Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters…
A spirit of stone and a heart of diamond
Augusta Longbottom dodged as another jet of green missed her by a few inches.
The opponent before her cackled insanely, and it was quite clear that it was Bellatrix Lestrange she was dueling against.
To many, this would have sounded synonymous with their death sentence, but, not for Augusta Katherine Longbottom.
She dueled with the death eater before her with as much resilience as that came from her opponent.
"Ready to join your son?" Bellatrix called out as she sent yet another killing curse, which, yet again missed her and hit a suit of armor, which burst into flames, distracting the duelers near by.
"At least my conscience will be sated of finishing off an evil wench!"
The reply was followed by a jet of so bright a red that Bellatrix was blinded, and fell to the floor, stunned.
"Look out!"
Augusta Longbottom turned around but, it was, as it always is in the tragic cases of noble people, too late.
The Sectumsempra hit her in the chest, and she fell to the floor, her life running before her eyes,
The first time she had performed magic, it had not been because of anger, or frustration. It had been because of love.
She had accidentally used a spell to heal her brother's bruise, without even knowing it.
And that same love had made her hold on, had brought her this far, had made her this prominent, in her otherwise long and tedious life, riddled with wars and unforgiveables.
The face of her husband, and her first love, both being miraculously the same, appeared before her and she couldn't help but smile at it.
Even after all these years, it still warmed her heart to remember his smiling face and merry temper.
Awkward as he had been at Hogwarts, he had pursued her, she, who had been deemed the most unapproachable girl in the entirety of the school's female population.
She had always been the slowest and the most precautious, when it came to whom she loved.
He had been the first one who had earned it, and the only one who had ever realized the extent of her affection.
Then there had been the threat of Grindelwald, and her husband had left to fight him, leaving her and their eight year old son behind.
She never blamed Dumbledore for his death, even though he had been the one who had sent him, because, she knew, not even the most powerful restraining charm could have stopped Ralph Longbottom if his mind had been set.
And when she had learnt the news, she did not cry, for, it was not her way of mourning.
She took to diverting her attention towards her son, who was by now attending Hogwarts, and was fast becoming a father's son.
When Frank Longbottom had chosen to become an Auror, Augusta had neither stopped him, nor, encouraged him.
A person who had faced the worst of one of the wars, and was starting to face the beginnings of a second one, knew to keep her emotions out of the way, knew what needed to be done was more essential than what she wanted done.
But, there was a silver lining to every cloud and, in almost all of them; it had some thing to do with love, and family.
The first time she had seen her grandson, she had set it in her head that he'd be exactly like his grand father and her treatment of him was such.
The fated day of Halloween had been the first time she had allowed her self to think of the deaths she had seen, after all the situation of her son and daughter-in-law, was much worse.
It had taken her a few years, but, she had gotten used to losing a dear one, and being left the responsibility of bringing up another very early in life.
The childhood of her grandson passed without much hassle, and it was when she first learnt that Harry Potter was returning to Hogwarts, that she knew the sunny days were over.
Not that he had any thing to do with darkness personally.
But, Augusta had seen too many wars to be ignorant of the pending battle.
And she had been right, many lives were lost, many more's lives scarred, but, it had all been for the best in the end.
As she had always believed, every thing must be for the greater good and the sacrifices in the way had to be made.
The woman who had silently braved not one, or two, but three deadly wars was no more when what she had fought for was finally within reach.
The contributions of Augusta Longbottom may not be found in history, but, only because she never liked the subject her self, and saw no point in belonging to some thing that she never supported any way.
A/n: Review!