"My boy was always kind hearted and happy, very accommodating to others, even his birth, I found was easy. We lived just outside of Ottery St Catchpole when he was born, and moved to Milborne St Andrew when he was six, he'd made friends with the muggle children down the road and were still good friends before he joined the Aurors. He was, in his infant years well behaved and quiet, he won the heart of any person who'd come to see him, and grew into a perfect little gentleman. His attending Hogwarts saw him sorted into Gryffindor, a common house for members of our family, and he was a talented and dedicated student, with many good friends around him. He was made a prefect in his fifth year and head boy in his seventh, then began his auror training right away, which he excelled in and completed in half the usual time required."

The old witch paused for a moment, Her grandson half rising out of his seat, as if to go to her. But she continued and he stayed in his seat, holding the hand of a kind faced woman who was staring at the ceiling and absently fiddling with a lolly wrapper.

"What could I have ever said about his lovey wife?" The speaker said, looking to the lady sitting by her grandson. "My son met the love of his life in battle, saved her, and kind soul that he was kept in touch during her recovery, the next step was to marry and shortly after that their only son was born." She paused for a long time now, her grandson was still sitting, furiously wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. The woman sitting next to him handed him a handful of tissues with a pleased look on her sweet face. "They would be so proud of him, but my son has been a long way away for a long time, and it's not fair they missed so much of their son's life and the life they..." She paused, and a sorrowful murmur went across the room. "I have always been proud of the sacrifice they made for their boy, I'd have made the same for mine, given the chance. But I never thought I would have to give my son's Eulogy." She paused again, the woman in the front row was clapping. The grandson held her shoulder gently. She stood, drawing the attention of the gathers witches and wizards there and went to the casket, where she smiled at the body there and reached for his shoulder, as though to wake him. Both the speaker and her grandson had moved forward to stop her, but they were too late. When he didn't wake the mad woman screamed, as though she were in immense physical pain.

"Alice," Augusta Longbottom said, grabbing the woman with a gentle but firm hand and drawing her near in an embrace, the woman seemed to calm some, Augusta led her back to her seat.

The coffin was closed by Neville and five men came forward, all around the age of the grandson. Two red haired men, a man with glasses, a darker skinned man and one with brown hair. With three on each side they carried the casket outside, where it was left levitating over a deep, dark hole in the ground, the funeral guests gathered. So slowly the coffin was lowered as a sad song was played by a man with a violin. Alice watched with an incomprehensible look on her face, caught between grief, horror and confusion. Augusta though, strong for so long was now sobbing, and Neville was there with her, a steading presence giving what little comfort could be offered.

Flowers, trinkets and photographs were thrown in by the guests, then the crowd slowly dissipated, leaving Augusta, Neville and Alice as the last people to walk back up the grassy hill.

The wake was done in a small garden, in the back of Augusta's little house with only a handful of people, Augusta held a small glass of Cherry as people offered their condolences.

"How is she?" Augusta asked her grandson when he finally made an appearance.

"Not well." Neville said, "Maybe I shouldn't have left her."

"She will be fine, the staff will care for her."

"She shouldn't be left with staff at a time like this, Gran." Neville argued, the formidable old lady frowned.

"Don't argue with me, Neville, you're needed here now, and Alice needs to be in the Hospital now. It's safe for her there, its familiar there, and she needs to be used to being alone."

Neville seemed to deflate. "I am still going to visit as often as I can," He told her. "I don't like to leave her."

"Alice will be fine, Neville, you don't need to spend your days siting by her, she wouldn't want that, you have a job and that girl to spend your time with."

He looked unsure, angry, even but Augusta was done talking with him and went to refill her cherry.

"Neville," A hand was extended, belonging to one of the pall bearer's from the funeral, the younger of the two red heads.

"Ron," Neville greeted, the men shook hands.

"You okay?" Ron asked, he had never been one to really talk about feelings, Neville appreciated his presence, none the less, Ron had always made a good rock.

"I am." Neville admitted, and it was true, "I got used to what happened a long time ago, especially after the war – I understood what they went through and why. Now I'm just worried for my mum, she's all alone there. Gran doesn't think she'll notice that he's gone… but I know she will."

"Course she will," Ron grunted, "They went through all that and she still loved him and he still loved her, and its different to the deaths in the war." Ron continued, and Neville knew he was thinking of Fred, "He got sick and passed away, and that's hard, he might have been sick but he was still too young to die and now, she is alone and it will be hard for her but you can't stop living mate, you know that."

Neville sighed. "Yeah. Yeah I know, I guess… I just wish it had been different." Ron clapped a hand on Neville's shoulder and left him to his thoughts, Neville offered him a smile in thanks.

Later on in the night when the guests had disappeared and it was just Neville and Augusta left she waved him over from where he was overseeing the plates as they washed themselves.

"I am very proud of you, Neville." She began. Neville looked unsure.

"Thanks Gran."

"No, really." She insisted, patting the lounge next to her, Neville sat down, noticing she smelled very strongly of cherry. "For so long I thought you would be a disappointment, I could never see either of your parents in you-"

"Stop, Gran." Neville said, angrily. "You've been drinking."

"No! You'll listen to me!" Augusta yelled. "I knew I'd never do a good job of this! Never, when I lost them!" She said, motioning to him, raising him, she meant, "Despite me, you're brave and strong. I'm proud of you!" She insisted fiercely.

"Gran-"

"NO! Don't try to make me feel better, I was so desperate to raise you like I raised Frank, he was always popular and clever and I was worried I'd screwed you up so much-"

"Enough, Gran," Neville said strongly. "Today was hard for all of us, but I learned a lot more about my parents from their friends and well… I know my dad was everything I wasn't, but my mum… everyone said she was clumsy and silly and well… like I was when I was younger. It was hard, knowing you always expected me to be like dad… to make them proud, but I know my mum was always kind… and I always tried to be kind, no matter how popular or smart I was. You did your best Gran, you shouldn't have had to raise me like you did, and I wish I could change what happened to them but I still love you, it is how it is and you're still my Gran."

Augusta had gone very quiet during his speech.

"I might have always been nervous that I wasn't what you wanted, but I could've just been an awkward kid too."

Augusta was crying, silently, her unfinished cherry clutched in her hand. "Come on Gran, we should get you to bed." With an absent wave of his wand a glass from the kitchen filled itself with water and followed them down the hall.

"I am proud of you, Neville, so proud of you," Augusta was saying. "You were the reason I visited them, I didn't want to see them like that, but they needed us!" He ignored her as he walked her to her room and placed the water on her bedside, then went to bed himself.