Forty - Five
Augusta Longbottom: Perseverance & Prophecy
Would this night -- no, nightmare -- ever end? It had to be close to dawn, Augusta calculated silently. She could feel the dampness in the air as it drew forth the weary ache in her bones.
All around her, the defenders of Hogwarts were busy with the last minute reprieve Voldemort had granted them -- as if industry could mask the starkness of their situation. There was no longer any doubt in Augusta’s mind: they were truly and utterly outmatched.
She purposely turned her back on the rows of dead heroes reverently laid out in the Great Hall. It didn’t matter; she was still haunted by their faces when she closed her eyes. So full of life only a few short hours ago… Minerva had shaken her head sadly at the small bundles of those who were clearly underage. Separated from their fellow evacuees or deliberately sneaking back, death had claimed them indiscriminately.
The poor Weasley twin who’d been in the wrong place when the wall collapsed. His family was so distraught as they formed a tight circle of grief. Others whose names had blurred when Neville hurriedly introduced her to the members of Dumbledore’s Army.
Beyond that, Remus and Tonks slept side-by-side for eternity -- when their lives together had only just begun. The unfairness of it clawed at Augusta’s heart. It was Frank and Alice all over again! How clearly she remembered Tonks gushing about her new baby, spirited eyes shining with happiness despite their dire circumstances. It had made the approach up that long, earthen tunnel so much more bearable.
A flurry of activity near the doors to the Entrance Hall -- nothing but a gaping maw now -- made everyone stop in mid-stride. Renewed hope against the crushing odds as a disoriented girl was found among the smoking ruins. Madam Pomfrey ministered to her as others broke off to join the fevered search for more survivors.
Like the vast majority, Neville returned empty-handed, offering a grim smile to those he passed. Still it was a marked improvement from the weary creases which had lined his face as he carried body after body to be deposited among the fallen.
She made a mental note to offer her services notifying the families when all was said and done. If they persevered, that is. If the armies of darkness emerged victorious, then she might not have any options at all.
As if sensing her bitter thoughts, Neville sat down at her side, clasping her hand reassuringly.
–It’s not as bad as all that, Gran,†he whispered. With a quick glance to check that no one was paying them any heed, he added lowly, –I passed Harry just now. He has a plan.â€
From the way he said it, Augusta instinctively understood that the situation called for utmost secrecy. She gave a squeeze in return but didn’t press her grandson further.
Luna soon joined them, flanking Neville’s other side and sandwiching his other hand in hers. It was a wordless comfort of sorts, Augusta allowed inwardly, unable to shake the notion that they were nothing but rats on the deck of a doomed freighter.
The echoing steps of approaching giants drew the ragtag defenders into the remains of the courtyard. Mist hung heavy at ground level, forming a lumpy blanket across the ravaged yard.
Like wraiths, the enemy materialized from the fog: a line of Visigoths ready to trample civilization beneath their boots. With predatory eyes, the Death Eaters were already relishing their impending victory. Recalling an escapee from a mental asylum, Bellatrix Lestrange licked her swollen lips, all the while bouncing like a child anticipating a rare treat.
Laughter like a thousand crows filled the air as one of Hogwart’s defenders detached himself and limped forward. Augusta clutched her chest in dismay. Not because the lifeless body of Harry Potter lay like a discarded scarecrow at the Dark Usurper’s feet. Nor because her grandson was valiantly announcing that the resistance would not die with their fallen leader.
No, it was the look that passed between Bellatrix and her dark master when she identified Neville as the son of –those Aurors.†Had the usurpers finally seen through the veil of that dastardly prophecy? With Harry gone, did Neville become The One?
Augusta lurched forward only to be frozen with a wave of Voldemort’s skeletal hand. In her ear, Pomona Sprout rasped, –Can you blame him? The poor lad’s harbored a revolution in his heart for months.â€
–Let them think he’s just errant schoolboy,†Minerva wisely counseled from the other side. –That’s not much of a threat.â€
Augusta barely nodded that she understood, her eyes riveted on the catastrophe that was unfolding before her. She, too, recognized that coming to Neville’s aid would just worsen the situation.
With the first grey fingers of dawn, chaos reigned. Somehow, Harry was still alive and Voldemort’s dastardly snake was not! The vile serpent’s head caught the light for a split second before thudding heavily to the ground. A wave of outrage rose from the dark ranks as the serpent’s sightless eyes were trampled underfoot.
Try as she might, Augusta could not keep Neville’s figure in sight as she dodged lethal spells from every direction. It was impossible to resist the press of bodies pushing them into the open arena where the Great Hall had stood.
It was like being in the Dueling Club once more, she reminded herself. Even if they were playing for the future of the wizarding world instead of a brass trophy.
Choreographed by some cosmic force, the individual skirmishes moved to the sidelines to allow Harry and Voldemort to claim the center. With the influx of the Hogsmeade villagers, the remaining Death Eaters were dispatched one by one. Those who didn’t fall before their attackers were handily tied up for transport to Magical Law Enforcement. It was impossible to tell how many had escaped into the countryside in the confusion -- later to claim they were not present, no doubt.
The hall grew deathly silent as the ultimate danse macabre demanded everyone’s attention. Harry’s insistence that Snape had never truly embraced Voldemort’s sinister conspiracy was difficult to swallow, yet Augusta silently applauded how it unnerved his opponent.
A final show of arrogance confirmed the Dark Usurper had not absorbed the essential elements of Harry’s words. With a humble disarming spell, the lad commanded the mightiest wand of all into his fist. Disbelief, then horror, slowly eclipsed the maniac’s smug sneer. Unable to cheat Death again, Lord Voldemort expired with a single rattling gasp.
Years later, it was difficult to recall the details of the tumultuous celebrations that ensued. No one seemed to recall that defeat had been all but assured an hour earlier. Augusta just remembered being so utterly drained that catching her breath required all her concentration. She was much too old for these all-night affairs, she mumbled wryly. What she most wanted was a comfy mattress. Breakfast could wait until the afternoon as far as she was concerned.
