broomsticks. She caught the whispers of the harried servers reassuring their clientele that Rosmerta was regrettably indisposed.
What a day to feel peaked! The woman should be gratified by the brisk trade -- especially in these uncertain times, Augusta grumbled to herself.
The knots of anxious people dotting the High Street made her quicken her steps in the direction of Hogwarts castle. Apprehension filled her lungs like an acrid smoke as the iron gates loomed before her.
Hagrid’s wooly face was not there to welcome her; instead, she was greeted by the deputy headmistress herself. The pinched look behind Minerva’s square spectacles spoke of long hours without sleep. Without preamble, she offered, –We had a bit of a situation last night.â€
Augusta blanched. –Surely, not Neville….â€
–No, no. Neville’s fine. A bump on the head and a few scratches at most. Poppy’s keeping an eye on him to be doubly certain. Others were not so lucky, I’m afraid,†she confided lowly.
Catching sight of the charred bones of the outlying structures and it all fell into place. –It’s Hagrid, isn’t it?â€
Minerva gave a solemn shake of her head, wringing her bony hands before her. –There was an accident of sorts. Dumbledore took a tumble from the Astronomy Tower and he’s… he’s…†She took a moment to compose herself, then uttered a single word, –Dead.â€
In Augusta’s mind, dire possibilities swirled into a maelstrom. How could this be? Hogwarts was the most secure magical stronghold in all of Britain!
–We were attacked. Our enemies ushered in by the careless actions of a student,†Minerva elaborated.
–The wise wizard I knew would’ve never allowed such a thing!†Augusta proclaimed.
Minerva concurred with a curt nod. –Albus could side-step all manner of dark magic, it’s true. But when it came to a trusted fellow, all of us were caught unawares.â€
–Does that mean the school grounds are no longer safe?†Augusta demanded as she trailed the acting headmistress up a private staircase.
–That’s what the Board of Governors will have to decide when they convene next month. It’s best if we wait for the results of the official investigation first. I trust I have your discretion.â€
Barely waiting for acknowledgement, the acting headmistress ushered Augusta in the direction of the Hospital Wing, then excused herself to tend to the next crisis.
Minerva’s brisk pace was still that of a much younger woman, Augusta noted silently. She would need to reconcile this formidable woman with her memories of the angular Head Girl obsessed with exotic cats.
The infirmary was empty except for one other bed which was screened off from view at the far end of the room. Augusta settled herself in a nearby chair to wait until Neville awakened of his own accord.
–You should be proud of your grandson,†Madame Pomfrey insisted as she notated the lad’s chart. –He fought alongside Dumbledore’s handpicked soldiers.â€
Caught off guard by the matron’s silent arrival, Augusta stammered, –Dumbledore’s Army?â€
–The real thing this time,†Remus Lupin attested, emerging from behind the screen. –An elite squad that included trained Aurors. Neville was a true asset.â€
There was no denying that intervening years had left their mark on the man. Still, the wrinkles around his eyes could just as easily herald someone who liked to laugh long and hard.
–Tripped over my own two feet,†Neville grumbled groggily.
–Are you still sucking on that tired old tale?†Remus cajoled. –You were hot on the enemy’s heels. It’s no shame to rebound against a magical barrier. Same thing happened to me minutes later; barely managed to sidestep that slick pool of blood.â€
–Minerva assured me the students’ injuries were minimal!†Augusta protested more forcefully than was strictly polite. –You make it sound like a regular abattoir!â€
Remus winced. –That was Bill,†he whispered. –Arthur Weasley’s eldest. Caught the brunt of a some hand-to-hand combat.â€
–Then that patch of red hair…†Augusta motioned in the direction of the enclosing screen. –…that isn’t Ron?â€
Avoiding the stern matron’s eye, Remus shook his head in reply. –We gave as good as we got it seems; one burly Death Eater dead. But somehow our losses seem greater…â€
–There’s no replacing Dumbledore,†Poppy Pomfrey sniffled into a hankie as starched as her uniform. –Not that Minerva isn’t as capable as they come.â€
Augusta waited until the matron’s duties had taken her to the other side of the room then cut across Neville’s words of welcome, –What I want to know is why a pack of school children were left to defend the castle against confirmed Death Eaters!â€
–To tell the truth,†Neville mumbled, –most everyone else was abed.â€
–Which is where you should’ve been, too!†Augusta hissed.
–In the lad’s defense,†Remus intervened gently, –he was summoned.â€
–Then I have you to blame?†Augusta countered.
