Chapter Text
Neville and Kingsley must have agreed to meet up early on Saturday for a quiet breakfast together, because the first time Harry and Theo saw them that morning was when the Gryffindor and the Auror stepped into McGonagall’s office, side by side.
The Aurors, Kingsley and Robards in particular, had been staying at Hogwarts until the unicorn killer investigation was finished and the culprit caught.
It said a lot about the political climate that the Ministry was willing to permanently dedicate two investigators to the case, even when Headmaster Dumbledore assured them that it was ‘not necessary’.
The school was already alive with gossip about the Aurors. Ron Weasley had certainly not been shy about sharing the details of his daring escapade in the Forbidden Forest. Before long, everyone in the school knew that the Aurors were here to search for a unicorn killer and half of them seemed to believe that Harry and Draco had been captured by said unicorn killing maniac and nearly murdered before Professor Snape came charging in to save the day.
Blaise had been keeping them up-to-date on all the best gossip across the other houses that morning, “I heard they’ve been interviewing the students as well as the staff,” he’d explained on Friday night. He always managed to get the best gossip from in school before anyone else in Slytherin. “They’re asking about certain 'unusual events' that have occurred this year. You know questions about … trolls, cursed bludgers…”
Harry kept his face straight as he'd listened, tried his best to Occlude the hope away, because he couldn’t afford to become complacent.
There was still time for everything to fall apart.
Still… he couldn’t crush the embers of hope that burned inside his chest.
Neville’s spine was straight and his chin up as he walked into McGonagall’s office, but Harry could see the tenseness in his jaw and the faint shiver in his hands. Kingsley kept a hand on Neville’s back as they walked into the room. A solid presence to keep the young wizard grounded.
Professor McGonagall smiled kindly at Neville. “You look very smart, Mr Longbottom. New school robes?”
Neville smiled nervously and brushed his hand down them. He looked completely different with his own robes on. No longer stuffed into his father’s school clothes as they clung tight to him like a skin that would never fit.
At some point since yesterday, someone had given Neville a haircut as well. Forcing the Gryffindor’s floppy blonde hair out of his eyes and framing his face properly.
“Y-yeah,” Neville whispered. “Kingsley got them for me.”
McGonagall nodded in approval. “An excellent idea,” she said, then cleared her throat. “I want to remind you that… I want to make certain you’re aware that this meeting is your choice, your decision, and you do not owe it to anyone to continue with it if you do not wish to. If, at any point, you wish to walk away, we will. I may not… I may not be permitted to speak on your behalf once the meeting begins… but the moment you tell me you wish to leave, I will step in and bring you back to Hogwarts. Be assured of that. Simply tell me, and I will inform the goblins to end the meeting there.”
Neville swallowed hard. “O-okay,” he muttered. “Thanks, Professor.”
Harry knew he wouldn’t though.
He’d sit through whatever abuse his grandmother or Great Uncle Algie lobbed at him, because he wanted so desperately to avoid the alternative.
Because it was either this… or basically having Neville’s Gran institutionalized.
Harry knew that they had enough evidence to suggest she was unfit and unstable. She probably wasn’t even well enough to properly take care of herself, let alone a child… but Harry knew that Neville would hate himself for having any part of that.
He’d hate himself for sticking her in a hospital… the way that she’d been forced to do to her own son and daughter-in-law.
Neville would do it though, if he had to. Harry knew that as well.
A few months ago, Harry didn’t think that Neville would have been able to, but now the Gryffindor seemed to be a different wizard entirely. More certain of himself. More confident. More certain of what he deserved and what he didn’t. Now, Harry was sure that if Augusta Longbottom walked out of that room without signing over guardianship, she’d quickly come to regret it… but Harry still hoped that it didn’t come to that. He didn’t want that burden to hang over his friend’s conscience.
The day before, Harry, Theo and Neville had found a quiet spot together in an empty classroom and went over Neville’s statement, preparing for the meeting with his Gran. He stuttered his way through some of it, occasionally stopping to go over the meditation techniques he’d learned with Madam Pomfrey.
Neville practiced until even Harry could probably recite the statement from memory.
Even though this terrified him… even though he was petrified of stepping into a room with his Gran and Great Uncle Algie and listening to their vitriol… he was still determined to do it, because it was either this or the last resort.
Kingsley turned to Neville, squeezing his shoulder and smiling down at him. “You can do this,” he whispered. “Remember what I said.”