Finding a break in the seething jubilation, she staggered to the nearest bench. Someone pressed a mug of warm tea into her hands. Ernie, she thought, but didn’t say so aloud for fear of being wrong. Between slow sips, she observed the individual scenes before her.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy huddling with their son, Draco. They would never accept that their eleventh-hour surrender had made them instant pariahs with both camps. Those with such an overblown sense of entitlement never did.
Knots of boys debating the latest Quidditch standings. What could spell the return of normalcy more than that?
Minerva sidled next to her, praising Augusta’s role in the student evacuation.
–We owe a debt to Aberforth’s foresight,†Augusta detailed.
–Without a doubt,†Minerva concurred. –Harry’s original suggestion to Apparate in small groups would’ve proven unworkable within the allotted time.â€
In the next heartbeat, the acting headmistress was swirling like a monarch in her tartan dressing gown, offering an encouraging word to all her subjects.
Refusing to succumb to heavy eyelids, Augusta sought Neville among the ever-shifting quilt. The blood-red sparkle of rubies captured her attention. Gryffindor’s fabled sword lay on the long trestle table while Neville stared at it with an awestruck expression. Every few seconds, someone would stop to say a few words and the lad would nod and return a shy grin.
Augusta smiled into her teacup. That was one who’d never succumb to vanity, she concluded with satisfaction.
It was unclear how much time passed in that hazy state of exhaustion; but when she next looked up, Neville was gone from his spot. A wink of silver from the Headmistress’ side confirmed that the sword would be returned to its rightful place among the school’s artifacts.
Augusta swayed slightly as she took to her feet, but chose to ignore the sensation rather than indulge it. She passed a tight knot that included Horace Slughorn in conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt. She caught his eye and offered a word of thanks for rousing the reinforcements. She left feeling certain that Horace would share the details of Voldemort’s heinous plots with the surviving members of the Order. It would make for a rousing interrogation of the Carrow siblings; she was almost sad she would surely miss it.
Minerva understood without being told as Augusta drew near. –I sent Neville in search of owls. First thing these students need is to send notes to their families. Nothing reassures like a few hasty words scribbled in a child’s own hand.â€
Augusta’s feet knew the path to the Owlery. Or rather they had before the entire floorplan had been reshuffled into a giant puzzle. She quickly abandoned the moving staircases as unreliable. She’d just work her way across the open quadrangle and approach the Owlery from the other side. A tumble of granite boulders barred her from the rear loggia, however. Levitating them one by one was too much effort, she decided, turning towards an adjacent corridor.
The scarred battlements were even more horrific in the soft morning light. Too much smoke still lingered in the air for the sunlight to fully penetrate to the lower levels. Like chasing phantoms in a dream, Augusta negotiated an alternate route, but it was as if everything shifted the moment her back was turned. More than once she lost her way and had to rely upon the portraits to guide her. Even the familiar faces and landscapes were not where she recalled. But whether this was another battle souvenir or just Filch’s rearrangement was impossible to tell.
For the briefest moment, she considered an aerial reconnaissance but allowed that her body wasn’t up to it. What would the bird see but a charnel pit?
Instead, she sought a frazzled witch who just shook her head, continuing to stir her cauldron with a palm tree that had been dislodged from an adjoining painting.
–Has anyone seen my grandson, Neville?†she cried. Her plea was repeated a number of times before it finally elicited a response.
–Such rogues to abandon a damsel in distress!†a knight astride a smallish pony offered as he cantered down the long line of paintings. –Sir Cadogan won’t abandon you!â€
Taken aback, Augusta stammered, –Thank you….kind sir. Have you seen Neville Longbottom?â€
There was the distinct look of relief in the pony’s eyes as Sir Cadogan dismounted. –Name seems familiar, but I can’t rightly place it. Any distinguishing characteristics?â€
–Dark hair, tall. Gryffindor House.â€
–Hmm…†He rubbed his scraggly beard in thought. –House prefect is a girl, I seem to recall. He’s not a first or second year, is he?â€
–Seventh.â€
–They’re all tall by seventh year. What makes him unique?â€
–He leads a group called Dumbledore’s Army. More a gang of dissidents, really.â€
–Can’t say that rings a bell, alas. Perhaps Sir Nicholas can help. Tight with the Gryffindors, he is; sumptuous rooms in the lowest dungeon of their tower. I’ll send him this way.†With a loud clatter of armor, he hoisted his rotund body atop the pony and trotted off once more.
Augusta picked her way across the lower gallery, avoiding the areas where the stone banisters had collapsed. The diaphanous shape of Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, wafted around the next corner.
–Beastly with names,†he confessed as he directed her in a roundabout direction. –The Owlery, I know. Keep clear of it, myself. Such a bother getting the stains out of brocade, you know.â€
Recalling how particular Sir Nicholas could be, Augusta commiserated, –Didn’t know ectoplasm absorbed impurities.â€
–Leeches them, more like. All sorts of details they don’t tell you beforehand. A ghost’s existence is hardly a lark, you know.â€
Trying a different tack, Augusta posed, –Have you seen anyone else moving down these same halls?â€
The ghost’s head wobbled dangerously as he shook his head to the negative. –But I know all the Gryffindors.â€
–Just not by name.â€
–Not so much since I entered my sixth century. I give them nicknames to tell them apart.â€
–Names you bestow yourself?â€
–Precisely.â€
Determined that a guessing game with a ghostly cavalier was not going to defeat her, Augusta seized on the inspiration at her feet. –See the brush stroke on that chunk of plaster? Likely it’s part of a larger slogan painted by my grandson, Neville.â€
–Ah, the Midnight Michelangelo, I call him. Recall seeing him from the ramparts in the company of a blonde girl.â€
Of course! Luna would be anxious to send a note to her father. Word was that the poor man was still under house arrest -- and who knew what sort of dire news the wireless was reporting!