–No, but we were glad for assistance, nevertheless. Likely, would’ve been sliced to ribbons otherwise.â€
–It’s not like that!†Neville attested. –We were doing a favor for Harry. He was convinced that Malfoy and Snape were both up to something --â€
–-- and none of the adults would listen,†Remus grimaced. –Believe me, I’ve gone over this in my mind a thousand times. Without concrete proof, the Heads couldn’t expel the likes of Draco Malfoy -- and Snape was a colleague of many years. You can’t just accuse people like that on a hunch.â€
–A hunch which proved to be correct,†Neville emphasized under his breath.
–True, but you yourself said that Harry was unable to convince even Ron and Hermione of his suspicions,†Remus postulated.
–Yet we all came to his aid when he called for Dumbledore’s Army. At least the main core group. He was convinced trouble was brewing.â€
–We felt it too as we patrolled the castle,†Remus acknowledged. –Like a storm festering on the horizon. Dumbledore doesn’t usually call for reinforcements when he leaves the castle on a wee field trip.â€
–Is that how he happened on the Astronomy Tower?†Augusta posed.
–Harry, too,†Neville added. –It was a private lesson they had every month or so.â€
–But to put his classmates in jeopardy like that…†Augusta clicked her tongue in outrage. Let them think her a clucking hen; at the moment, she didn’t care!
–He didn’t, Gran! Harry made certain we’d be safe; he insisted we each take a swig of the Felix potion he had.â€
–And where would a school lad find a stash of Felix Felicis?†Augusta demanded.
–He won it as a prize for brewing the finest potion in Professor Slughorn’s class,†Neville replied. –Hermione’s had her bun in a twist ever since.â€
–I can just imagine!†Remus chuckled wryly. Then in a more somber tone, he elaborated, –Why didn’t Harry take it himself? All these portents of catastrophe and he goes off unprepared…â€
–We asked him the same thing,†Neville returned. –He said he had his Invisibility Cloak. And what could be safer company than the most powerful wizard in all of Britain?â€
Remus sank into the nearest chair as if his legs had turned to rubber. Up close, Augusta noticed streaks of silver accenting his tousled locks. –Oh, Harry, what were you thinking? Didn’t you learn anything from Peter Pettigrew’s perfidy?â€
–I wager he did, Remus.†Madam Pomfrey laid a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. –That’s why Harry clung so tightly to his suspicions.â€
–Perhaps some chocolate, Professor.†Neville offered a shiny packet from the overflowing basket on his nightstand. –You always said it helped.â€
–That’s for dementors…†Remus replied in a thick voice. –Feels like we’ve been trampled by a whole herd, doesn’t it?â€
He broke off a corner of the chocolate frog and handed the rest to Augusta. By the time Madam Pomfrey returned it to Neville, only the head remained. Once quick gulp, and Dumbledore’s blue eyes sparkled back at them from the collector card nestled beneath.
Awestruck, Augusta remarked, –It’s almost as if he’s listening to us.â€
Madam Pomfrey nodded solemnly. –Albus always said they could strip him of everything as long as they didn’t tamper with his likeness on the chocolate frog cards. I often wondered whether they represented some alternate form of communication.â€
–Between Order members?†Remus finished. –We send messages by Patronus. Efficient and incorruptible.â€
–We shouldn’t lose sight of the children, that’s what Dumbledore meant,†Augusta ventured. –They hold the key to the future.†The man’s long career in education was a testament to that.
–He said as much to me,†Remus concurred. – ‘If all else fails, place your trust in Harry to see it through.’ I’d hate to think we’ve already violated that by not listening to the lad’s suspicions.â€
–Bollocks!†Filius Flitwick issued from the doorway. –Dumbledore insisted Snape was a reformed man; we trusted his judgment.†He waved off the matron’s attentions as she examined the lingering bruise on his forehead. –I haven’t grown horns overnight, you know!â€
Madam Pomfrey frowned in return. –You were waylaid by a traitor. Can you blame me for being suspicious?â€
–In retrospect, sending you to retrieve Severus wasn’t the wisest choice,†Remus apologized. –It just led him where he could do the most harm.â€
–Minerva was thinking we needed reinforcements once Bill was out of commission,†Flitwick argued. –Tell me, Neville, how did Snape seem to you in class?â€
Neville took a moment to consider his words. –Just as dour and cantankerous as ever.â€
Despite the circumstances, both Remus and Flitwick chortled appreciatively.
–Did he have an air of accomplishment?†Remus clarified. –Like a man who had finally achieved his long-range goals?â€
Neville shook his head.
–No, a clever spy wouldn’t have tipped his hand like that,†Remus considered. –What about his defensive lessons? Did you find them helpful?â€
–Challenging,†Neville corrected. –Even Hermione struggled, although she mastered nonverbal spells long before the rest of us. Not that it earned her any recognition. If anything, Snape’s scowl deepened.â€
–Sounds like business as usual,†Flitwick attested. –That man’s an endless enigma.â€
–It would’ve roused Dumbledore’s suspicions otherwise, I warrant. Yet I can’t help….†Remus fingered his stubbly chin, another sign that it had been a mostly sleepless night for all those involved.
