Gran on the Run

Dear Gran,

I've finally got some good news! Professor Sprout's found me a job with a seed supplier she uses, apparently I can start in September as long as I get an O in my Herbology NEWT. I know you wanted me to get a Ministry job straight after Hogwarts, but Sprout says this will give me a good leg up for when I can apply for those, once the war's over. I wonder if the exams will still go on, it seems like half the students will have dropped out of school by then. A lot of Half-Bloods are saying they won’t come back after the Christmas holidays.

What are things like at home? Remember you can let me know if anything seems wrong, I've always got my Galleon on me. The DA is still going strong, and if you need anything I'm sure I can find a way to get to you with their help. 

Chin up, Gran, and keep telling Mum and Dad what's going on.

Neville

Augusta had read the letter more times than she could count. It was the last one she had received from Neville, over a month ago now. The fake Galleon he had given her lay untouched on a shelf above her bed, never to be used. She was both proud and furious that Neville was still organising the DA, of which he seemed to have become the leader in Potter's absence. She had told Neville over and over to keep his head down, focus on his classes, and stay out of trouble, but he was no longer the quiet, obedient boy she had raised. His adventure at the Department of Mysteries, where he had confronted Bellatrix Lestrange, had left him determined, passionate, desperate to fight against the Death Eaters no matter how much danger he put himself in. Augusta had half a mind to go and take him out Hogwarts and go on the run, but she knew she was no match for the guards Snape had stationed all around the castle. She would have to wait until Neville came home for the Christmas Holidays, and would still be hard pressed to convince him to abandon his friends at school. 

She tucked the letter back inside its envelope, smoothed out her nightgown, then began to unravel the tight Curling Charms that held her hair in place. It looked rather long and straggly without them, but she secretly quite liked having it down. It was improper, of course, for an old woman to be seen in such a state, but when alone she still felt like the spirited young witch she had once been. She looked at herself in the mirror on her dresser, not noticing the lined skin and grey hair, but thinking instead of the woman behind the reflected eyes. She could see herself in Neville more clearly than ever before, just as she had in his father. 

Suddenly a loud knock sounded from downstairs. Augusta was on her slippered feet at once, hurrying across the bedroom with her wand out. 

Lumos, she thought as she crossed the dark landing, and her wand lit up to illuminate the stairs. She was halfway down them when the door burst open with a loud bang, and a tall wizard in Ministry robes stepped into her hallway. 

"How dare you!" Augusta shouted at the intruder, thundering down the stairs towards him with her wand raised. His head snapped up to look at her, and she recognised the hard, surly face of the Auror John Dawlish. 

"Mrs Longbottom, you are wanted for questioning," he announced grimly. "You are suspected of influencing your grandson, Neville, to defy Professor Snape's rule at Hogwarts."

"Ridiculous," snapped Augusta, stopping on the bottom stair so she could tower over Dawlish. "A boy's caregiver cannot be arrested for his misbehaviour at school!"

"The school is now officially affiliated with the Ministry of Magic, and any resistance to its rule is an offense against the law," Dawlish recited sternly. "You will be held in custody until Neville's behaviour improves - "

"In custody!" Augusta shrieked, jabbing Dawlish in the chest with her wand. "I've never heard such nonsense! Now get off my property before I turn you into a rat and fetch my cats!"

"Mrs Longbottom, do I have to arrest you for resisting and threatening an Auror?" replied Dawlish, though he backed away from her wand rather hurriedly. 

"Arrest me all you like, this will not hold up in court!" Augusta shouted.

"I'm afraid it will," said Dawlish flatly. He waved his wand so suddenly that Augusta did not have time to react. Her arms were wrenched behind her back, and handcuffs sprang into existence around her wrists. She gave a scream of outrage and pivoted round, getting a clear shot at Dawlish's head with the wand still clutched in her bony hand. He choked as a cloud of heavy smoke billowed around him, then staggered backwards and crashed into the coat stand. Augusta twirled her wand in her fingers to point it at her handcuffs, then broke them into pieces with a blast like a cannon. Jagged shards of metal stabbed into her hands as she shook them free, but she was so furious she hardly noticed. She swept her wand across the hallway to send a cascade of shoes beating and kicking Dawlish to the ground. 

"Coward!" she bellowed as he threw his arms up over his head. "Thought you'd shackle up an old lady and drag her off to Azkaban, eh? Easy night for you? I'll make you wish you'd gone off sick today, you mark my words!"

She flourished her wand to summon more weapons from the kitchen, beating Dawlish with a rolling pin and shooting apples at his head. He deflected her spells wildly, sending shoes flying back at her, but she ducked and dodged them easily, now thoroughly enjoying herself. 