–But don’t ask the paintings,†Nick leaned over to confide. –They know your grandson by a different name: the Apprentice.â€
–The Apprentice?â€
–Technically, it’s Peeves’ Apprentice, but it’s risky saying that name.â€
–Last I saw, the pesky fellow was quaking in one of the overlarge vases on the seventh floor.â€
–Probably lying in shards now. Poltergeists and crockery, bad combination, you know.â€
–Why the Apprentice?†she urged, following Nick doggedly up a secret staircase.
–Because he’s been creating such havoc. A job description which used to belong to… someone else.â€
–Hogwarts is renowned for its pranksters.â€
–Not ones who set the teachers’ teeth on edge. Not all the teachers, mind you, just those new ones we don’t like.â€
–The Carrows?â€
–The new Headmaster, too. The Anti-Albus, I call him. The shadow of Severus Snape has haunted these halls for a long time.â€
And he may for years to come to judge by the grisly manner of his death. Augusta refrained from voicing her thoughts lest it distract the ghost from his errand. He would have to review the stark remains in the Great Hall on his own time.
Aloud, she ventured, –Are you certain this is the way to the Owlery?â€
Hidden behind a tapestry, an unfamiliar passage festooned with cobwebs lay before her. The otherworldly luminescence of her guide served as the sole lantern to guide her steps.
–It’s a longish short-cut to be sure,†Nick allowed. –Best to circle around the Quidditch Pitch and then duck behind the Astronomy Tower. The way your grandson did it.â€
–Why didn’t you say so sooner?†Augusta huffed.
–You were already too far afield.†With a flourish of his plumed hat, Sir Nicholas indicated the open archway to her left. Shards of colored glass dangled from the lead frame indicating that a stained glass window had once stood there.
And there they were, indeed. She had no trouble recognizing the dark head and the buttercup one, even though their backs were turned.
A tall tumble of stones was all that remained; only the whitish stains and bits of clinging down identified it as the Owlery. There was no sign of the open steps which had once wound around the tower walls, though. Neville and Luna were perched atop a large chunk of collapsed wall which had formed a bridge of sorts. Augusta spied a pair of riding brooms leaning against the castle framework.
The sky was heavy with owls. Uncertain whether to accept the bits of burnt toast on offer, their luminous eyes still shone with outrage at the loud noises of the night before. With a wordless incantation, Augusta righted an overturned bench and settled it near the opening, moving as soundlessly as possible so as not to spook the birds.
She held her breath as a barn owl landed not four feet from Neville’s outstretched fingers. In his softest voice, Neville complimented its beautiful bronze feathers. The bird took a few tentative hops closer to claim its prize. Emboldened, it accepted a second offering.
With patient fingers, Luna stroked its velvety head. The bird cocked its head as it spied the rolled parchment. Its curved beak tapped her knuckles to demand more food before holding its leg out obligingly for the message.
Tossing the owl into the air, the girl turned to face Neville. Augusta issued an involuntary gasp.
It was not Luna!
Startled herself, the blonde girl turned frightened eyes in Augusta’s direction. –I’ve no need of ghosts in the daylight,†she warned.
Neville took a tentative step closer, peering into the murky depths of the truncated corridor. –Gran, is that you?†With a nervous laugh, he amended, –For a second there, I thought you were the Grey Lady!â€
Augusta looked down at her violet skirt. The taffeta was covered in a thick layer of ash, her sleeves and fingers as well. With a small shiver, she sent a wordless Scourgify to make herself presentable. The displaced dust formed a small circle at her feet.
–Much better,†Neville pronounced. –Though I doubt any of us are at our best this morning.†Catching the unspoken looks between the two women, he added, –I forgot you two haven’t met. Gran, this is Hannah Abbott. You remember my writing to her over the summer.â€
–Of course,†Augusta replied, automatically rising to her feet, then faltering when she saw the true chasm between them. Thirty feet below, broken glass shone like deadly jewels.
–My pleasure,†Hannah returned, smoothing the wispy tendrils from her face self-consciously. –Neville’s been catching me up on the events of the school year. Hard to believe they could be worse than the one before.â€
Augusta recalled that Death Eaters had killed the unfortunate girl’s mother and she’d been sent home even though her sixth year had barely begun. Another member of Dumbledore’s Army to be sidelined by tragedy. Neville had taken it upon himself to keep Hannah abreast of the goings on at Hogwarts in an effort to stem her frustration.
–Haven’t had an opportunity to send an owl since Christmas,†Neville clarified.
That brought Augusta up short. –Didn’t the recent edict require your return to school, dear?â€
Hannah nodded dejectedly. –Fulfilled my most fervent wishes. Didn’t care for the new teachers, though. And my father was adamant that no bureaucrat was going to dictate his daughter’s future.â€
–I can’t imagine that sat well with the Ministry,†Augusta commented.
–Enraged them to no end,†Hannah supplied. –Even dragged us before a disciplinary hearing headed by Dolores Umbridge. She couldn’t wait to weigh in about what a troublemaker I was. But Father held firm, claiming that NEWT-level classes had always been optional. Even produced an official withdrawal notice which I didn’t remember signing. But I wasn’t about to argue with Dumbledore’s signature in bright green ink.â€
–Did that convince them?†Augusta posed.
–Not really. Just gave rise to a whole slew of legal arguments about the specifics of the mandatory attendance decree.â€
–But you persevered in the end, didn’t you?†Augusta posited.
Hannah concurred, –By the queerest set of circumstances.â€
–This is the best part!†Neville confided lowly.
Hannah flashed a smile in his direction before continuing, –Here we were mired in the third or fourth hour of legalities -- an eternity, it seemed like -- and this little black envelope deposits itself right before the chairwoman’s eyes. You know, one of those Dark Denouncers.â€
Augusta nodded grimly. She’d heard of those, all right: touted by Thicknesse’s administration as an expedited method to cut through bureaucratic red tape. Unofficially, they were to encourage ‘upstanding citizens’ to report their neighbor’s questionable activities. Detailed inquiries were then launched into both parties, the accuser as well as the accused. It had been one of the cautionary stories in The Quibbler before it ceased publication about the time of Luna’s abduction.
