This is Home

AUGUSTA had met many arrogant men in her life, though admittedly she hadn't thought the great light wizard Albus Dumbledore to be one of them. The wizard undoubtedly had his own flaws just like any other witch or wizard would, though she never thought the man who was so revered within the magical world to suffer from what she bluntly described as little man syndrome. Frank, her eldest and only child had scolded her when she told him as much the following day during visiting hours.

Despite her half concealed letter of blackmail and threats to the well-respected wizard it seemed, the Supreme Mugwump of the Ministry seemed to think Augusta Longbottom was merely 'jesting' and had no idea the 'complicating intricacies' of one Hadrian Potter. Not only was the Longbottom matriarch offended by the sorcerer’s words, but she was admittedly amused that he thought himself to be so untouchable with his many titles. So in retaliation to his ignorance, Augusta Longbottom drafted many more letters that same day and sent them to many other allied houses.

Her list included the Head of the families Abbott, Macmillan, Greengrass, Prewett and Fawley. Augusta had been pleased with the array of positive responses from the lot of them. With them all backing her cause, she sent a official notice to the Wizengamot to officiate a legal hearing for the guardianship of one Hadrian James Potter. They were given a month to prepare their case defensive and officially call their lawyers to begin providing evidence, though Augusta had never entrusted many with the dirty work. ‘If you wanted something done right you were best off doing it yourself,’ are the very words she fell back on in this instance.

With little persuasion needed, Augusta managed to convince Alice and Frank to take up the role of raising the boy, or at least petition for it, while she could reside as his magical guardian instead of the Headmaster of Hogwarts. It wasn’t without it’s own battles however, as Frank and Alice were both new parents and currently not in the best conditions of health, due to their recent torture at the hands of deatheaters. Nonetheless, Augusta assumed that by the time the hearing rolled around they would be head strong and united as they petitioned for sole custody of the orphaned boy.

During this time, both in convincing her son and his wife, and arranging many letters, she heard nothing from the opposing side. With their silence she focused mainly on contacting as many close contacts of the Potter family as possible.

It took her much longer than expected to get into contact with Remus Lupin, a werewolf who had been one of James Potter's closest friends throughout his school years, and even longer to find Marlene Mckinnon who was often described as a close friend of Lily's. Despite not knowing either of them well, and the Lupin's and Mckinnon's being nothing but half-bloods in the Wizarding hierarchy it took much convincing to get them both to understand her case.

Mckinnon was against it simply because she blindly trusted in Dumbledore, thinking that he must know what's best since he was so great and powerful. Augusta had to force herself to keep calm throughout the entire discussions over tea and biscuits on that late Tuesday evening. Remus was a little easier to persuade, as he knew exactly how anti-magic Lily's sister was and that he selfishly wanted Hadrian closer to him.

Despite this, the werewolf was also quite inclined to favour Dumbledore’s opinion over hers— for sound reasons. The Headmaster was the reason he was even given a education at Hogwarts School and allowed into the wizarding world without as much ridicule and fear as other dark creatures. Though after many cordial disagreements between the three of them, they all came to a mostly united agreement and Augusta got what she wished for in the end to help build her case.

With the signed support from the other Sacred Twenty-eight houses, Augusta was able to get a mostly full documented history of the Potter family Wizarding customs dating back to the 1800's and was even able to contrast how the Muggle relatives of Lily Potter would not stand for any such thing. By the time she had all of her factual and written proof, Augusta did the last thing she needed to completely fill her file folder with definite evidence and went to visit the Dursley household for the last time. Though unlike the previous vista, she would be speaking to the family themselves and not the noses neighbours.

Upon arriving at Number Four, Privet Drive in Surrey, Augusta couldn’t help but grimace at the lacklustre street. It was a rather plain street, with simple streetlights and well trimmed lawns. It was in a boring neighbourhood with nothing out of the ordinary at all to be noted, not even the people who dwelled their were extraordinary. All families of three or four, with a wife playing homemaker and the husband being the bread winner—most commonly at a dead end desk job.

After knocking thrice on the door, with her rings clattering on the white wooden frame, Augusta was soon greeted at the door by a horse faced woman. She had a long neck and sandy blonde hair which was pulled into a low sitting bun without hair falling from its place. For a new mother she looked quite put together with the crisp white apron, over a taupe coloured skirt that ended at her knees.