"My grandson is ten times the man you are!" she cackled, scrubbing harshly at Dawlish's ears with a wooden brush, leaving cuts all over his bruised face and neck.

"Stupefy!" grunted Dawlish, pointing his wand towards the stairs. He missed Augusta by at least a foot, blinded by the barrage of household objects whirling around his head. His spell shot over the bannister and hit the wall, shattering a photograph of Frank and Alice into a thousand pieces. Augusta saw red. With a cry of fury she flourished her wand, and commanded a frying pan to whack Dawlish with all her strength. There was a satisfying clang of metal against his skull, then he went limp. 

Augusta clutched at the bannister, suddenly exhausted. The attack had come quite by surprise, and she was lucky they had only thought to send Dawlish.

"Teach them to underestimate a Longbottom," she grumbled to herself as she set about repairing the photo frame. She then hurried back up the stairs to her bedroom and got dressed into plain, black travelling robes, twirling her hair into a bedraggled bun. She caught her reflection in the mirror, and was once again strangely pleased with what she saw. She was not properly presentable without her usual strict curls and smart robes, but she looked wild, alight with adventure for the first time in decades. 

Next she summoned an old carpet bag from the bottom of her wardrobe. She'd had it ready for weeks, packed with clothes and travel toiletries, as well as all her medications and an enormous purse of gold and jewels. She had cleared out her vault in Gringotts, fearing that the Goblins would soon join Voldemort's cause, and had put most of her savings into jewellery instead, which was easier to carry around. She quite enjoyed the feeling of having such a precious collection, like a dragon from an old fairytale. She seized Neville's fake Galleon from above the bed and put it in her inside pocket, where she was sure to feel it if it grew hot, then took one last look at her tidy little bedroom, making sure everything was in order in case the Ministry came snooping.

Augusta then hurried down the stairs and extracted her old walking boots from beneath Dawlish's crumpled body. His face was already turning red and purple, one eye swollen tightly shut with a great lump forming above it where the frying pan had struck. She hoped she had given him a good strong concussion, and perhaps broken a few ribs for good measure. The hall was a mess too, but with a flick of her wand the shoes and kitchenware went floating gently back to their proper places. She levitated Dawlish out onto her front doorstep, then turned to the hall mirror to make sure her hood threw her face into shadow. Over her shoulder she spotted her vulture-topped hat hanging on the wall. She smiled to herself, knowing that she would see it again soon and go back to being the prim and proper Mrs Longbottom, but for now she was free from the demands of her reputation, for she must travel with utmost secrecy.

She stepped over Dawlish and locked the door behind her, then marched down the street towards her brother's house. Algie and his wife Enid lived just round the corner, though they were sure to be asleep by now. She unlocked their front door and hurried up the stairs, then rapped loudly on the bedroom door. 

“Algie! Look sharp, I’m coming in!”

She opened the door to find Algie and Enid squinting groggily at her.

“Augusta!” cried Algie indignantly, pulling up the sheets over his bare chest. “What's happened?” he said suddenly, taking in her mysterious cloak and hood. His eyes fell upon the carpet bag.

“You're leaving?” he said quietly.

“The Death Eaters sent Dawlish to take me in,” said Augusta grimly. “I'm going straight up to Hogsmeade; it seems our Neville has been up to something.”

“Is he alright?” asked Enid, looking stricken.

“Dawlish didn't say,” said Augusta. “I suspect he's just been standing up for the Muggleborns too loudly, but all the same, I want to know if the villagers have heard anything.”

“We're coming with you,” said Algie, struggling out of bed and summoning his robes from across the room.

“You'll do no such thing,” said Augusta at once. “How do you think it will look if we all go missing? I need the two of you here, to tell the neighbors I've been taken ill or something.” 

“And wait for the Death Eaters to come knocking?” said Algie, now hurriedly handing Enid some robes. She heaved herself out of bed as fast as her frail old body would allow, and cast a Switching Spell to replace her nightdress with the robes.

“He's right, m'dear,” said Enid, neatly folding up her nightdress. “If they’re after you it's only a matter of time before they start hunting us as well.” She was trembling slightly, but her voice was steady.

“Alright,” said Augusta heavily. She helped them pack their essentials into a suitcase, then levitated it down the stairs for them. While they put on their boots she charmed both bags to shrink to the size of matchboxes, and stowed them carefully in her pocket. 

“All ready?” 

Algie and Enid nodded. Augusta took each of them by the hand, and braced herself before Disapparating. The tight squeezing sensation was becoming too much for their old bones, and the three of them had to stop and catch their breath as they emerged in a dark field. Algie coughed and wheezed, clutching at the wooden fence, while Enid leaned heavily on her walking stick, wincing. 