–Well, the little envelope unfolded itself and I recognized Snape’s voice,†Hannah continued. Desist your pointless bickering. Next time, choose your words with more care. One girl is meaningless. If you persist, we may be forced to reinstate others who withdrew without completing their NEWT-levels. Need I remind you of what insolent reprobates those Weasley twins are?â€
Neville gave a hearty guffaw. –That’s so like Snape! Insults you in the same breath that he grants you a favor.â€
–Needless to say, Father wasn’t too keen on me heeding the call from Dumbledore’s Army last night,†Hannah supplied. –That owl should set his mind at ease. He’ll be on his way to work about now.â€
–Looks like you two found the short-cut I missed,†Augusta remarked, nodding towards the two brooms.
–Thanks to Hannah,†Neville supplied. –It was her idea we go by way of the Hufflepuff Common Room.â€
–Only after we abandoned Luna’s idea of finding the delivery tunnel leading to the back gate. Dungeon’s flooded in places.â€
–The Headmistress ordered all wall sconces remain unlit due to ventilation issues. Luckily, Hannah could find her way by wandtip.â€
–Not the first time I’ve wandered after hours to get a snack. Thankfully, the area near the common room was virtually untouched. Only thing handy in the kitchen was leftover toast, though. From there, we exited near the Quidditch equipment shed.â€
–But to bother the elves at a time like this,†Augusta chided. –A battalion of house-elves is one for the record books.â€
–They were so enthralled when Luna told them how Dobby had died a right hero,†Neville explained.
–Dobby?†Augusta couldn’t recall the name.
–Another house-elf. Once belonged to the Malfoys until Harry liberated him. Long story, really,†Neville conceded. –But without Dobby, everyone would still be in the dungeon at Malfoy Manor. Luna, Dean, Harry, Ron, Hermione, even Mr. Ollivander. Dobby helped them escape from the clutches of his former masters.â€
–I take it his masters took offense,†Augusta noted.
–Bellatrix again,†Neville replied darkly.
–Luna was present at Dobby’s funeral,†Hannah provided. –We left her in the kitchen as she was retelling how Harry had dug Dobby’s grave single-handedly by moonlight.â€
–On the seashore, don’t forget,†Neville offered. –The other elves are preparing a special feast in Dobby’s honor; Luna stayed to help.â€
–And why not the two of you?â€
In a low whisper, Neville detailed, –House-elves are tetchy about their duties; just ask Hermione. Luna was invited to assist, like a guest of honor in their eyes.â€
–Neither Neville nor I were part of Dobby’s adventures, so we were excluded. It would’ve been rude to barge in,†Hannah asserted. –While we’re on the subject of unsung heroes, do you think all those things Harry said about Snape are true?â€
–I’m not ready to accept that scoundrel’s been on our side all along,†Augusta replied. –Not without some corroborating evidence.â€
–Harry’s never wavered from the truth,†Neville insisted. –Not with something as important as this…†He hesitated as if something were troubling him, then blurted, –Why did you never tell me about the prophecy, Gran? Dumbledore must’ve warned my parents just like he did the Potters.â€
Caught in the crosshairs, Augusta was at a loss for words. Those were dark times. Those actions faded long into the past. I thought you had been spared. All inadequate, she sighed, choosing to hold her tongue before that steely gaze that was so unlike her grandson.
–Harry filled me in this morning,†Neville expounded. –Or rather, warned me that others would likely see me in a new light. Yet you’ve known for years.â€
–A blueprint for a madman,†Augusta sputtered. –Should we allow him to lead us on the same deranged path?†Into the silence, she volunteered, –You know I don’t hold with prophecy. It was nothing.â€
–It was everything,†Neville returned, his voice thick with the swirling smoke and dust. –I risked my life to retrieve that sodding prophecy!â€
Augusta didn’t dare tell him how relieved she’d been that a clumsy misstep had destroyed the vile thing forever. No more could it be used as a twisted tool to further a maniac’s lust for power.
Starkly, Neville provided, –It shaped the last seven years of my life just as much as Harry’s. Two boys born at the end of July, two sets of parents who had defied You-Know-Who at every turn.â€
Tugging at his sleeve, Hannah implored, –Perhaps Dumbledore swore her to secrecy…â€
–That wouldn’t’ve mattered if Gran thought I needed to know.†He turned to address Augusta more directly. –Why then?â€
–I thought the danger was past,†she defended. –Harry had been marked as the Chosen One, not you.â€
–Why did the Death Eaters come knocking on our door then?â€
Augusta squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to relieve those nightmarish hours. –They were unwilling to accept their master’s demise,†she relented.
–Then they should’ve questioned the Ministry officials who made the pronouncement. Why our door?â€
–Your parents were involved with the Order of the Phoenix. The Death Eaters assumed -- wrongly -- that Frank and Alice had helped vanquish their leader.†She hadn’t known that at the time, but what did it matter?
–There were other members of the Order. Harry showed me the old photo with my parents among the ranks. Why not Mad-Eye? Hagrid?†Neville supplicated.
There were no adequate words of comfort. Instead, Augusta scoffed, –Who can know what runs through the minds of such lunatics? Their grasp on reality was tenuous at best!â€
–I’ll tell you why, Gran. Because my parents were to be next. Sweep the Potters out of the way and they were the next obstacle. Both sets of parents protecting their sons.â€
–But you weren’t there! I’d taken you into hiding.â€
With a cold pragmatism that made Augusta wince, Neville returned, –They would’ve tortured my parents just the same. Two boys. It wasn’t either/or, Gran. It was both. TWO boys,†he repeated like a mantra. –It had been nagging at Harry for months: what if Dumbledore’s interpretation were wrong? He’s the one to bear the lightning scar, true. But who can argue that the torture of my parents left an equally indelible scar? Both of us are marked because of that madman’s actions! That’s why Harry made certain I’d know about the snake. So that when the time came, both of us would have a hand in Voldemort’s downfall.â€
–Dumbledore never shared the exact wording of the prophecy with me, perhaps your parents knew, but not me. We were running from a danger that might never manifest; we just had to be ready.â€
–And afterwards?†Neville persisted. –When we visited St. Mungo’s on holidays?â€
Recognizing her grandson’s quest for answers amid the dregs of destruction, Augusta considered, –Let’s assume for a moment that I could recite the exact wording of this prophecy. How exactly would these details have benefited you?â€
–Harry’s godfather died because of our misguided efforts,†Neville argued.