"May I help you?" The woman asked simply, with a baby  with the same sandy hair as her own combed delicately on it's fat round head. The baby was propped on her hip with much difficulty on the woman’s part and it took less than few seconds for Augusta to assume that this child was her own and not Hadrian Potter.

Augusta could not see any resemblance at all between the witch she had met with auburn hair and bright green eyes and the woman who was hopelessly Muggle and by extension her sister. Where Lily had been short with rounded hips and a wide smile, the woman in front of her was thin as a rail and looked to have just finished sucking on a bitter tasting lemon in the way she greeted her guests.

"Are you Petunia Evans?" Augusta asked cautiously, knowing that she had the correct house address, but not wishing to incidentally alarm the woman that she had been watching her for days now in her evidence collection.

"Dursley now. Evans was my maiden name." The woman replied stiffly, though she let her eyes wander to the older woman’s strange dress attire. Normally, Augusta wore nothing but her usual dress robes of violet or deep green, paired with her favoured feather hat to match her many rings and bobbles. Having had to journey into the Muggle populated area, she chose a long dress of a simple green fabric, with a black trench coat to blend into the Muggle fashions. Though she didn't bother leaving the hat or her bobbles from her person, she hardly thought either of them to be as off putting as the woman’s facial expression suggested they were.

Augusta gave her a slanted grin, as she introduced herself cordially and businesslike. She refused to spend anytime longer than she needed to in the woman's presence, having heard many nasty things about her from secondary sources and witnessing a few during her walks around the block.

"I am Augusta Longbottom. I was hoping we could chat about your nephew over tea."

The woman's eyes narrowed to slits before being masked by a false and cheery attitude as she welcomed Augusta inside. Once brought inside, Petunia firmly closed the door and lead the woman to the dining room, where she began to rush around the kitchen and start the kettle. The Longbottom Matriarch tried to keep her frown from fully appearing along her weathered face as she was refused the ability to be rid of her coat and was left to simply keep it on her person as she kept a tight grip on her handbag.

Augusta was admittedly surprised that the thin woman kept the small child on her hip as she started the tea, as he was most definitely not a light child from how meaty his arms and legs were. The Longbottom witch has seen many babies in her lifetime, but never one so large and round at barely six months old.

As the woman boiled the water for tea and brought the cream and sugar from the cabinets to the table, Augusta attempted to soothe the woman with polite commentary about her home but was firmly ignored. Admittedly Augusta didn't overly like anything about the house as it was barren of any pictures or memories and looked more like a show home.

The walls were an alarmingly bright white, and the tiles were scrubbed to perfection—looking to be inspected and wiped of any imperfections. Not a thing was out of place, not even the many toys in the living room she could see through the corners of her eyes. Even the playpen that was set up in the living room was nearly made and looked to have been freshly changed. The house seemed blank and bare, not at all like there were two young children living there.

Once the kettle was whistling, and a tea bag was dropped in each porcelain cup of cheap China, Augusta busied herself with making it to her liking when finally Petunia brought up the question of the strange woman's visit.

"What's youre concern with my—" she grimaced into her cup as she readjusted the baby on her hip to a more comfortable position and spoke like the word was closer to a curse than a title, "…nephew."

Dropping a teaspoon of sugar into the black tea and spinning it idly, Augusta replied simply. "Just how he's settling in of course. Where is he anyway? I would love to meet him properly."

"Sleeping finally," Petunia huffed with a small sneer that disappeared as quickly as it arrived. "I swear the boy never stops screaming. Poor Dudder's never gets any rest with all the wailing."

Augusta raised a brow at the woman's words, as she spoke plainly and attempted to placate the younger woman with her sympathy on the matter. She remembered the trials and errors of when Frank had been a small child. Though she distinctly remembered that Remus Lupin had never mentioned the Potter heir to be colicky— insisting more often than not that he was a very easy baby to care for.

"Well, a lot has changed for him in a short amount of time. I'm sure he'll grow out of it."

Petunia didn't seem to agree to the woman's sentiments as she rolled her eyes, and began to caress her own child's hair as he contently laid in his mother's arms with a vacant expression. Attempting to change the topic to the one she was more interested about, Augusta spoke once more with the woman's silence as she coddled her baby boy in her arms.

"And this must Hadrian's cousin?"