“Why have you stuck us in the middle of a bog?” Algie demanded as he regained his voice. The ground beneath them was thick with mud churned up by the hooves of cows. The buildings of Hogsmeade lay a short way beyond the field, just visible through the darkness.

“Because I'm not daft enough to try and Apparate directly into the village!” hissed Augusta, peering around to find the path. She picked her way carefully over to it, then held out a hand to help Enid. “Now be quiet, we'll need to find out how it's being guarded.”

“Do you really think the Death Eaters are watching Hogsmeade?” whispered Enid as the three of them hobbled along the path across the field. 

“I'm sure of it,” Augusta whispered back. “Neville tells me they've made absolutely sure there's no way in or out of Hogwarts, so that means they'll be guarding Honeydukes at least.”

She knew there had been a secret passage into the sweet shop back when she was at Hogwarts, and had to assume it was still there. Sure enough, as they crept between two houses they caught sight of a black robed figure patrolling the main street, its face covered by a sinister silver mask. They shrank backwards into the wall, clinging to the shadows, but the figure was wandering away from them into the distance. Augusta hurried to cast Disillusionment Charms on all three of them, and instructed the others to keep hold of the back of her cloak.

They edged between the houses until they found an alley behind the row of shops, then trotted down it in the direction of the Hog’s Head. Augusta knew Aberforth Dumbledore would not allow Death Eaters to drink at his pub, and could not think who else might be safe to turn to. The Imperius Curse was sure to be spreading throughout the village, with so many of Voldemort’s followers on hand. But Augusta had a feeling they would not try to take control of Aberforth, for his brother's name still kept the Death Eaters wary of his power.

They reached the Hog’s Head without incident, lifted their Disillusionment Charms, and crept around the back to the secret side door. It brought them into a storeroom behind the bar, where they could see into the pub through a gap between the clumsily paneled wood. To Augusta’s relief it was empty, except for a tall, elderly man wiping down the bar with a grimy rag. Augusta knocked gently on the storeroom door, and heard Aberforth’s footsteps striding over to open it.

“Augusta,” he said, taking in the three old biddies squeezed between his barrels of ale with their boots covered in mud. “Alright Algie, Enid? S’pose you'd best come in.”

He stumped back over to the bar and flicked his wand at the doors and windows. Their locks clicked and the curtains were drawn, throwing the grubby room deep into shadow. Aberforth lit a few lamps, then began pouring four glasses of Firewhisky as he prepared himself to hear bad news.

“We think our Neville's in trouble,” said Augusta, perching on a barstool and ignoring the Firewhisky. “I don't suppose you've heard anything about what's going on at the castle?”

Aberforth shook his head.

“Nothing worse than the usual. What's he done?” he asked, draining his glass in one.

“We don't know,” said Augusta. “But it's that bad that they're after us now, to blackmail him.” She quickly told the others exactly what Dawlish had said, and how she had defeated him.

“Are you telling me that you three old birds are on the run?” said Aberforth, his face cracking into a grin. “I wondered why I hardly recognised you. And I s’pose you're wanting somewhere to hide out?”

“Well that's very good of you dearie, we can't thank you enough,” said Enid at once, patting Aberforth on the hand. 

“Good man, Aberforth, knew you'd be up for a bit of Death Eater resistance,” Algie chimed in happily.

“Here, I didn't mean-” Aberforth began, his usual scowl firmly back in place.

“Well, that's that sorted then,” interrupted Augusta, producing their bags and handing Algie the miniature suitcase. She charmed her carpet bag back to its usual size, then rummaged around in it to find the heavy purse of jewells. Out of it she drew a silver necklace of diamond and moonstone, and slid it smartly over the counter towards Aberforth. He glared at them all for a moment, then snatched up the necklace and stuffed it into his pocket. He slammed the bottle of Firewhisky upon the counter and poured himself another glass, grumbling to himself.

“So tell me, how long will I be graced with your presence?” asked Aberforth. 

“No longer than necessary, I assure you,” replied Augusta. “Let's get straight to it; is there any way of getting a message to the castle?”

“There's one,” said Aberforth. “It'll cost you, mind.”

Augusta opened her purse again, and handed Aberforth a fine Goblin ring. 

“That should cover it,” he said, turning the ring over in his fingers. “I can only get in touch with Minerva McGonagall, the Order has a way to contact each other that the Death Eaters haven't discovered yet.”

He drew his wand, and produced a large silver Patronus in the shape of a goat. 

“Speak your message,” he told Augusta, keeping his wand pointed at the goat.

“Minerva, it's Augusta Longbottom speaking. The Ministry have tried to arrest me, but they won't try again in a hurry. Send word about Neville, it sounds as though he's in trouble.”

