Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.
Written for the Minor Characters Drabble Challenge by Opaque-girl
Alice Longbottom sat on a couch in her living room, and on her lap was a quill and parchment.
She had known that she would have to do this some time, but it seemed so final, like already assuming that she would die.
She was writing her own will.
Albus had told all the members of the Order of the Phoenix to do this, as Voldemort could attack any day now.
She was one of the last, other than Lily And James. They had decided not to make a will.
Alice knew that she had to do this, and she was determined to at least start it today.
Or write a single sentence.
She breathed deeply in and out, trying- and failing- to calm herself.
"What matters most to you?" Dumbledore had asked her.
She had replied, "The Order, Frank, Neville..."
But they were all people, this was a will, a will of what to do with her posessions.
But she didn't know what to write!
She wished that, instead of a new hat, Frank had given her an idea of what to write for her birthday.
The hat!
Maybe he had given her an idea..
Who could she leave it to?
Not Frank's mother, she always wore that...interesting stuffed vulture hat.
It was too feminine to leave for Neville.
Maybe she could give it to him, just for him to keep.
Her wedding ring, well, she had to give it to Neville, it was just the most obvious thing to do.
She continued writing, then realized something.
She was leaving everything to her son.
And the prophecy...
It could mean Harry, Lily and James' son, but still...
What was she to do?
Alice heard a soft cry from Neville's room, so she set down her quill and rushed over to him.
He was the most beautiful baby in the world, she was sure of it.
But he could die.
She noticed that he was holding an old picture of the Order, ten or fifteen years ago.
"Where did he get that?" she wondered out loud.
She gently took it from his hands.
And then she knew what she had to do, after looking at the faded photograph for a moment.
The next day, she sat next to Neville, who was sleeping in his crib.
She wrote in her will, with Lily's permission, that whoever's son lived would get everything.
She glanced over at Neville and whispered in his ear.
"I hope you don't die, my son."