This story was obviously inspired by McGonagall telling Neville in HBP that she planned to write to Augusta Longbottom. In my version, she's changed her mind and decided to visit instead. This is the story of that visit. It is also, I think, somehow become something of a character study for MM.

If you enjoy - or don't enjoy, and want to tell me why - please, please review. Reviews are a fanfic author's food and drink!

"Augusta? May I come through?"

Augusta Longbottom looked up from the plants she was tending, and a broad smile crossed her face. "Minerva McGonagall! Of course you may. Gillywater?"

Once Minerva had settled into one of the straight backed chairs and supplied with her drink, Augusta looked at her old friend with curiosity. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at school?"

Minerva snorted and took a sip of her gillywater. "I'm a professor, not a prisoner, Augusta."

Augusta's eyes narrowed. "That may be so, but it's not like you to go gallivanting. Is this a social call, or are you here for some other reason?"

Minerva's rare smile crossed her face. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a suspicious mind?"

"You have; many times."

"Hmph. As it happens, I do have a reason for being here, but I warn you that you may not like it."

Augusta raised her eyebrows. "I assume you're referring to that grandson of mine," she said,

casually.

Minerva set her glass to one side with a loud clack. "Yes."

She paused and seemed to struggle to take a deep breath, much to Augusta's alarm. Either Minerva was about to give her a patented McGonagall ticking-off, or the other woman was still feeling the effects of the Stunning incident in June. Augusta half rose. "Minerva, are you all right? Will I call - "

Minerva waved an impatient hand at her. "Sit down, Augusta, do. There's nothing wrong with me except being a little winded. Honestly, the way you all carry on, you'd think I was at death's door!"

"You very nearly were," Augusta reminded her gently. "And much as you may hate to admit it, one can't take these assaults at seventy as we did at seventeen."

Minerva snorted again. "I don't remember you being Stunned at seventeen!"

Despite herself, Augusta grinned. "I wasn't, no. I was that rarity: a cautious Gryffindor. Unlike you, my impulsive friend!"

Much to Augusta's surprise, Minerva neither laughed nor responded to the implicit insult. Instead, she took a long sip of her gillywater, and Augusta found herself shifting a little under that unwavering, cat-like grey stare. "Well?" she prompted at last.

Minerva gave a very small complacent grin that was at once totally cattish and at the same time totally uncharacteristic. "You're too easy to discomfit, Augusta. Now, Neville. Augusta, you must let that boy be himself!" Minerva leaned forward and her voice held more emotion than Augusta had heard from her for quite some time. " Neville's a good boy, Augusta, really he is. I'll grant you that he's neither academically brilliant nor recklessly courageous -"

Augusta grimaced. "You mean the boy should have been in Hufflepuff!"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about. You say that as if it's an insult. I agree Neville shows some Hufflepuff traits, quite apart from the rapport he has with Pomona Sprout due to their shared passion for plants. He's steady and unflinchingly loyal. Those are good things, Augusta. He's no leader in the way that Harry Potter, for example, is a leader – but your grandson is no sheep-like follower either. Remember, back when he was a first year, he tried to prevent those three from going on their wild hunt for the Philosopher's Stone – and got Petrified by Miss Granger for his pains. Neville has never been a popular student. Standing up for his House against three of the few friends he did have ... well, it took more courage for him to do that than it did for me to run out after Hagrid in June. The boy's a true Gryffindor, in the best sense of the word. He doesn't deserve your constant put-downs."

Augusta felt her cheeks turn from gentle pink to flaming red as Minerva spoke, but she could not take offence. Everything the other woman said was absolutely true. Augusta had worshipped and adored her only child, Frank, who had proved from an early age to be a very powerful wizard and ultimately an outstanding Auror. When she'd found herself responsible for Frank's son after Bellatrix Lestrange's vicious attack on Frank and his wife, she'd determined that Neville would be Frank over again. She'd forgotten to allow for the fact that Neville was not, could not be, and never would be Frank Longbottom...

Minerva's voice became unusually gentle. "Do you know that Neville regards himself as being little better than a Squib? I've heard him joke about being 'almost a Squib' to the others. In actual fact, as I've tried to tell him, there's absolutely nothing wrong with his work except lack of confidence."

Augusta's eyes dimmed with sudden tears. "That's my fault," she whispered. "We had such high hopes for him, for Frank's baby. And year after year passed and still there was no sign of magic ... it was such a relief when Algie dropped him out of that window and he bounced!"

Minerva's eyes were unflinching. "You do realise that Muggles would consider Algie's actions to be border-line child abuse?"

Augusta felt the hot colour drain from her face. "There isn't any child abuse in the wizarding world," she said feebly.

"Don't fool yourself, Augusta. There is. It may not take the same forms, but every year I see them sit before me when I place the Hat on their heads." Minerva dropped her eyes. "I've always felt secretly relieved that the most troubled children end up in either Hufflepuff or – or Slytherin."

"Why?" Augusta asked, relieved at the chance to deflect attention from her own shortcomings.

