Chapter Two: Great Uncle Algie

"Of course he's late," Gran muttered when the knock on their door came over half an hour after 6. Dinner had been laid out and ready to eat promptly, and only Gran's adept use of kitchen witchery kept it warm. Neville noticed she had been muttering similar complaints under her breath since 6:01, though he knew better than to say anything himself.

"Well, go answer the door, Neville, don't keep them waiting," Gran said sarcastically as she bustled out of the room. He fought a smile as he walked down the hallway to greet their guests, knowing that Great Uncle Algie would think that Neville was happy to see him.

In truth, Neville's Great Uncle terrified him. Not as badly as Professor Snape used to, but still enough that he did not relish the thought of spending time with his uncle. He had discussed it with Ginny once, and she'd been horrified when she learned some of the things his Great Uncle had done, calling it some form of abuse. Neville had never really thought of it that way before she'd brought it up, but looking back at it now, he had to agree.

As he opened the door, he was greeted by the wide smile and rosy cheeks Great Uncle Algie prided himself on. He was dressed in a pair of dark purple formal robes that were 50 years out of date, his hair actually appeared to have been thoroughly brushed, and even his fingernails shone in the light of the ever burning candles, showing he had gone to the special effort of having his house elf, Mimzee, clean and file them. His long white beard had been trimmed and braided, and a slim golden cord had been woven into the braid. His green eyes appeared to take in everything around him, but if Neville looked into them too long, he was left with the distinct impression that he could see to through them to the back of his Great Uncle's head.

"How's my favorite nephew?" Algie asked, a slight slur in his speech indicating he'd already had a couple of cups of wine.

"He's your only nephew, Algie, but still, he's a keeper," came a voice from behind Algie. As he made his way inside, Great Aunt Eunice walked in with an easy grace by which she always carried herself. She was no less formally dressed in a sparkling silver robe that caught the candlelight, reflecting onto the walls and making interesting shadows dance across them. She was a woman of medium height and build, with long gray hair that tumbled in ripples down her back to her waist. She always preferred to wear her hair loose, though Neville had never thought to ask why. The wrinkles around her blue eyes told of many years of laughing and smiling, despite the mild rigidity she seemed to project. She reminded Neville of his Gran only vaguely, as the two women's temperaments were vastly different.

"Happy Birthday, Neville, it's so good to see you again," she said with a genuine smile, "Did your Gran give you your watch yet?"

"Yes, ma'am," Neville responded politely, as Algie pushed his way past him towards the dining room.

"Come now, my boy, call me Eunice, please. Ma'am makes me feel like an old woman."

Neville couldn't help but smile. He'd always liked his Aunt Eunice, if for no other reason than she tended to keep her husband in check on some of his wilder notions.

"So, tell me," Eunice began, putting her arm around his shoulder as they made their way down the hall after Algie, "Does it feel any different, being a man today?"

"Not really," Neville replied hesitantly, "Should it?"

"It depends entirely on the man, my dear. It not being a big deal for you tells me you're more mature than most boys your age."

By then, the pair of them had made it to the dining room where Algie was just having a seat at the table. The dishes Gran had prepared for Neville's birthday dinner wafted their scents through the dining room, instantly making his mouth water in anticipation, roast pheasant being one of his particular favorite foods. He took a seat on the far side of the table opposite his Great Uncle, while Eunice took her place next to her husband. Gran was already seated at the head of the table dressed in her deep green dress robes, a disapproving look camped on her face as she stared at her brother.

"So kind of you to join us, Algie," Gran said, her voice dripping with sarcastic politeness, "Since it's likely I'll neither accept nor believe your excuse for your lateness, let's skip right to dinner, shall we?

"Sounds like a grand idea, since I'd half ignore your lecture anyway," Algie retorted, picking up his cutlery and getting ready to tuck in.

Anger flashed in Gran's eyes, but before she could unleash on her brother, Eunice placed a warning hand on Algie's arm and responded, "It was my fault, Augusta. It took me so long to get ready, as I simply had to look my best for such a momentous occasion."

"I see," Gran replied, her tone icy and dangerous, her eyes focused on her brother, "well, I would suggest you not make a habit of it, except that it already is."

"Look, Augusta," Algie sighed, only slightly apologetic, "I'm sorry, alright? I just…I lost track of time."

"Well, I suppose forgiveness is the better part of virtue," Gran replied, only slightly mollified, "Just try not to be so rude in the future."

