There are few moments in life when fate is kind to those who labor under its burden, but this was one of those. Severus Snape lay asleep, dreamless and content for the first time in years. Narcissa watched her son, her beloved child play a game of exploding snap with the very child who saved his life. Lucius Malfoy felt the weight of McGonagall’s approval for the first time since he’d been barely more than a youth. Harry felt like he was finally home… all of them were happy to embrace the feeling, because even young Draco and naive Harry could feel that something was lurking just outside the moment, something that was sure to destroy all of this happiness.

               Still, some miles away another series of events where unfold themselves. Augusta Longbottom was a woman of uncompromising strength. To those who had worked with her or who served alongside her on the Board of Governors she was a paragon of the old ways and always ready to fight for what she believed, but at home… in the silence of Longbottom Manor, she was something else entirely.

               For the first couple of weeks that she’d come to care for her young grandson Neville she was constantly torn between wanting to hold the child and wanting to banish him from her sight into the care of various house elves. She could see how much he looked like her beloved son Frank. She could see sweet Alice, in his eyes. She could see them so clearly within Neville, that sometimes, when she looked at him, she saw her son and her daughter-in-law and the plain white room in St. Mungo’s where they were slowly wasted away…lost in their own minds. It was hard in those first weeks, to push down the tragedy and the anger and look at the boy. Still… when she did she could barely pull her eyes away, because those time when she looked at young Neville… she saw what she almost lost; the last piece, the only piece of Frank and Alice that truly remained.

               She made a resolve one night as she clutched the boy to her chest… made a promise that she would love Neville and raise him as best she could, for the sake of those who’d saved him: for Frank, for Alice, and for Bellatrix. She promised that she would pour all of the love she held for her family and for the boy himself into each moment she was gifted to spend with him. So, the moment she stepped in the door of Longbottom Manor she changed. Her shoulders lost their tension, her face brightened with a smile, and she’d spend hours each day playing with him and teaching Neville everything that she could. When she saw that he was a gifted with plants and growing things, she gave him his mother’s green house to tend. When she saw how her brother Algie treated the boy, she banned him from the manor. She praised his triumphs and talked him through his failures… she raised the boy to be a good man.

Neville’s magic was strong and earthy rooted in the plants he so dearly loved. He’d never play Quidditch like his father, but he was smart like his mother. He had a keen mind for charms and transfiguration theory, and a steady hand for basic potioneering. Augusta couldn’t have been prouder when he received his Hogwarts letter. They’d made plans to go to Diagon Alley shortly before the start of term when a letter arrived that changed everything.

Augusta Longbottom recognized Minerva’s tidy handwriting immediately. So when she began to read she felt her world tip on it axis.

Dearest Augusta,

I have known you for years to be a woman of shrewd sense and unshakeable confidences. You were one of the only people during the war who I knew I would want at my side no matter what was coming after me. It is in the spirit of our friendship that I am writing to you now.

For many years, I have lamented to you about the depth of my sorrow over every relinquishing my rights as young Harry’s God Mother. You were the only one, aside from Albus, who I ever told about my relationship with James’ and Lily’s son. You knew the pain that being able to see him caused me and the only consolation that would mend my broken heart was the knowledge that I would see him again and Albus’ promise to look over the boy.

Now, I must come to you, as I have so many times before, begging for your clear view of the events that now foist themselves upon me. The story begins some days ago, when Severus received a letter from young Harry. The letter, in a child’s clumsy hand, was asking for help. It took Severus many days to pull himself from his anger at James Potter and go to him. Severus has not be entirely clear as to what happened that night, or rather last night, but the words he has spoken are to the heart of the matter.

Harry’s guardians, who are Lily’s only remaining family, neglected and abused him in a matter most horrifying. Severus saw Vernon Dursley beat Harry and throw him into the corner, what’s more the others who were just meters away said nothing, did nothing, and as Severus recounts Harry’s cousin slept through it all. I tell you, in this manner, that you might understand the crux of the problem. This event, which has shattered the faith I have kept in Albus all these years, was a common occurrence in Harry’s life, so common that it barely warranted rolling over in bed to see what caused such ruckus.

Augusta, I am shaken. To the bottom and core of myself, I am shaken. What am I to do? We have found a place for Harry to be until the school term begins, but I have no knowledge of how to proceed. I have had children come to before and dealt with abuse in other children from Hogwarts… but his boy, he is my Godson and I have failed him.

Please Augusta, your calm demeanor and ability to cut to the root of the problem would be a boon.

Merlin and all the magics of the universe guide you,

Minerva

For sometime Augusta sat unmoving in her chair. It was hard to say how long but when she pulled herself from her stupor the room was cold and dark, the once gently burning fire now little more than smoldering ash. Augusta had no words to say, no quick witticisms to offer, not even a kind word to give her friend. Soon a feeling rose in Augusta, it burned out the cold and filled the marrow of her bones with fire. Her long contained and controlled magic flared and sparked across her skin.

‘I will not let this go unpunished, Albus, there will be no quarter for you from the House of Longbottom.’

Her heart beat a quick staccato and her magic flash brightly in agreement.