"Dudley yes. My sweet baby boy." Petunia sighed with fondness at the frowning baby boy as his chubby finger started to yank on at the woman’s long and nimble fingers. "Isn't he the cutest of children? He's got his father’s smile, you know."

Augusta had to force herself not to state the baby was quite possibly the ugliest child she had ever seen. With it's red and smushed looked face, and wide and flattened looking nose. He had more in common with a pig than a baby in her mind but she smartly kept her comments to herself.

"Yes he's quite ... lovely."

Augusta took a sip of tea and tried not to make a face at the flat taste coating her tongue as she swallowed. It seemed manners weren’t the only thing Petunia Dursley lacked when greeting house guests, she had deplorable tastes in teas as well. "Is by chance your husband around as well? I'd love to speak to the both of you."

"Working, I'm afraid," Petunia waved off a she took a sip of her own tea and gave a simple explanation to his whereabouts. "He's very busy today at Grunnings you see. He is sure that a promotion will be coming his way so he’s putting in extra hours."

Augusta didn't comment any further and placed her tea back on the small plate and waited for the woman to ask the question she had expected to fall from the woman's lips as soon as she entered the house. Augusta knew the woman to be watching her like a hawk as she sat across from her, as if waiting for the old woman to hit her with a spell just because she could. Or more likely try and harm her child— because that was what superstitious Muggles would think.

"You're one of them." She spoke condescendingly, with her lips curling upward. Though when eyes remained pointedly black despite her cruel sounding words.When Augusta did nothing in reaction, Petunia added in distaste. "Like my sister. One of those freaks."

Augusta huffed in disapproval to the woman's tone and pointedly remarked, "The correct term would be witch."

Petunia opened her mouth, obviously having much on her mind to speak but Augusta quickly over stepped. She was many things, but patient was not one of them and Augusta was quite done with playing house with the woman she had heard so many awful things about. Perhaps, Petunia Evans, now Dursley, hadn't been awful to her outright (so far) but Augusta Longbottom had heard enough to place her.

After all, a woman as high born and established in politics within the Wizarding World such as Augusta had a talent for knowing ones true colours with nothing more than a simple conversation. To be blunt, Augusta did not fancy the sister of Lily Evans-Potter in the slightest — she was in desperate need for a personality replacement and a manual on how to be a proper host to guests. Not that Augusta could fault her shoddy etiquette with an upbringing as lacklustre as her own— Muggle customs had dwindled in that aspect.

"Mrs. Dursley," Augusta addressed in a clipped and proper tone— the exact one she used in correspondence to any proper ministry official. Most people who did not know the elderly witch well thought her tone to be only complimentary and professional, few knew it to be her way of manipulating others into thinking she held even a scrap of respect towards them or their thoughts. It was one of the reasons that some called her a snake dressed in lions clothing.

"I think we can both say that we would not like to waste either of our times with pointless chatter. I don't like you and you certainly don't like me—,"

Petunia's long and pointed jaw clenched, as her cheeks went a bright and ugly red. Unfortunately the Muggle woman was quickly cut off from speaking at all by the witch, who had raised her hand and spoke in the same proper and no-nonsense phrasing.

"Now," Augusta snipped, as she slowly folded her wrinkled hands clad in many rings upon her lap, delicately over her large handbag. "—you can threaten me with your Muggle Aurors by calling them on your number machine on the wall, or we can come to a quick and easy agreement without me having to resort to magical means to get what I need from you."

Petunia Dursley resembled that of a fly trap, in the way her mouth opened and closed multiple times in shock and dismay before she purposely closed it and held her lips in a thin line. The baby, Dudley, as Augusta learned previously, started to squawk in it's mother's arms as Petunia began to rock it soothingly back and forth, though her eyes kept darting upward in caution.

According to Arabella Figg, who lived across the street from the Muggle relatives of Hadrian Potter, the magical child had never been given the same treatments when he was upset. Instead he would be pushed aside or ignored in favour of his cousin. Hadrian was expected to self soothe, even when he was faced with so many changes with nothing but strangers to watch over him This small tendril of information that flowed between her thoughts had the witch feeling a tad more blunt and disgruntled than usual.

"I want you out of my house!" Petunia Dursley snapped harshly like a hiss, as Augusta took another sip of her tea. She raised a brow at the woman's sudden words, but did not jump to defend herself. "We took the boy in under the requirements that we would put a stop to all this rubbish!"