–A sad circumstance, to be sure. We all sympathize with Harry’s loss.†Augusta took a deep breath before sloughing on, –But that’s an oversight that Harry should’ve taken up with Dumbledore. Do you think if you’d relayed the prophecy to your friend right then and there it would’ve changed the course of events?â€
Neville took a moment to ponder, a small frown forming at the corners of his mouth. –I would’ve been better prepared.â€
–How exactly? Other than actually surrendering the prophecy to the Death Eaters, what other action on your part could’ve turned the tide?â€
–They would’ve hounded you as relentlessly as they did Harry,†Hannah interjected.
–Don’t you see, Neville?†Augusta insisted. –You would’ve just painted a target on your back. Better that you wait in the shadows until the time was right.â€
–Your gran’s got a point, Neville,†Hannah concurred. –This way the Death Eaters couldn’t anticipate you until it was too late.â€
–A secret weapon of sorts?†The first vestiges of a smile were tugging at the corner of Neville’s eyes.
–Didn’t you just tell me that you didn’t work out the last of it until just now?†Hannah pressed. –The part about the ‘power that the Dark Lord knew not.’â€
–That’s what they get for assuming I was nothing but a wool-headed tosser,†Neville returned with a sheepish grin. –As if I’d ever allow myself to be sorted into Slytherin.â€
–You were magnificent in that moment, Neville,†attested Hannah.
Augusta affirmed, –A better cricket stance I never saw. When that blade made contact with the snake, I fully expected the whack of a wooden bat.â€
–It was Hagrid’s cry that distracted everyone’s attention,†Neville explained. –I just acted on instinct. And sheer, dumb luck.â€
–I think we’re all feeling extraordinarily lucky this morning,†Augusta sighed. –Now that Hannah’s put her father’s mind at ease, let’s say we get some breakfast. My mouth is parched from all this dust.â€
–And sausages. I could really do with a plate of sausages,†Neville remarked as he brushed the granite dust from his backside. –You aren’t afraid to ride behind me, are you, Gran?â€
Augusta raised her hands in protest, claiming that her own extremities had always served her just fine. In the next moment, she was gliding on long, sooty wings to the ground. She doubted she could’ve gone any further, but it had awed the young ones nevertheless.
–Gran, I never -- †Neville stammered as he dismounted from his broom.
–Never asked, you mean,†Augusta harrumphed, shaking the last sensation of feathers from her fingertips.
–No wonder Professor McGonagall said you set great stock by Transfiguration. Sorry I’m such a disappointment in that department,†Neville returned.
–Don’t be a silly goose! You’ve plenty of other stellar qualities!â€
Now that she had resumed human shape, the circling owls swooped lower to investigate this strange creature among them. Motioning to the others to ignore the birds, Augusta directed the procession towards the Great Hall while the inquisitive owls swept behind them like a dark cloud.
Gauging her grandson’s reaction out of the corner of her eye, she ventured, –Did you know the portraits have given you a nickname? Peeve’s Apprentice.â€
Hannah broke out in laughter as Neville issued a long-suffering sigh. –That explains a lot, actually.â€
–Do tell!†Hannah insisted.
–Cryptic messages left on the fogged up shower mirror, even when I was completely alone. Something to the effect that ‘mayhem should be a vocation, not a hobby.’â€
–A slogan in return for yours,†Hannah considered.
–Can’t deny that it spurred Peeves’ ingenuity. He zeroed in on the Carrows, creating ice slides in the corridors when they were least expecting it. Oil spills on the steps which miraculously disappeared when Filch arrived with a soapy mop. Not to mention the infestation of dungbombs in both their classroom walls. Rather underscored their teaching abilities!â€
–Did he harrass the Headmaster?†Augusta posed, trying to keep a straight face.
–Not if he didn’t want to end up in Snape’s cauldron!â€
–A potion that calls for stewed poltergeists?†Hannah giggled.
With a wry laugh, Neville supplied, –Don’t put it past Snape to improvise!â€
Life was forever changed after that. As much as they had all yearned to return to their normal lives in Voldemort’s wake, there was no turning back the tide of time.
Augusta returned home long enough to repack her belongings and then hustled Neville into a long-deserved holiday with Algie and Enid. Truth be told, she’d been shocked at the state of the house in the few months she’d been away. Had the Death Eaters taken out their frustrations on the old half-timbered walls after she’d narrowly escaped their clutches?
A long conversation with Enid placed things in better perspective. –Tell me honestly, Augusta, when was the last time you did any upkeep on that monstrosity of a house?â€
–The vegetable garden was laid out in neat rows when I left. Looks like it’s been trampled by trolls.â€
–And I daresay the weeds are choking the flowerbeds that were perfectly groomed.â€
–Likely so; didn’t do a full inventory.â€
–Weren’t the roof shingles already in disrepair?†Enid prodded.
The better to bombard her enemy’s head, she recalled. –I may have worsened that myself.â€
As much as she’d like to blame the house’s sorry state on her attackers, the truth was she’d devoted most of her resources to raising her grandson. Gardening had always been a favorite pastime so that had been her refuge in stressful situations.
Had she enough in her Gringott’s vault to counteract nigh on two decades’ worth of neglect?
She didn’t say anything to Neville. Doubtless, the lad never noticed as he retired to his shabby attic room to revise for his NEWT examinations the minute they returned home. How and when they would be offered was still undecided, but that was no excuse to be unprepared.
The summons to high tea with the new Headmistress was totally unexpected. After all, she and Minerva hadn’t stayed in touch after school. And they’d hardly been friends, then; friendly rivals would be more to the point.
Concluding that the invitation likely had something to do with Neville’s aborted seventh year schooling, Augusta firmly pinned her most presentable hat atop her silver curls and took one last look in the mirror. It would be a welcome change to Floo directly to the Headmistress’ office as a special accommodation.