Neville smiled tearfully in reply and then burst forwards and gripped the Auror in a desperate hug, sniffing into Kingsley’s robes while the tall wizard leaned down and returned the embrace.
When Neville was finally ready, he drew back, wiping his eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath. He swallowed hard and turned to McGonagall, chin lifted. “I… I’m ready.”
McGonagall’s eyes glistened slightly as she nodded.
She went through the Floo first, with Neville beside her. Harry and Theo followed behind, arriving in some posh back-room of Gringotts with gold and black marble on the floor and a goblin waiting for them, wearing a tailored suit as they gazed at a golden pocketwatch in their hand.
“Right on time,” the goblin said, turning to Neville. “The Lady Regent Augusta Longbottom and her brother, Mr Algernon Crouch, have just arrived as well.”
Neville sucked in a sharp breath and then became very pale. The shiver in his hands returned.
The goblin eyed the Gryffindor in the silence that followed. “If you wish to skip this step and move straight to our back-up strategy, Mr Longbottom, I am prepared to put a stop to the meeting at any time.”
“N-no, I…” Neville swallowed, “I just need… I need a moment to…”
“Very well,” the goblin said, “take your time.”
Neville took a deep breath as he stood by the Floo, as if preparing himself for a quick escape.
Harry wanted to step in. To assure his friend that everything would be okay. To tell him not to worry, but… but of course he had a reason to worry.
Neville was stepping into a room with his abuser. He was supposed to sit opposite the man who’d thrown him from a window and nearly drowned him by shoving him off a pier.
There was a huge possibility that this was going to be a horrific, scarring experience… and a pointless one at that.
If it were Harry in Neville’s shoes, he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t have the nerve. He’d just go for the final option and walk away.
“Nev,” Harry choked out, clearing his throat as his friend looked up at him with glistening eyes, “I… I know that you don’t always agree, I know that your Gran and Algie wouldn’t, but…” he said, smiling awkwardly over at his friend, “… but there’s a reason you’re in Gryffindor. There’s a reason that the Hat put you there. You’re tougher than you think, and… and I know that this scares the hell out of you, but that doesn’t make you any less brave… because the fact is that… that you’re doing it anyway. Even though it scares you stiff, you still want to do it, and… and that’s the reason… that’s the reason you’re a lion, Neville. So just… remember that, yeah?”
Harry swallowed hard as Neville stared over at him with wide, tear-soaked eyes, then the Gryffindor launched across the gap between them and grabbed Harry into a choking hug, sobbing and holding on tight while Harry did an awkward impression of someone who knew how to hug properly.
Neville pulled back after a moment, with tears in his eyes and a grateful smile upon his lips.
“Thank you,” he whispered, sniffing and wiping the wetness away and turning to the goblin. “I’m ready.”
#
If Harry hadn’t already loathed Neville’s Great Uncle Algie with a fiery passion, he would have come to hate him fairly quickly when, upon their entering the meeting room, the grey-haired wizard jumped to his feet, his eyes bulging dangerously and his his white moustache twitching with fury and then bellowed at them.
“WHO THE HELL IS THIS?!”
McGonagall’s mouth pressed tightly into a line. “Mr Longbottom, just like Lady Regent Longbottom, was permitted to bring his friends along as support —”
“Slytherins?!” The wizard sneered from the other side of the large oak table, standing alongside his sister, Augusta Longbottom née Crouch, as the dowager sat with her back straight and reddened eyes facing determinedly at an ornate clock sitting on the opposite wall.
Never once glancing over at her grandson.
Never once acknowledging that Neville had even entered the room.
Algie narrowed his eyes at Harry and Theo, and Neville flinched and went very still between them. “We want them GONE! Merlin only knows who their parents are! Get them out of my sight!”
“Mr Crouch,” the goblin cut in, “you have no say over who Mr Longbottom permits to attend this meeting with him. Just as Mr Longbottom had no say over who the Lady Regent chose to attend with her.”
Algie narrowed his eyes at the goblin, gnashing his teeth. He had the sort of energy that took up a whole room. The way that Harry’s Uncle Vernon did. Even though Algernon Crouch was nowhere near as physically imposing as Vernon Dursley was, he had the same booming voice. The same aggressive, puffed up sense of authority and entitlement.
Algie was the same sort of man as Vernon Dursley. The type who had learned that if he yelled loud enough, he would eventually get his way. This was the sort of man who’d been taught to bang tables and bellow and intimidate until others did as he said.