"Yes, ma'am," Algie said, the smile slowly returning to his face.

"And don't give me that smile of yours. Just because I'm letting it slip this once doesn't mean you're completely off the hook."

If anything, Gran's retort only broadened Algie's smile.

Neville had long ago gotten used to staying out of these little battles of will between his Gran and her brother. Algie had practically been raised by Gran, and he still chafed a little under her authority. At times, it seemed to Neville that his Great Uncle had never really grown up from being a teenager, an observation his Gran had made more than once.

The tension at the table dwindled as the conversation turned towards small talk and dinner began in earnest. After Algie's first glass of wine, he started talking about several wizards and witches Neville had never heard of, though both Gran and Eunice knew who these people were. The gossip didn't interest Neville in the slightest, so he instead focused on his meal, taking the time to thoroughly enjoy every bite of his wheat berry salad. He absolutely loved his Gran's cooking, especially when she cooked for special occasions.

Algie had his second glass of wine about half way through his salad, and his speech was far more noticeably slurred as he talked about some of the scandals happening around Diagon Alley. Neville's Great Uncle was far more interested in who had slighted who and which shop keeper was knocking up which other than the fact that You-Know-Who was back and several of those same shop keepers had disappeared or been kidnapped.

Algie complained, "Can't get pomegranate marshmallow fudge ice cream anymore either. Only Fortescue made that, and no one else knows the recipe

"That's the great tragedy of Voldemort's return," Neville interjected quietly "no pomegranate marshmallow fudge ice cream."

"See?" Algie said, "The boy understands! What's the world coming to if you can't get a decent scoop of ice cream anymore?"

Algie continued on with his diatribe on the state of the world, and Eunice simply ignored the rebuke. Gran, on the other hand, looked Neville in the eye, smiled, and gave him a wink.

They finished their salads, and Algie began on his third cup of wine as Gran served the roast pheasant.

"So, birthday boy," Algie began, turning his full attention to Neville, "How're things at Hogwarts? Old Slughorn put you in his Slug Club yet?"

"I don't want to be in the Slug Club. Ginny says it's deadly dull," Neville replied.

"Well why not, boy? He's got all the connections you'd need to get you in as an Auror, despite not having the right NEWTs. You should try harder. It's your last year, after all."

"If Neville doesn't want to be in Horace's silly little gang, he doesn't have to be," Gran interceded, "Besides, I always found that man to be a total bore. All he's interested in is politics. Good riddance, I say."

"How else is the boy supposed to be an Auror, Augusta? You do still want to be an Auror, don't you boy?"

"Yes, I do, but…" Neville tried to respond.

"Well there you are, then. He's got to make the connections now if he wants to get in for law enforcement, and Slughorn's the best way, since McGonnagal wouldn't see reason and let the boy take…"

"Minerva is rather a dear friend of mine, Algie, and I'll thank you not to speak ill of her. Her decision was quite right, Neville simply would not have been able to keep up with advanced Transfiguration. He's doing quite well in Charms and Defense, and outstandingly well in Herbology. He has plenty of career opportunities based on those alone."

"Why on earth did you keep on in Care of Magical Creatures then, boy? Useless subject, dead end, plus it's still being taught by that half-giant fellow. I've heard all about him, and why Albus lets him teach anything is beyond me."

"I like the class, and Hagrid is my friend." Neville said loyally.

"It's not about what you like, boy. Great wizard once said it doesn't matter what you teach a boy, as long as he doesn't like it. Too right, that."

"Enough, Algie. Neville's teachers and I all agree he's doing quite well at Hogwarts. Professor Sprout is particularly proud of his accomplishments."

"But…" Algie tried to continue, but a withering look from Gran cut him off. "Have you at least found a nice girl yet? What about that…that moon girl…what was her name?"

"Luna and I are just friends," Neville replied, not for the first time trying to get this notion out of his Great Uncle's head.

"Luna, that's her name. Romance is built on friendship, boy. Eunice and I were just friends in school, but it grew during our last year. You mark my words, boy, you and this Luna girl will find yourselves alone in the Astronomy tower late at night, you'll see."

Neville stood up, pushing his chair out from under him, his hands balling into fists.

"Luna is not that kind of girl," Neville tried to say in his most dangerous tone.

"See, he's sticking up for her honor, isn't he! That's love, that is," Algie slurred.