Augusta was expecting other parents to be present, but that assumption also turned out to be wrong.
–Everything’s still up in the air,†Minerva replied with a dismissive wave. –Out of my hands actually. Board of Governors needs to do something to earn their keep. I actually asked you here for a different reason.â€
Augusta waited for her to proceed, but instead Minerva took an unexpected detour. –Is it true you can change yourself into a bird? When Horace told me about it, I didn’t know what to think.â€
–A vulture, to be exact.â€
–Little beady eyes and all that?â€
At Augusta’s nod, Minerva clapped her hands in gleeful approval. –Registered?â€
–Yes. But I didn’t think to bring my card. Assuming I can find it in the back of my cupboard.â€
–Ministry can issue a duplicate,†Minerva reassured.
–Why does it matter?†Augusta huffed. –That unofficial competition ended nearly sixty years ago. You were the only one who managed the Animagus transformation before the end of seventh year. Dumbledore was so proud, claiming he’d only had one other student who’d managed it.â€
–Something he remembered fondly when he offered me his Transfigurations post at the time he was promoted to Headmaster. I was at a loss for what to do with myself after Duncan’s passing; children and grandchildren were all grown. I remember you attended the memorial service; am I right, Augusta?â€
Augusta nodded. –Read about it in the Prophet.†Silently, she considered that it had been the only time they had seen each other out of school. At least until Neville had started at Hogwarts.
–With Neville all but finished with his schooling, I expect you find yourself at a similar crossroads,†Minerva proffered. –Now that I’ll be taking over as Headmistress, I’d like to continue Albus’ tradition and offer my post to you.â€
–Me?†Augusta gaped.
–No one else in this room,†Minerva chuckled. –Unless you consider the ghosts. And one ghostly teacher on the faculty is quite enough, don’t you think?â€
As they discussed the possibility over genial plates of petit fours and cucumber sandwiches, it dawned on Augusta that this might just allow her to put aside enough galleons to complete a regular refurbishment of the house. If she persevered, that is.
–I’m hardly a spring lamb,†she reminded Minerva.
–Who is? But if there’s one thing I’ve noticed as teachers come and ago, age has little to do with it. It’s all in your approach to life. And something tells me that the threat of a stern guardian watching from the skies will keep the students in line.â€
–And the rule-breakers?â€
–You’ll always have some of those. An overabundance of zeal for life, that’s what Albus used to say.â€
–Sounds like he regretted punishing them.â€
–Not always,†Minerva confided. –But how you handle the infractions is up to you. Only excessive punishments are banned. Creativity is allowed, encouraged even.â€
–Creativity?†Augusta mouthed incredulously.
–Filius has been known to prank his students in return. Never underestimate the power of embarrassment as a motivating factor.†With a twinkle reminiscent of Dumbledore himself, Minerva added, –Just make certain it’s all in good fun. Demean them and we’ll have another boggart donning your trademark hat and handbag!â€
Augusta found herself energized by the youthful exuberance of the classroom. Voldemort’s defeat had even helped to tone down the Slytherins’ marked arrogance. Not that she didn’t encounter the occasional miscreant, but Augusta found that they taxed her ingenuity more than her patience.
Once the younger teachers had left the school grounds to be with their families, the Old Guard convened for the evening’s entertainment in the staffroom. Both Minerva and Pomona were old hats at bridge, creating a formidable team that was difficult to surpass. That is until Figgy introduced them to a Muggle card game called Hearts. Teams were abandoned for free-for-all play as they each avoided being stuck with the Queen of Spades, otherwise known as ‘the bitch.’
Though Hagrid was no stranger to cards, it was well known that he preferred the ‘gentlemen’s games’ held at the Hog’s Head for a two sickle minimum. Only if the weather was particularly nasty would he consent to a chess match, preferring to use a novelty set comprised entirely of red and blue dragons. Augusta had no difficulty in distinguishing the tiny fire lizard pawns, and the king and queen could be identified by their gold and silver collars; but the rest of the dragons looked identical to her. In a game that called for unique moves by each game piece, it was a testament to Filius’ skill that he was able to hold his own amid the inevitable smoke and flash fires. Once the match was concluded, the individual pieces herded themselves peacefully into their pens and all the scorch marks miraculously disappeared from the gaming table.
Weary of losing to Filius at wizard chess, Horace and Elphias soon joined in the rousing card games. Hagrid was not so easily converted. Not until Filius commissioned a special deck of cards with Dolores Umbridge as the Queen of Spades, that is.
Even though the Joker, fashioned in Peeves’ likeness, must be set aside in game play, the poltergeist felt suitably honored that he no longer sabotaged card games as he had in the past.
The biggest shock of all was when the reclusive Sybill Trelawney made an unprecedented appearance.
–I’ve Seen that you have a marked preference for card games,†she began in her characteristic ephemeral tone. –I’ve brought a gift from previous generations.†With that, she emptied the contents of her satchel in the center of the table. A dozen or more sets of Old Maid cards tumbled forth. –What passes for humor among my students,†she added, unnecessarily.
–I’m certain it was only meant in jest,†Figgy consoled.
–Did you exact punishment for their cheek?†Minerva posed.
–No need, really,†Sybill returned with a self-satisfied air. –I’d already Seen them tending to slews of bawling babies while their husbands chased skirts in the pub.â€
–Surely you didn’t share that?†Pomona inquired.
–It was there in the Orbs if they just opened their eyes. But no, I kept silent except to remind them that they shouldn’t be so judgmental.â€
–What about the boys?†Rolanda Hooch prompted with a sardonic lift to her eyebrow.
Sybill took a moment to consider her reply. –Usually their pranks are more…physical in nature.†At the encouraging nods all around, she elaborated, –Biting teacups, exploding seat cushions which emit a foul odor. Luckily, my braziers are spelled to compensate with extra doses of sandalwood. Later I would glimpse their grey faces in the Beyond, trudging home from thankless jobs to dour wives and unkempt children. In their eyes were reflected dreams of furtively letting themselves a tidy bachelor’s flat, if only they could put enough aside.â€
Minerva was doing her best to avoid catching anyone’s eye, convincing Augusta that she, too, had come to a similar conclusion: Clearly, Sybill augmented her modest prognostication skills with a vivid imagination.