"Which is not possible given the circumstances." Augusta couldn't help but snicker at the woman's statement. She sincerely hoped that all Muggles weren't as foolish as Petunia seemed to be, as it would be terrible to think she voted in favour of intermingling with them more often and to try for a more pleasant agreement to be made in the future.

"Surely, you are aware that whoever promised that you could live in a world ignorant to magic— when raising your nephew who undoubtedly has magic," she added on helpfully with a thin smirk. "—that it would not be at all possible."

Petunia stood up in seconds, jostling the dissatisfied baby in her arms as she did and quickly laid him down in the playpen in the living room with nothing more than few mumbled curse words beneath her breath. Augusta had followed her, ignoring the words out of politeness more than anything, but was quickly ushered out of the room and back into the kitchen where the woman began speaking harshly once more.

"We are putting a stop to this —this nonsense!" She stammered out with her cheeks turning that familiar red and her breathing coming out in short, frantic spurts. Augusta would think the sight comical if she did not need something more damning from the woman

"This nonsense as you called it, can't be stopped." Augusta replied swiftly, as she patted down her skirts and levelled the woman with a fierce stare. "Stopping that boy’s magic is like waiting for a blizzard in July— impossible without the use of magic to begin with."

"Out! Get out!" Petunia snapped at the witch as she went to shove Augusta out the door, cursing in anger and disgust. Augusta sighed in disbelief towards the woman's idiocy, but did not protest as she was lead back towards the entry way and had the door swinging open in the crisp autumn air.

"I will not be raising any freaks in my household!" Petunia hissed lastly before shoving the elderly woman out the door and onto the step with little regard for her well-being. "And stay away from my son!"

With the door slamming behind her, Augusta snickered into a hanky that she pulled from her hand bag and hummed along to her thoughts as she steadied herself on the porch.

'No,' the woman thought resolutely with a hidden grin as she walked carefully down the cement steps, 'Petunia wouldn't be raising any so-called freaks, if Augusta had any say in the matter.'

With one last glance at Number Four Privet Drive, Augusta Longbottom apparated back to the household manor of Longbottom, with a sharp crack in the Muggle infested neighbourhood. The few Muggles wandering about assumed a car had backfired in the early afternoon or a neighbour had dropped something sharp along the pavement. None even contemplated the possibility of magic living in their boring, and unimaginative neighbourhood.

Only the loud cries from inside the Dursley home brought any awareness at all to the strange occurrences happening. Hadrian Potter had awoke from his short lived nap both startled and on edge. Petunia started cussing vigorously beneath her breath as her nephew screamed in his measly and slightly broken bed-cot in fear. Petunia Dursley despised magic, and anything to be infested with the so-called disease. She outright refused to have any part in such nonsense— and she would be damned if some one tried to make her do otherwise.

AUGUSTA wasted no time once arriving at the Longbottom Manor. She quickly struttered her way through her ancestral home and had her personal house elf begin another kettle for tea, having not finished her cup at the Dursley household. As if Petunia’s manners in etiquette and hospitality weren't shameful at best—seeing as Augusta was never offered to remove her coat, and outright refused to finish her tea— the elderly witch had prohibited her in thin words to see the child she was so curious about. Of course she could sum that up to Hadrian’s guardian having no desire to share her newest ward to mere strangers, but that didn't explain her lack of hospitality. Petunia was a lacking hostess, and Augusta pitied those who had to be subjected to her inadequacies like herself.

As her elf began setting the tray in parlour for tea, Augusta busied herself in the sitting room as she used her brittle blackthorn wand to pull out her most recent memories of the visit. She didn't bother to place them in her pensive and view the memories once again, and instead bottled them up in two small vials and corked them tightly to keep their contents inside. She had already labeled and dated each bottle with it's contents and then began to place them next to the short written letters addressed to the Wizengamot.

The letters had been written many days prior, after having spoken with both Arabella Figg and few other neighbours in Privet Drive. Most of them had been innocent enough inquires about the small boy that was suddenly thrust into the Dursley's care. None of the conversations had been outrightly incriminating to the family, but they hadn't been completely positive either.

One woman had claimed the boy was colicky, and never rested for more than an hour before screaming like a banshee most nights. Another had stated that for a child no older than a few months he seemed remarkably small, and even noted that Petunia herself lost her temper easily with the child.