Aberforth waved his wand, and the Patronus bounded away through the wall.

“Might be a while till it reaches her,” said Aberforth. “It won't make contact unless the coast is clear.” 

“Very well,” said Augusta. “In the meantime, do you have any suggestions as to where we might stay? Preferably somewhere a touch more hygienic?”

Aberforth pulled out his vile cleaning rag in response, and smeared some dirt around a glass. 

“The Order might be able to find you a safehouse,” he said slowly. “Dunno how much safety they can promise you these days, like.”

“What about your friend Muriel?” Algie asked Augusta. “She must have plenty of spare bedrooms in that mansion of hers, and she's dead against the Death Eaters and their nonsense.”

“She's a Weasley, ain't she?” said Aberforth. “She'll have her hands full of ‘Blood Traitors’ already, the way that family carries on.”

Before Augusta could reply, a flash of silver appeared through the wall. A tabby cat leapt up onto the bar top, and Minerva McGonagall’s voice spoke.

“Augusta, it’s good to hear from you.” Minerva's voice sounded strained. “Neville is alright. He broke into the Headmaster’s office with Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood, they were trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor.”

Algie clapped a hand over his mouth, and Enid let out a little groan. Augusta shushed them hurriedly, dread creeping over her skin like cold water. 

“I can't begin to guess what they were thinking of doing with it, but I can assure you I have had a long talk with all three of them and they will not try anything so foolish again. The Carrows gave their usual punishments, but Poppy tells me Neville is healing well.”

Algie squeezed Enid's hand as tears began to slide down her face.

“He is lying low, and I’m afraid he would only be in more danger if you are discovered close by. Speak to Kingsley Shacklebolt, he will find you somewhere to stay. I will do everything in my power to keep Neville safe. Stay in touch.”

The Patronus disappeared. 

“Kingsley’s on duty tonight,” said Aberforth. “It won't be safe to send him a message till he gets off tomorrow morning.”

He eyed the three old faces before him, each of them strained with worry.

“Stay here for the night,” he told them. “Your boy’ll be alright,” he added gruffly when none of them spoke.

Augusta nodded curtly, picked up her carpet bag, and marched straight over to the staircase. She suddenly felt furious with Neville, now that she knew he was alright. What had possessed him to steal from Snape, what good could it possibly have done? 

“How much was that necklace worth?” asked Algie in a whisper as he and Enid scrambled to follow Augusta up the stairs. 

“Algie, don't be nosy,” Enid scolded him.

“I'm just saying, it had better be worth a lot if we're going to barge our way in here when there's soon to be a price on our heads!” 

“Not that my savings are any of your business, but Aberforth clearly thought I paid him enough to risk it,” retorted Augusta. She did feel rather guilty for endangering Aberforth, whom she had always got on with well enough whenever they crossed paths. “We’ll be out of his grubby hair in no time, as soon as we get the chance.”

Augusta chose the least filthy room she could find, and still spent a good while casting Cleaning Charms on every surface. She transfigured the bed entirely, conjouring fresh sheets and a mattress free from bedbugs. She settled down and tried to sleep, but her mind was buzzing with worried questions. Was Neville thinking up any more dangerous plots? Could Minerva really do anything to protect him from the Carrows? And, most concerningly, would Neville be punished for what she had done to Dawlish? After what felt like hours, she sank into a restless sleep, and was visited by a disturbing dream.

“Mum?”

Frank was sitting on his hospital bed. Alice was beside him. They looked different. The souls behind their eyes, though anxious, were aware, whole and present. 

“Neville’s in danger,” Augusta was telling them. “We must go and get him, Hogwarts is not safe.”

Fear gripped her son, seeming to squeeze and contort his features. His eyes began to glaze over, and suddenly he was rambling incoherently and rocking back and forth. Alice was clutching at her face and hair, which was rapidly turning stark white.

“NO!” Alice screamed, tearing at her skin, her fingernails bloody.

Frank was wailing, his rocking working him up into a frenzy until he leapt to his feet and seized Augusta by the throat. She tried to scream, but her son's fingers tightened. Alice was now flailing and writhing on the hospital bed, her body spasming while her shrieks echoed in Augusta's ears.

She twisted around in Frank's grip, looking for the Healers, but instead saw Neville running towards her. He was fighting his way through endless Death Eaters, blasting them aside, until a woman with tangled black hair stepped into his path.

“Crucio!” screamed Bellatrix Lestrange. Neville was lifted off the ground, jerking uncontrollably and yelling until his voice cracked. Augusta could suddenly see his face, and in his eyes was the same madness that haunted his parents.