–Would you care to join us?†Horace issued as a wave of his wand gallantly pulled a chair out for her to sit.
–Only if you teach me the game that belittles the Dreadful Dolores,†Sybill insisted.
–Heard of that, have you?†Filius teased.
–From Peeves,†Sybill attested, entirely missing the pun.
–I thought you detested that little man,†Minerva rejoined.
–Still do. Creates a cosmic disturbance everywhere he goes. Have to seed the air with sneezing powder when I See him coming.â€
–Isn’t the incense enough?†Augusta posed with a wry cough.
–Not always,†Sybill returned matter-of-factly. –His fear of heights makes him avoid the windows. But one mighty sneeze and he propels himself from the ramparts every time.â€
–Pity you didn’t try that technique on Umbridge,†Filius concurred. –Might’ve shortened her reign of terror.â€
–That toad already had it in her head that I was a fraud,†Sybill replied. –Why encourage her?â€
Sybill gave an involuntary gasp when the newly-styled Queen of Spades card straightened the pink and black bow perched among her lacquered hair. –You don’t think she’s…spying on us still?†she shuddered.
–From her abysmal cell in Azkaban?†Minerva returned with a grimace. –I had enough of that toad to last me a lifetime!â€
–Multiple lifetimes,†Pomona sniggered.
–You don’t see any of the other cards moving, do you?†Filius soothed.
–No…but…well… Dumbledore’s practically unnerving,†Sybill blubbered. –The way he stares at you with those piercing blue eyes…â€
–Different set of cards,†Filius harrumphed. –No comparison really. Dumbledore had unplumbed talents; Dolores is just an officious busybody.â€
–A thoroughly unpleasant…witch,†Sybill relented. –Her aura as black…â€
–As spades,†Minerva finished handily. –Predestined, one could say.â€
With blissful cards on the brain, Augusta finally succumbed to sleep on the eve of her grandson’s wedding. All too soon, a soft knock on the door indicated that it was already mid-morning. Much to her relief, Enid let herself into the room with a breakfast tray for the two of them to share.
–It’s much too rowdy downstairs,†she confessed. –The men have commandeered the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The bride’s father claims to be quite skilled with a fry pan.â€
–Since his wife’s untimely death,†Augusta supplied through groggy lips. She made a mental calculation that there were twelve overnight wedding guests.
–They promised to have it all cleaned up before the caterers arrive.â€
Augusta nodded. With a bit of household magic, kitchen clean-up was hardly a daunting task. Nevertheless, she’d prefer to not have scrubbing dishes in the sink during the formal wedding preparations.
Merry giggles could be heard from the other side of the house as the bride’s cousins assumed the hair dressing duties. Augusta had put the girls in the master bedroom, not that anyone recognized it as such since Frank’s and Alice’s belongings had been stashed in the attic. The chintz bedspread and upholstery were not to Augusta’s more classical tastes, but it had been important to allow the new bride to outfit her room in whatever manner she saw fit. Once fashions changed, she would no doubt want to redo it as many did.
Augusta preferred to save herself the bother by selecting more timeless trappings from the onset, but she recognized that everyone was different. Neville approved of his fiancée’s choices and that was all that truly mattered.
Her own preparations didn’t take long, allowing Enid to join her for another pot of tea on the small balcony. With a bird’s eye view of the back lawn, they chatted amicably as the coordinated wand movements of the wedding furbishers laid out rows of white chairs in mere minutes. The weaving of the gossamer scarves to create an open marquee was a more elaborate procedure. Fairy veils, they were called. Guaranteed that should rain present itself, the water resistant cloth would automatically expand to close any gaps.
With clear skies, it was unlikely such a precaution would be needed, leading Enid to admit that she was a little disappointed she wouldn’t get to witness it.
Looking dapper in his formal robes, Algie squeezed himself between them so that Augusta could point out his nephew’s more notable friends among the arriving guests.
–You can always spot the Weasleys by their fiery hair,†Augusta supplied. –The elegant lass with the curly black mane is Angelina Johnson; word is that she and George Weasley will be the next to announce their engagement. The one with the long nose is Ron, he was Neville’s dorm mate at school. His wife, Hermione, was Head Girl once she returned to Hogwart’s for her final year. No contest there, really. And the one with the long, shiny hair is Ginny, Harry’s wife.â€
–Harry Potter?†Algie asked unnecessarily as he strained to get a better look.
Augusta nodded. –Harry was Neville’s dorm mate, too.†She smiled at the memory of Neville’s wry comment after escorting Ginny to the Yule Ball: Ginny’s the flame and Harry’s the coal. A combustible combination which produces beneficial results only when it works in tandem.
–Who’s that tall, gawky bloke?†Enid asked. –Looks a bit like he’s lost his way.â€
Augusta smiled as she recognized Xenophilius Lovegood. The man did indeed appear to be at loose ends without Luna at his side.
–He’s the publisher of the New Quibbler,†she supplied. If only his paper ran wedding announcements. She’s broached the subject only to be told in uncertain terms that he was not willing to start making exceptions.
–And that addled man in the corner?†Algie prodded. –He looks like a right Muggle!â€
–That’s because he is,†Augusta explained. –That’s Dr. Granger, Hermione’s father. He’s the vidi-o-grapher.â€
–What does he do? Undress the guests through his elaborate monocle?â€
Enid elbowed her husband for his irreverent remark, but Augusts was unfazed.
–He produces a silver disk of the wedding, preserving it for future viewing.†Searching for the proper terminology, Augusta settled for, –It’s what Muggles use in place of a Pensieve. Neville says whole groups can watch at once without having to upend themselves over a gigantic basin.â€
–He’s planning to share it with Frank and Alice,†Enid surmised.
Augusta nodded solemnly. –Not that they’re likely to understand. But moving images will entertain them regardless. At least that’s what the Healers say.â€
Healers said a lot of things, she mused silently. Cheerful assurances to not abandon hope; a cure might be just around the corner.