"He's a just a baby, but you'd think he had set the woman's bed on fire with the way she spoke to him." The old man up the street commented. He added that Dudley was often brought out and shown as the most beautiful baby in Surrey, while Hadrian had been pushed aside often, or ignored entirely. He even accounted that one evening, whether on accident or on purpose Petunia had left him unattended at the nearby park for two hours in a stroller.

Augusta had scowled at the man's information but had thanked him all the less. After meeting with Petunia she had been even less happy to see how absent the woman was in his life. He was just a child, an important child at that even if she didn't know it. Putting all that aside he was also the last living memory of Lily Potter, her estranged sister. Augusta didn't know all of the reasons behind the fall out between the two but surely the woman couldn't have hated Lily Potter so much that she would purposely neglect or ignore her child.

With a short sigh, as she sealed up the letter and all the unbiased memories into the envelopes, her house elf called her to parlour to let her know her tea was now being served. She tied the letter and vials to her eagle owl's leg and shut the windows tightly after he took off into the early evening.

There was little more for her to do but wait. She had supplied all she could in damning evidence towards the Dursley's. She had acquired allies within most seats in the Wizengamot, blackmailed and manipulated many into favouring her side that were members of the Sacred Twenty-eight, and even sending in her own accounts with Hadrian Potter's last remaining relatives. Augusta Longbottom had definitely pulled more strings than required for the upcoming court case but that didn't mean that worry didn't fill her belly.

So many things could go wrong at the trial, especially if Albus Dumbledore was in attendance to the affair and was given his absolute power. She knew it foolish to hope that the man would simply brush the whole matter aside but she couldn't stop the lingering tendril. Augusta Longbottom knew him to be a good man, at least when it suited him, but that didn't leave him without faults and most of those faults seemed to concern the last living Potter heir. 

With Muggles he would know nothing of the magical world, would be uneducated in their laws and customs especially those most sacred to the Potter Family. The difference in Light Magic and Dark Magic would be lost, as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry only covered the most neutral of spell theory and application. The old ways of magic would be lost and it seemed tragic that a heir of such a prominent family would be subjected to it. Especially one rumoured to be as powerful as Hadrian. It didn't matter that the child was barely over fourth months old, much like her own grandson. It was obvious he held a potential to magic, whether it be dark or light it was for him to discover as he grew and matured like all young heirs.

But if the Wizengamot insisted to not view it from a purely magical and traditional sense, which was likely to occur if Dumbledore was present, then she had the memories. The memories of neighbours and the written agreements from long standing family friends that Hadrian Potter should not reside with his Muggle relatives. She had even went as far as to indulge in researching the most hidden prospects of blood wards, which was a gruelling and boring topic to stay the least.

Augusta had never excelled in defensive magic, especially ones dabbling into the Dark Arts— she was a light witch, with a speciality in transfiguration. Despite this she had highlighted phrases by many renowned witches and wizards throughout the centuries and all of them claimed the same thing. Blood wards would be useless without the child having a love for the home and those within it. In order for the wards to work and protect those within it, there has to be a mutual acceptance of love.

Perhaps, Hadrian could grow to love and care for his relatives like he did for his parents, but the Dursley's seemed off-put to try. From the little interactions with Petunia Dursley the woman seemed to harbour nothing but fear and disappoint in her nephew—most of that stemming from his magical roots. She despised magic, that was evidently clear but she also feared it, like some wizards feared werewolves and other dark creatures of the night. 

As she sipped from her tea cup in the parlour, Augusta let the small lacing of a calming draught fill her with warmth. It was pointless to fret any longer, she knew that even now. It didn't matter how she tried to hoodwink and out-think the esteemed Albus Dumbledore, if there was thing she could be sure of it was his unpredictability. He would pull something out of his ridiculously large Wizarding hat to persuade the Wizengamot and she would be left unknowing and unable to give a proper response.

All she could do was wait. Something she had never been fond of, having not been gifted the virtue of patience or the clear headedness when she threw herself into her thoughts. She was on a spiraling staircase, like those of Hogwarts School—helplessly running up the many stairs in the hopes to make it to her destination on time and upright. She was stuck in the middle of two landings, one being success and the other failure—both looming possibilities with their own set of complications. Augusta Longbottom sighed loudly into her cup as she morosely thought that December 2nd could not arrive fast enough.