–What, Remus?†Flitwick urged. –For a moment you sounded like you’d found the key to the whole sodding puzzle.â€
Remus gave a frustrated huff in response. –That’s puzzles, plural. An indeterminate string of conundrums that follow Snape like homing pigeons. Solve one and the next one rears its ugly head.â€
–By the way, Professor,†Neville volunteered. –I never properly thanked you. Without your lessons, I likely would’ve never made it through Professor Snape’s classes.â€
Remus’ returned a self-conscious smile. –It was nothing, truly. You did all the work. The incantation just relayed the image from your head to the boggart.â€
Augusta’s eyes drew wide at the implications: her grandson had been terrified of one of his teachers. Neville was hardly the most engaging student, but he applied himself diligently to his lessons. What manner of cruelty was this? –I’ve never understood why Dumbledore employed such a….monster,†she ventured aloud. –Forgive me, but there’s no other word for it.â€
–You’re not the first to express such doubts,†Flitwick concurred. –We’ve all learned to cope with our circumstances. Perhaps that’s the message the Headmaster wanted to impart to the students.â€
–The man sounds like a right tyrant,†Augusta pronounced in a clipped tone. –Is your consensus the same, Remus? How did you get on with the Professor of Doom?â€
He took a moment to choose his words carefully. –One doesn’t really ‘get on’ with Severus. One makes adjustments for his singular personality.â€
–Cut to the heart of the matter,†Augusta insisted. –A man’s dead because we skirted around the truth far too often.â€
Flitwick clapped Remus jovially on the back. –I’ve often said you’re much too diplomatic, old chap. Especially to those who don’t return the favor.â€
–Truly, Remus,†Madame Pomfrey conferred over her shoulder. –Killing the Headmaster and absconding with a student in tow is tantamount to a signed resignation!â€
Remus hesitated, clearly uncomfortable.
–He’s just recalling the fallout from that boggart lesson,†Flitwick presumed. –The whole school was a-twitter, including the teachers in the staff room.â€
–Don’t remind me,†Remus moaned. –Severus was denouncing my lack of proper decorum to everyone who would listen.â€
–Sophomoric theatrics we’ve all had to endure at one time or another,†Madam Pomfrey snorted.
–Consider it a rite of passage into the faculty,†Flitwick laughed. –Severus’ inky feathers don’t ruffle that easily.â€
–Student pranks he shakes off; but a slight by a colleague, that’s a different thing all together,†Remus supplied.
–And do you recall what Dumbledore counseled?†Madame Pomfrey prodded.
Remus nodded, all the while keeping his eyes on the floorboards. –Told Severus that it was all on his own bloody head, intimidating a student like that.â€
– ‘Perhaps you’d like to tend to Neville personally when he wakes up from a nightmare, Severus?’†Flitwick supplied in a fair imitation of Dumbledore’s breezy manner. – ‘Or do you agree that Remus’ solution is a lot less bothersome all around?’â€
–What did he do then?†Augusta urged.
–What else?†Remus replied. –In the next breath, he changed the subject.â€
–Another diatribe about another matter,†Flitwick recalled with a hint of nostalgia. –Severus’ dry delivery could be singularly amusing at times.â€
–Quirrell was turbaned in deceit and ineptitude,†Remus recited. –Lockhart was a blatant narcissist cloaked in the accomplishments of others!â€
Augusta had come to a similar conclusion while leafing through Neville’s copy of Wanderings with Werewolves, yet she couldn’t help but tender, –Then the Homorphus Charm to revert a werewolf to human form was a total fabrication?â€
Remus gave a grim nod. –What I’d give for it to be true! Could’ve curtailed that degenerate Greyback’s rampage before it made contact with Bill’s face.â€
–Is it that bad?†Augusta breathed, not wishing to disturb the young man behind the screen.
–Bad enough -- and it was only a quarter moon.â€
Hoping to recapture the previous levity, Flitwick recalled, –Severus nearly snarked himself into a stupor over Umbridge. The rest of us can be outspoken, but no one has the same biting flair. Why just last summer, Severus told Dumbledore that he’d better find a suitable Defense Against Dark Arts teacher or else. ‘The stench of Dolores Umbridge still permeates these halls,’†he intoned in a deep, resonant voice.
–Sounds just like something he’d say,†Poppy sighed
–That’s how Severus ended up with the post himself, or so we all thought,†Flitwick observed.
–Face it, the man played us all, Dumbledore included,†Remus declared.