There was no denying that Alice had been entranced by the Order of Merlin Neville couldn’t wait to flash. Likely, she was just attracted to shiny objects, but Augusta hadn’t shared that with her grandson. No need to dampen his enthusiasm at showing his parents that he’d lived up to their legacy.
Like any generation who’d witnessed the devastation of multiple wars during her lifetime, Augusta took a more pragmatic view. Decorations for bravery were all fine and good as long as one didn’t dwell too much on the sad circumstances which gave rise to them in the first place.
A soft knock at the door, then Neville’s voice rasped, –Can I have a moment, Gran? Might be the last opportunity before everyone gets swept away.â€
Algie and Enid offered last minute congratulations to their great nephew, then slipped off to join the other guests.
–Last minute nerves?†Augusta posed as she bade Neville to sit at her side.
–Not so much. Had enough sense to stick to pumpkin juice for breakfast like you suggested.†Removing a tight roll of parchment from his pocket, he set it down on the low table before them. –Xenophilius brought it.â€
–A note from Luna then,†Augusts ventured at Neville’s urging.
Dear Neville and Hannah,
I hope this note finds you well engrossed in your wedding
preparations. My heart is filled with joy for you both, even as I
regret I won’t be able to attend the ceremony.
As you well know, summers in the Himalayas are extremely short,
many of the trails passible for a mere two weeks. By mid-August,
the early autumn frost will turn them into treacherous ribbons of ice,
as deadly as they are beautiful. I’ve been on the trail of a small
group of yetis, no more than three or four, possibly a family group.
As much as I’d like to be there for your wedding, I can’t shelve my
research until next year. There’s no guarantee I’d ever catch up
with this same nomadic group.
I promise to be back in time for Christmas, maybe even as early
as Bonfire Night. We’ll get together then and exchange tales of your
honeymoon and my trek across the roof of the world.
Hope you don’t mind that I sent this on with Father. It’s the only
way I could assure that he would be my eyes and ears on your
special day. He so loves a good party, but is often too shy to accept
the few invitations which come his way. I know he’ll have an
excellent time; your Gran has always been so accommodating to the
both of us.
Here’s wishing you all the happiness in your new life together.
P.S. Please give Seamus my love when you next see him. Is it true
that he has a two-year-old daughter? Time certainly has flown
since our days at Hogwarts.
With an undeniable tightness in her throat, Augusta rewound the parchment and held it out to Neville.
–You keep it,†he demurred. –At least for now. Wouldn’t do to get married with a note from my former girlfriend nestled in my robes.â€
–Surely Hannah doesn’t object to your friendship?â€
–Of course not. The three of us are close…†He hesitated as if uncertain how to continue. Then in a bare whisper, he added, –I’ve always known Luna was your favorite, Gran.â€
–That’s not -- †Augusta protested.
–Entirely so?†Neville finished handily. –I’ve always known. I’m just glad you never let on to Hannah.â€
–Luna’s just so adept at seeing the truth that others overlook,†Augusta admitted lowly.
–A rare gift. But she’s also prone to flights of fancy that no amount of common sense can counteract. It was a welcome release while we were trapped at an institution run by a bunch of renegade Bedlamites -- or so Ginny always put it. Without her sarcasm and Luna’s imagination, I doubt I could’ve hung on to my sanity. But things are different in times of peace… Can you imagine shopping for a divan with Luna in tow?†he added with a dry chuckle
–She wouldn’t care whether you settled for a pair of wooden packing crates around a campfire,†Augusta surmised.
–Precisely, but I would. I’m just a homebody at heart, content with my post at Hogwarts. All I want at the end of the day is a nice supper in front of the fire.â€
–Luna, too, I warrant. Just in some far flung locale.â€
–Or in a drafty wizard’s tent. Trust me, I heard enough tales of stumbling about the wilderness from Hermione and Ron to see me ‘til the end of time. Can’t imagine a more miserable existence! But there are those, like Luna, with wanderlust coursing in their veins. Who can blame her when she has a ready publisher waiting for her at home? Far be it for me to stand in her way; the future of knowledge depends upon such hardly souls willing to sacrifice creature comforts for the sake of enlightenment.
–Such a life would never make me happy,†he elaborated. –Not even if I could seek out exotic plants in unheard of places. Pomona’s more than happy to assume those duties now that she only oversees the N.E.W.T. levels.â€
–So you’re here to tell me that your mind’s made up. Hannah’s the one for you.â€
–I just wanted you to know that a part of me will always love Luna; her path is just different from mine.â€
–Then I think we’re ready to join the others downstairs,†Augusta allowed as she wrapped Neville up in a tight hug. –Just don’t tell me you’re too much of a homebody to go on your honeymoon. It’s only a short hop over the Irish Sea to Seamus’ cottage.â€
–Can I Apparate back if I get homesick?†he grinned.
–Don’t you dare abandon your new wife like that!â€
–Are you kidding?†Neville volleyed. –And end up like those Manx cats on my wedding night!â€
The twinkle in her grandson’s eye told Augusta that he, too, was recalling Luna’s amusing fable of the witch whose first attempt at long-distance Apparition fell short of its destination, landing her on a deserted boulder in the middle of the sea. To add to the indignity, she’d managed to splinch herself in the process. Her cat glared balefully at the remains of his once graceful tail and refused to come anywhere near her again. Generations later, hardy folk from the mainland relocated to the Isle of Man, finding a bustling population of stub-tailed cats, a unique species found nowhere else on the planet.
–Spinning a yarn doesn’t make it true, you know,†Augusta teased.
–Even if Luna’s are always pure gold,†Neville rejoined in a whisper as they exited into the garden.
Before them, the back lawn had been turned into an enchanted landscape for Neville to embark on his new life. Augusta’s heart was surging with happiness as she took her seat in the front row.
With a sparkling fanfare, the floating trumpets announced the procession was about to begin. The wedding guests rose to their feet and turned as one to catch a glimpse of the resplendent bride.