This was a man who’d always been a bully.
The way that Vernon Dursley had always been a bully.
The way that Dudley had been raised to be a bully.
Harry felt himself unconsciously step closer to Neville, standing just ahead of him, as if to shield him from whatever hate and bile this bastard sent his way. Out the corner of his eye, Harry spotted Theo doing the same.
“This is outrageous!” Algie bellowed, his face turning red as Harry felt Neville shrink behind them. “After all that poor Gussy has been suffering through because of this ungrateful, pathetic excuse for —”
“Mr Crouch,” the goblin cut in, “either sit down and allow me to begin the meeting or leave. You do not have the authority to command this meeting.”
Algie appeared murderous. His lips tightened and his eyes bulged impossibly wider. His handlebar mustache twitched with a sneer but after a moment of impotent fury, he glanced at his impassive sister, who sat unmoving in the seat to his right, and reluctantly he took his seat.
There was a silence, thick and unbearable. The goblin turned to Neville. “Mr Longbottom, if you would like to continue, please take your seat.”
Neville looked pale as a specter. His hands were shivering and his gaze downcast. He looked as if he were considering bolting right out the door again, but he simply closed his eyes, breathed in and out again, and took his first step down the right-hand side of the table.
Neville walked slowly, head held high even though he appeared terrified. He hesitated as he stopped in the middle seat, opposite his Gran, but then pulled the seat out and lowered himself opposite.
Harry and Theo walked behind him. Theo sat at Neville’s left side, Harry sat at his right, the Goblin took the seat at the head of the table and McGonagall stood by the door, in plain view of everyone, glowering at the two figures sitting opposite her lion.
Augusta Longbottom still refused to look at her grandson.
Her gaze was fastened on the clock behind his head, watching the second hand tick… tick… tick… in the overwhelming silence.
Harry could see Neville’s hands grip tightly into fists under the the table. His gaze fastened on a spot on the table, not daring to look up and see his Great Uncle Algie glare at him accusingly… and his Gran stare past him as if he didn’t exist.
Harry’s gut swooped with dread at the sight of it.
He wanted to grab his friend and pull him from the room. He wanted to yell at the witch across from him that she was an idiot for not seeing how incredible Neville was. He wanted to spit in Algernon fucking Crouch’s face and wish him a swift trip to Hades.
But he couldn’t.
Because Harry wasn’t here to fight Neville’s battles.
He just hoped that Neville was ready to fight this battle for himself.
“If we’re all settled, then let us begin,” the goblin said, pulling a set of papers free of a briefcase. “Lady Regent Augusta Longbottom has provisionally agreed to sign over custody of her grandson, Neville Longbottom, upon the following conditions being met. The first, Mr Longbottom himself must formally request that Lady Regent Longbottom give up his custody and sign said custody over to Kingsley Shacklebolt. The second, Mr Longbottom must make this statement in person, in the presence of Lady Regent Longbottom. Thirdly, Lady Regent Longbottom will be allowed to live out her life in Longbottom Manor, and will be provided the funds necessary to maintain the estate, alongside the pension fund which Lord Longbottom bequeathed to her in his Will. Fourthly, Mr Longbottom must return to Lady Regent Longbottom the spruce and unicorn hair wand previously owned by one Frank Longbottom.”
Harry jolted, eyes widening in shock and nearly interrupting the goblin before he managed to get himself under control.
Neville’s father’s wand.
She wanted Neville’s father’s wand back.
The wand that she’d forced on Neville, even though it was never going to accept him. The wand she’d made Neville believe he should be grateful to carry. The wand that Ollivander told them would be dangerous for someone as nervous as Neville to used.
And… from the way the lack of reaction from the Gryffindor, Harry could tell that Neville had already been told about this condition and agreed to it. Agreed to give up a connection to his father, to appease this witch who refused to see him as anything less than a failed version of Frank Longbottom.
Harry’s chest burned with the indignity of it.
On the other side of Neville, Harry spotted one of Theo’s hands gripping over his wand. Desperate to fling a hex, though he’d assured Neville he wouldn’t, in case it had Harry and Theo barred from the meeting altogether.
“Are those conditions agreed by both parties?” The goblin asked.
Neville nodded. Head still bowed. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.
Augusta continued staring at the clock. She didn’t move a muscle.
“Lady Regent Longbottom,” the goblin said. “I will need confirmation before we continue. Do you still agree to those conditions?”