Before he could elaborate, a smoky wolf-like shape bounded up to the foot of the bed. Running a long tongue over a mouthful of teeth, it looked Remus directly in the eye before expounding, –Duty awaits, Mr. Lupin. Back gate, ten minutes.â€
–Not another emergency?†Augusta cried.
Remus’ face broke into a radiant grin, the weariness washing away from his features. –That’s just Tonks. Promised to show me a Muggle public house nearby. Her dad swears it serves the best food in all of Scotland.â€
In two bounds, he was waving goodbye from the double doors leading out into the corridor, his jubilant face that of a much younger man.
–Enjoy your lunch, Remus,†Poppy enjoined with a barely concealed smirk.
–Can’t say I blame him,†Flitwick issued. –The Minister’s staff must be clogging the entire village.â€
–The Great Hall, too,†the matron clarified. –A select group in having luncheon with the acting headmistress.â€
–Blimey!†Flitwick complained. –You don’t think I could get some sandwiches sent to my private quarters…â€
–Don’t know about that,†Poppy returned. –Could have an extra plate sent up if you wanted to join Augusta and Neville here.â€
–What about… Bill?†Augusta prompted, although no sign of life could be heard from behind the privacy screen.
–I wouldn’t worry about Bill,†Poppy returned. –Molly promised to indulge his craving for rare roast beef.â€
–The only reason she’s not here yet is that it takes a while to cook such a large portion,†Flitwick whispered. –Mark my words.â€
By teatime, Poppy pronounced that Neville was fit to discharge.
–First hint of dizziness, you shoot yourself right back here.†She extracted a promise before relinquishing the lad’s trousers. –Even minor head trauma can have unsettling consequences.â€
The minute they were alone, Neville confided, –I was about to go crazy in that place. Too much going on to properly rest. The only distraction was Professor Lupin’s daring tales about my parents.â€
–So many of their exploits were secret,†Augusta allowed. –I’m glad Remus was able to flesh them out for you. Never struck me as the Auror type, though.â€
–Isn’t,†Neville mumbled.
–Then how…?†she trailed off as the full picture came into focus. Frank and Alice had been part of the Order -- just like Harry’s parents. Plenty of opportunity for them to work side-by-side with Remus on covert operations. Why hadn’t she seen it sooner?
–Tonks is the Auror,†Neville clarified. –Assigned to patrol the outskirts -- but never past the school gates. Frustrated her to no end, or so Ginny says.â€
–Dumbledore’s to blame for that.â€
–Remus, too. Tonks said he’s the most infuriating man she’d ever met. Ginny admits she should’ve caught on much sooner that those two fancied one another.â€
–Ginny told you all this?â€
–In strictest confidence, mind you. What would people think, otherwise?â€
–She sounds like a right busy-body,†Augusta harrumphed.
–Naw,†Neville protested. –I just tell it wrong. Mostly, Ginny’s our eyes and ears. Notices details most take for granted.â€
–Since when do we stick our noses into other people’s business? Your former professor at that!â€
–It was impossible not to. The two of them had a showdown right in the Infirmary.â€
–Weren’t you supposed to be asleep?â€
–The abrupt silence was deafening.â€
–People can say the oddest things in times of grief,†Augusta provided. –Everyone’s emotions still raw from the tragic events.â€
–The professor chastised Tonks for her timing. But by then, everyone had caught on.â€
Augusta indicated the basket of goodies that was weighing down Neville’s left side. –Who brought these?â€
–Dunno. It was there when I opened by eyes. Dozed off again and there was Ginny like a white apparition at my bedside. We only had a few minutes before Madam Pomfrey scolded her for being out of bed. Ginny brought me the gooey cockroach clusters.â€
–That’s revolting! Was she trying to prank you -- or just cause you to gag?â€
–Neither, they’re nougat covered in caramel. But her brothers make them look just like the real thing.â€
–Of course. The pranksters extraordinaire.â€
–Entrepreneurs, they’re calling themselves. Remember the joke shop in Diagon Alley?â€
How could she forget? The sheer delirium of all those gadgets vying for attention. Not to mention the garish colors numbing her eyeballs.
Diplomatically, she replied, –I’m sure they’re doing a thriving business. The darker times get, the more people need a good laugh.â€
–That’s what Hermione says. Then she shakes her head.â€
–How quickly can you pack your things for the return trip?â€
–The Hogwarts Express isn’t due until the weekend,†he balked. –My friends --â€
– -- are being whisked away by their parents even as we speak.â€
–Not the core group. We’re staying for Dumbledore’s funeral. It’s only fitting.â€
–Then we’d best see if your dress trousers require lengthening yet again,†Augusta insisted, pointing Neville in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. She could almost hear his eyes rolling in his head.