"Sit down, Neville," said Gran, her voice cutting the tension in the room like a severing charm, "And Algie, apologize to Neville. You just insulted one of his closest friends."

"Oh…I…right, I'm sorry, boy. I'm a little drunk. Eunice, more wine?"

As Eunice filled Algie's cup for the fourth time, Neville righted his chair and sat back down at the table in a huff. Internally, Neville was kicking himself for letting Algie get to him over Luna. It wasn't the first time he'd asked about some form of romance between them, and it likely wouldn't be the last. Neville attacked his roast pheasant with a vengeance, and finished it in silence as the conversation turned away from him again.

By the time Gran decided to bring in Neville's Birthday cake, Algie had finished his fourth cup and was well into his fifth. His speech was so slurred as to be barely comprehensible, but he still insisted on blathering on about this story or that. Neville knew that paying any attention to his Great Uncle at this point was an effort in futility, so he tried to completely tune him out. He blew out the candles to Gran and Eunice singing him a birthday song, with Algie trying and utterly failing to harmonize.

"Sho, boy," Algie began after the song was over, "What…What….did shoo wish for? I'll bet…I'll bet shoo wished for a kish from that…that moon girl of yoursh."

"No," Neville replied, refusing to let Algie bait him again, "I wished for a quick end to the war."

"Pfffftttt," Algie intoned, waving his hand dismissively, "Grindawald was a war. Thish, thish ish just…just…a phipo…philsho…philoshophical debate. A contesht of ideas, boy. Noshing wrong with a good debate, boy. Itsh…itsh needed sometimes."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Algie, but aren't debates supposed to be civilized affairs, and don't they usually not involve kidnappings and murders?" Gran asked pointedly.

"They're jusht…jusht…committed to their ideash, Augushta! I'm sure…sure everyone will be alright in the end. Beshides, not all of…all of their ideash are bad, right?"

"No. All of their ideas are bad, make no mistake," Augusta said.

"You can't tell me you wouldn't have been dishappointed if…if the boy here had turned out to be a shquib. I shaw…shaw how you shmiled when he bounced through the garden, rather than…than…"

"Rather than dying, you mean?" Gran retorted, a cold and rigid tone to her voice, "Go ahead, tell me again that I was happy only because Neville was a wizard, and not because he survived your stupidity. See what it gets you,"

"Don't get all high and mighty wish me! You…you shaid more than once…more than once how worried shoo were about…about the boy, before I dropped him!"

"No, I was worried how other people would treat him. Too many people think exactly like you, believing the idea that because we have magic, we are somehow better than Muggles. If Voldemort and his followers are what supremacy of magic means, I'll have none of it, thank you very much. I've known too many good Muggles in my time, and too many terrible witches and wizards, to believe that magic gives us any form of moral superiority. The way you reacted to Neville while he seemed to be without the gift is proof enough of that."

It took Algie a few moments of thinking her response through before he replied, "Now shee here, Augushta! I'll not have you…have shoo inshulting me in my own home!"

"We're not in your home, Algie, we're in mine," Gran countered, "And if you find the truth to be an insult, you only have yourself to blame for it."

"Augusta, please," Eunice interjected desperately, "Algie's not himself right now. He's just had a little too much to drink. You know how he can be when he's a little tipsy. Surely you can forgive him for speaking out of turn?"

"NO!" Neville shouted, startling everyone in the room by slamming his fist on the table and rattling the dishes. His outburst was greeted with shocked silence which suddenly Neville was at a loss to fill.

"Neville, go ahead, dear. You have our attention, so now you must speak up," Gran said, her tone eerily neutral.

"I…" Neville began hesitantly, keenly aware of the three sets of eyes that were now locked on him, as well as the bruise that was going to turn his hand black and blue very shortly. He stared grasping for something to say, anything, but he wasn't entirely sure himself why he'd shouted now. "Do you remember Blackpool Pier, Uncle?" Neville blurted out.

"Yesh, but I don't see what…" Algie began.

"Hush, Algie, let Neville speak," Gran said, cutting him off.

"I almost drowned. I remember water filling my chest after I hit the water. I remember how it burned, not being able to breathe. I remember knowing, that I was going to die. You almost killed me, Uncle. I should have died. Do you remember why I didn't?"