One of Minerva's eyebrows twitched. "Troubled children often have a great desire to prove themselves, and avoiding abuse teaches cunning. Therefore they become natural candidates for Slytherin ... and I must admit that they are well served there now. Severus Snape was once an abused child himself. He knows the signs." She sighed, and Augusta thought she saw regret flash across the other woman's face. "Neither Albus nor I recognised those signs a quarter century ago. I often wonder how things would have changed if we had done so."

"And Hufflepuff?" Augusta urged, leaving the question of Snape's past aside.

Minerva smiled a little. "Some of those troubled children have a deep need to be loved, to be cherished. They find that with Pomona, in Hufflepuff." She looked rueful, Augusta thought. "Pomona is a maternal woman by nature. Nurturing children comes as naturally to her as nurturing plants. I .. am not a maternal woman. I would fight for my charges, I would kill for them, and I would die for them – but I cannot hold them while they cry, or offer words of comfort in their time of need. Nor would they expect me to. They are self-sufficient, my Gryffindors."

"Brave little lions," Augusta supplemented, with a smile.

Minerva inclined her head. "Indeed. But cubs do not become lions overnight, Augusta. Neville is maturing into a young lion that you can be proud of, but he needs your help and encouragement, not constant comparisons to a father he can not remember and whom he can never match. Buying him a wand of his own was a good first step, but frankly, Augusta, it should have been done five years ago. Which brings me to my next point. Neville's NEWTs."

Augusta knew her surprise was showing in her face. "His NEWTs? I thought that was settled?"

Minerva gave her a rather grim smile. "Neville will not be taking Transfiguration at NEWT level. He will be taking Charms instead."

"Charms!" Augusta scoffed. "What use will that be? Transfiguration would be much better!"

"Just because you failed your OWL in Charms doesn't mean the subject isentirely useless," Minerva retorted tartly. "Neville will never be more than adequate at Transfiguration, mainly because his lack of confidence gets in the way. That's not good enough at NEWT level, and to be honest with you, at this level I do not have the time to be constantly reassuring an uncertain student. Most of NEWT level Transfiguration consists of pursuing their own projects for coursework, and I don't think Neville could handle that requirement."

"How do you know he'll be any better in Charms if his self-esteem is as poor as all that?" Augusta demanded, rather nettled by Minerva's reminder of her own failed OWL.

"Your grandson's self-esteem has come on in leaps and bounds over the past year with that Dumbledore's Army business," Minerva told her mildly. "I understand they did a certain amount of Charms work in that, and Neville reaped the results with an 'E', may I remind you. He tends to respond better teachers who are not overtly authoritative, which I fancy explains his cordial relationships with both Pomona and Filius Flitwick. I know he's rather intimidated by me – possibly because I remind him too much of you! - and he's absolutely terrified of Severus Snape."

"From what I've heard of Severus Snape, that doesn't surprise me. I understand his teaching methods verge on the sadistic."

"They do, rather," Minerva agreed. "I've broached the subject with Albus many times, but all he ever says is that we need Severus and that Albus trusts him completely. What can I say to that? I certainly can't dispute the fact that Severus's results are invariably good – and with all his failings, at least he's never tortured the students in the way Dolores Umbridge did last year."

Augusta saw Minerva place one hand on her heart, and Augusta guessed the other woman was remembering her own confrontations with Hogwarts' temporary and much-despised Headmistress. She leaned forward. "At least Dolores is gone now, and you and Albus are back where you should be." She sighed. "I'm glad you think so well of Neville, Minerva. I know you're right in what you say, and he's growing up so fast now ... and dark times are coming." She shivered. "I know he'll join the Order as soon as he's allowed do, just as his father did. I am proud of him, no matter what he – or you – may think. I just need to make sure that he knows that. If something should happen -"

Minerva rose, and when Augusta looked up into her old friend's face she saw a rare softness there. Minerva reached out a long slim hand, and Augusta took it and squeezed it. "Thanks for coming, Minerva," she murmured.

"It was my pleasure," Minerva responded, a little gruffly. Augusta thought that she saw a hint of tears in the steady grey eyes facing hers. "Just – just tell him you're proud of him, Augusta. He needs to hear it from you. He's not a child any more, and he's seen unspeakable things. They all have, and they'll probably see more before this horrible war is done. We don't know what tomorrow may bring, and – and if he survives what's coming, he'll have to help build a new future when we old folk are put out to pasture. Let him face all that knowing you love him and are proud of him."

Augusta gave the hand she still held another squeeze. "I will. I promise."

Minerva gave her another of her rare full smiles. "Thank you. I had better get back to school now. Take care of yourself, my friend, and keep safe."

"You too," Augusta whispered, feeling suddenly drained.

Minerva nodded in her contained way and stepped into the fireplace. A moment later and she was gone in a whirl of green flames and smoke. Augusta continued to stare at the fire long after the flames had returned to Gryffindor red and gold. Her world had shifted, somehow, in the last hour, and was suddenly a bleaker place. As she moved away, her eye fell on a photo Neville had given her the previous year. It showed him receiving the Subject Prize for Herbology two years before. Augusta watched the photo-Neville move to take his prize from a beaming Pomona Sprout and then turn to smile proudly at the camera over and over...

She crossed to her writing table with firm, decisive movements. She had a very important letter to write.

-end.