Harry listened to the clock.
Tick… tick… tick…
Stiffly, Augusta Longbottom gave one terse nod.
The goblin paused for a moment. “Lady Regent Longbottom, I will require verbal confirmation. Do you agree to these conditions?”
The dowager’s jaw tensed and she sniffed once, nose lifting higher.
“Yes. Fine.”
The goblin nodded, satisfied and set down the parchment with a quill and pot of ink resting beside it, ready for the dowager to sign.
Algie glared at the paperwork in utter disgust, then turned the same look over towards Neville.
It struck Harry, with a cold sort of horror, that Neville had actually been raised by these callous bastards. For some reason, even though Harry was vividly familiar with the fact that not everyone who raised a child had to love or even likethem, Harry couldn’t help but be absolutely bowled over by the thought of someone raising a boy as kind and generous and brilliant as Neville, and never once appreciating him.
The idea of someone spending every day with Harry’s friend and then throwing him out a window and pushing him off a pier and hexing him and humiliating him and sitting opposite him at a table and looking at him as if he was scum on their shoe…
The only way they could do that is if they were too insane, too deranged, too self-absorbed and hateful to see what was right in front of their face… because Neville Longbottom was better than either of these bastards deserved.
“Mr Longbottom,” the goblin said, turning to the Gryffindor, “please begin in your own time. The rest of the room will now be asked to hold their silence until his statement is complete.”
Tick… tick… tick…
Harry could hear Neville’s jagged breaths and see his hands grip onto his knees. He could see, out the corner of his eye, his friend’s pale face and tense jaw.
A panic and pity thrummed through Harry’s chest for a moment, as he wondered if Neville could do this.
On Neville’s other side, Theo tentatively reached over and put his hand on Neville’s. Neither of them looked at one another, but Harry watched as they laced their fingers together and clutched tight.
Across the table, Algie scoffed. “I knew it,” he sneered. “He can't do it. Pathetic.”
“Mr Crouch,” the goblin said, “you are not permitted to speak until Mr Longbottom is finished.”
Algie scoffed again. “We’ll be here ‘til we die, then. That boy hasn’t even an inch of the spine Frank had.”
Neville’s eyes shut tight and he drew in a deep breath.
In and out.
Remembering his meditation lessons.
“G-gran,” he choked, barely a whisper as he began, “I l-love you and —“
“For Merlin’s sake, boy, SPEAK UP!” Algie barked.
“Mr Crouch,” the goblin growled. “Silence.”
“We can’t very well be forced to put up with all his dratted muttering,” Algie said, glowering at his great nephew as Augusta sat impassively beside him, staring at the clock as if her brother’s behavior was nothing of consequence. “LOUDER, BOY!”
“G-g-ran,” Neville began again, a little louder, but as he opened his mouth to continue, Algie cut in again.
“Stop that stuttering!” Algie barked. “Where’s your damned spine! Your father could fight off three Death Eaters at once and you can’t even get a damned word out without bungling it!”
“Mr Crouch!” The goblin snarled, teeth bared. “You will silence or you will leave!”
“I WILL SAY WHAT I DAMNED WELL PLEASE!” Algie burst, jumping to his feet and whirling on Neville. “Well, boy! OUT WITH IT! If you’re going to abandon your grandmother, break her heart, be quick about it at least, you spineless, USELESS BOY!”
“MR CROUCH!”
McGonagall stepped away from the door, hand wrapped around her wand. “Ye will cease bellowing at my student this very minute or —”
“Out with it!” Algie growled, banging his fist on the table.
Neville flinched.
His breathing was hard and fast.
The goblin stood, appearing about ready to either throw the wizard out the room or gut him. Professor McGonagall had her hand clutched tightly around her wand and a burning fury in her eyes, looking as if she could easily cast some very illegal spells and not feel an ounce of remorse for it.
Harry felt much the same.
He wanted to destroy this man. He wanted to step in and drag Neville from the room while these adults bickered and yelled. He wanted to spit in this wizard’s face, but he and Theo had given Neville their word they wouldn’t interfere. He just wanted them to be there. By his side.
Algernon Crouch’s face was burning absurdly red behind his grey mustache. His eyes bulging madly as he towered over an eleven year old boy. He banged his hand on the table once more, as the chaos and noise in the room rose to a cacophony.
