AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is for the Season 7 Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition and I am this year's SEEKER for Puddlemere United!!! I'm challenging myself in both writing and socializing so, wish me luck! (or send me a "felix" *wink* *wink*)
PROMPT: Round One's theme is Comedy, and for the first promt, we got Monty Python:
"The LumberJack Song". Best lyric? "I cut down trees, I wear high heels. Suspendies and a bra. I wish I'd been a girlie, just like my dear Mama." Write about a transgender character.
So, hope this works.
Beta: Marvelgeek42, SilvermistRuhi, JBrocks917 and ginnys01
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When he first told her he was different, she was incensed.
The scion of the House of Longbottom, a queer? She lashed out and spoke some choice words for her grandson then.
"You're 17! Just a few more months until you finish in Hogwarts and then you can learn the ways of the Winzengamot! How dare you ruin the name of our House!"
"You're the last male scion of our House! You can't just choose who you are and especially what you wanted to be!"
Despite his attempts to tell her that indeed, he didn't choose who he became, they still ended on a bad note.
He went back to Hogwarts.
She was left alone.
In hindsight, she really should have known.
Neville was hers from the moment the boy's parents were taken to St. Mungo's for being tortured into insanity.
He watched him grew up.
The boy who would rather make daisy-chains than ruin them.
She sighed. She really should have known.
Now, she received a patronus from Minerva, telling her that the Potter boy arrived at Hogwarts and that the Final Battle would probably occur in mere hours.
She didn't hesitate.
As soon as the patronus ended, she gripped her wand tightly and disapparated to Hogsmeade, went straight to Hog's Head and into the portrait - she'd rather die than let something happen to her Neville.
The battle was already in full swing when she arrived.
'Dear Godric,' she thought as she saw the ruins that was the old hallway to the Seventh Floor.
Briefly, she saw Lucius Malfoy's son entering the room from whence she came, taking with him two other students.
She hoped they'd be safe.
'They're just kids,' she prayed again, to no one in particular, as she fired off spell after spell towards men whom she knew were Death Eaters.
"Where's my grandson?!" she yelled as soon as she saw Minerva near the third floor staircase.
"Minerva! Where's my Neville?!" she tried again. This time, seeing the pain reflected in the other woman's eyes.
It didn't comfort her. Especially, when she said some of the words that she hoped she wouldn't hear that night.
"Augusta, I'm sorry, I really don't know," and then with a few words of comfort.
She wouldn't cry.
No.
Not yet.
Not until she sees a body.
Her Neville's dead body.
She wouldn't.
She promised her Frank that she'd take care of his boy - that she'd make sure his Neville will live.
She promised her daughter-in-law that she'd make sure to keep her Neville happy.
Always.
Always.
"Just let my Neville live," she breathed through gritted teeth as ahe continued to cast hexes through oncoming Death Eaters.
One of these Death Eater's down, one less Death Eater who could harm her baby.
Her Neville.
"God, if you're out there and you did not take care of my Neville, I swear to magic itself that I'll find a way to get back at you," she said as she continued to trudge down to what used to be the grand staircase.
When she finally saw her grandson, it was with a mixture of relief, horror, and pride.
Her Neville was leading a group of students towards the group of Death Eaters, holding his wand on his right hand and a sword on the other.
He looked battered and he was most definitely bruised - and she knew it was bad form to stop and stare during war, especially when the fight is ongoing, but she cut herself some slack. She just saw the boy she raised alive, it was such a moment for her when clarity came crashing down.
She loves her grandson.
She loves her Neville.
She loves her Neville and nothing else mattered aside from seeing his grandchild alive and happy.
Her heart swelled at that thought.
Alive and Happy, just like what she promised Frand and Alice that their child would be.
She turned to the Death Eaters firing off spells at Andromeda Black's - no, 'Tonks?' she thought, as she saw the woman whose hair changes colors depending on the oncoming spell, probably to warn off the nearby groups to duck, just in case.
Andromeda Tonks' daughter's back was turned, however, and she saw a green flash - she knew what it was, and immediately, she sent a blasting hex towards the woman and hoped to Merlin it reached her before the Killing curse got to her first.
When she saw her grandchild again, it was during the cease fire.
The Potter boy was given an hour to give himself up or the rest of them would perish at Voldemort's hands.
Unfortunately, it was also the time to count their dead.
He saw her grandchild hunched up at one of the bodies lying at the Great Hall.
"Neville," she called him as she placed her right hand on her grandson's shoulders, trying to comfort him.
"Grandmother, he was the only one who knew," she heard him choke out in between sobs.
"He knew - He knew and he accepted me," she heard him continue, as if willing her to understand his pain.
"He was my best mate," another sob, "Now he's dead!" she heard him yell finally before dissolving into more bouts of tears.
She never took off her hand on his shoulders - at least, not until he stood up and she made him turn towards her and hugged him.
She hugged him with all she had.
'I'm here,' she thought but was never said.
'I understand,' was another.
"I love you," was what came out from her lips, but it was probably for the best.
Her Nevile hugged her back.
And cried to her just as he did when he was young.
They were separated again when the fight resumed.
When the Second Wizarding War finally ended, the first thing she did was look for her Neville and hugged him.
"I'm so so proud of you Neville," she said close to his ear, "Your parents would have loved to have seen you tonight," she added, her eyes misting when she felt his grandchild's body shook.
"I'm sorry Grandmother, that I became what I am," she heard him say, "I failed you; I failed our House; I failed -" she heard him continue but she cut him off just then.
"No one," she said.
"You failed no one," she repeated with more conviction this time.
"Let's go home, Neville," she told her grandchild, pulling back and meeting the boy or girl, stare for stare, until the younger relented and gave her a small nod and a smile to which she returned ten-fold.
'In the end, love was what mattered,' she thought. In the end, it didn't matter whether her Neville wanted to be identified as a man or a woman.
'Alive and Happy,' she repeated in her head.
He or She was her Neville, full stop.
She was his or her grandmother.
'The whole world could burn for all I care,' she thought finally, as she continued to smile.
A minute could have passed, or an hour, but eventually, they pulled apart, and for the second time that day, she disapparated. This time, holding on to the proof of her life and love, her grandchild.
Her Neville.