“OUT WITH IT, BOY!” Neville’s Great Uncle Algie spat, snarling like the bully he was. “OUT WITH IT YOU USELESS DAMNED SQUIB! SPEAK UP FOR ONCE IN YOUR—”
“STUPEFY!”
Algernon Crouch’s body hit the table with an almighty thunk.
The din fell to silence, until all that could be heard was the sound of hard breaths and the clock’s steady tick… tick… tick…
Everyone’s eyes fell upon the wand raised on the right-hand side of the room.
A wand of cedar and dragon heartstring.
Theo’s words, all those months ago, rattled in Harry’s head as he watched Neville hold a wand aloft, face red and breathing heavily as he stared in horror at the man laying unconscious across the table.
“Never cross a cedar carrier, or anyone they care about.”
“NEVILLE!”
Harry looked over to see Augusta Longbottom gaping at her unconscious brother, bewildered and utterly perplexed. Apparently Neville had finally gotten his grandmother’s attention.
Neville lowered his wand and cleared his throat, keeping his chin up and his back straight even though Harry could see his wand hand shivering.
Neville kept his eyes closed for a few moments, still clutching hold of Theo’s hand and taking three calming breaths, in and out.
Then, Neville looked at his grandmother.
“Gran,” he began once again, his voice steady and his eyes shining as Augusta Longbottom’s gaze finally fell on him. “I love you… and I always will. I used to dream of making you p-proud… I still do… but I d-don’t think… I don’t think that there’s any way for me to do that… because the one thing you want from me… I can’t ever give you.”
Augusta Longbottom’s eyes began to water. Her hand clutched towards her heart.
Neville closed his eyes and breathed again, then continued. “I’m not dad… I can’t ever be dad… and I sh-shouldn’t…” he choked and cut himself off, then took another breath and went on, “I shouldn’t have had to be… you should have loved me no matter what.”
Augusta made a strangled noise and closed her eyes, but she didn’t speak.
“I know… I know that what happened to dad… that it really hurt you… and that you miss him every day. I miss him too. But you’re… you’re not well, Gran. You’ve not been well since he… since he was hurt. You’re… you’re not well enough to look after me… and I… I deserve a…” Neville swallowed, then opened his eyes again, straightening and looking at his grandmother as she gazed back at him. “I d-deserve a guardian who can love me for who I am, not someone they wish I could be.”
Harry felt a weight lift from the room.
The clock ticked behind them and Harry saw the sagging of Neville’s shoulder as the Gryffindor exhaled in relief.
Slowly, Neville stowed his wand into his holster and reached into his pocket, drawing out another wand.
Spruce and unicorn hair.
Tears rolled down Augusta Longbottom’s eyes as she spotted it. A shaking hand reached forward for it across the table.
Neville set it in his grandmother’s hands, but hesitated before he let it go.
“Let…” Neville paused, “let dad hold it sometimes,” he asked, blinking away tears of his own. “I… I think it misses him.”
Augusta Longbottom’s face crumpled with silent tears as she nodded. When Neville let the wand go, she pulled it away and cradled it to her chest.
When Neville’s hand sank back to his lap, it fell upon the laced into Theo’s. Clutching onto the Slytherin like he was a lifeline.
Harry had believed that it was for comfort, but on second thought maybe Neville had been keeping hold of Theo’s wand hand to ensure that his best friend didn’t hex anyone half-way to St Mungo’s.
The goblin flicked a finger and sent the papers, quill and inkwell careening around Algie’s unconscious body until it rested ahead of the dowager. She stared at them with streaming eyes, her lip quivering. “N-no, I… I can’t… I —”
The goblin looked as if they were about to snap something threatening, but Neville cut in before they got the chance. “Gran,” he said softly, staring at her pleadingly. “Please.”
The Augusta Longbottom who sat across from Harry now seemed half the size of the woman who’d stared past Neville like he was not worthy of her attention. It was only then, as she reached a shivering hand over to the inkwell and signed the papers, that Harry finally saw what Neville saw. A sick old woman who’d lost the son she loved… and then never recovered.
She didn't react when the goblin called the meeting to a close, or look up when Neville, Theo and Harry got to their feet.
Neville stood for a moment, waiting to see if she’d acknowledge him, but she seemed deflated as she stared down at her son’s wand. “Bye Gran,” he whispered, swallowing hard, “please take care of yourself.”
As they walked out the door and into the long corridor back to the Floo, it took Harry a moment to realize that Neville still hadn’t let go of Theo’s hand.
* * *