"Shomeone…someone swam out and pulled you in…"

"A Muggle, Uncle Algie. She pulled me to shore. I was unconscious, so I don't remember anything. Do you remember what happened?"

"She…she kisshed you…right?"

"Yeah. It's something called CPR. The Muggles know how to get you breathing, how to get your heart working, using just their breath and their hands. They can do that without magic, Uncle. Now, the main thing is, where were you?"

"I…I wash on the pier…"

"Why didn't you save me?"

"I can't…can't shwim…"

"What about magic? You could have used your wand," Neville replied, getting in his rhythm now.

"It'sh against the law, boy, using magic in front of Muggles…"

"So you couldn't save me, but a Muggle could."

"Yesh, I shuppose that's…that's…"

"So why should I forgive you for saying that magic folk are better than Muggles and squibs, when a Muggle saved my life, and you couldn't? I was only drowning in the first place because of you! And then you say that nearly killing me a second time was a GOOD thing? Just because I lived doesn't make up for you DROPPING ME OUT A WINDOW. I COULD HAVE DIED, Uncle, all because YOU didn't want a squib for a nephew! So, no, I'm not going to forgive you for saying what you've always been thinking. Instead, I think I want you to leave. I think I don't want to see you ever again."

"Now hold on a moment, Neville, let's not be so hasty with words and say something we'll regret," Eunice said conciliatorily, "I understand you're upset now, but speaking out of anger is never good for anyone."

"The only thing I regret is not saying something before, Eunice," Neville replied angrily. Turning to face Gran, he said, "May I please be excused?"

"You may, Neville. We'll have a chat about this later," Gran said warningly.

"But…your cake? Don't you want some of your cake?" Eunice pleaded.

"I'm not hungry. Feel free to eat it without me."

With that last retort, Neville fled the dining room, rushing upstairs to his room as fast as he dared, closing the door quietly behind him to shut out his Great Uncle's complaints about what a rude and obnoxious nephew he had.

About an hour later, Neville heard the front door open and close, signaling the departure of his Great Aunt and Great Uncle. He had pulled out his old copy of Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean and curled up on his bed to read, hoping to calm his ragged nerves. He was hardly surprised when the knock came on his door a few moments later, indicating it was time for that "chat" Gran had promised. He considered ignoring it for all of two seconds but came to his senses.

"Come in," he said, very softly.

The door opened softly, and Gran walked in quietly, her face unreadable. Knowing what was coming, Neville couldn't help but cringe. He wasn't exactly afraid of his Gran, so much as terrified of disappointing her.

"I'm so sorry, Gran. I was angry, and I spoke out of turn. It won't ever happen again, I promise. He just made me so angry, thinking like he does when a Muggle saved me. It's just not right the way he's treated me, both Ginny and Luna said so, and he just got to me tonight. However you decide I need to make up for it, I'll…"

Gran held up a hand to silence her grandson. "I want to be very clear with you right now, Neville, so let me speak without interruption."

Neville simply nodded, nearly in tears.

"What you said tonight was pointed, and it was not kind. Your Great Uncle was very hurt by your accusations, make no mistake, and likely will not forgive you for your outburst anytime soon. I think this is all to the good. What your Great Uncle has done to you over the years is unconscionable, and I for one think it's high time you brought him to task for it."

"Wait…so…you're not mad at me?" Neville asked, shocked.

"Quite on the contrary, I couldn't be prouder of you. I just wonder why it took you so long."

"I didn't want to be rude to a guest…"

"Neville, when someone is doing wrong, you do them a disservice by not telling them. This is especially true of your family, since you will have to see them again at some point, and if you don't correct them the behavior will likely continue."

"So, I don't have to see him again, if I don't want to?"

"No, but I think at some point you'll change your mind. No matter what they may do, Neville, family is still family, and in the end, they are all we really have," Gran said with great tenderness and a touch of sadness. "On a brighter note, while Algie may be many things, stingy has never been one of them. I brought you his gift, if you still want it."

"He still left it, even after all that?" Neville asked stunned.

Gran simply smiled. "No matter what, you're still family to him, Neville. In his own way, he does love you, even if he doesn't show it very well."

"What is it?"

"It's wrapped; so I really have no idea. Your Uncle was very careful to tell me that only you must unwrap it," Gran replied.

"Ok…well, I can at least see what it is, I suppose."

Gran handed him the gift without a further word. It was wrapped in simple red and gold paper, Algie's proudest moment was when Neville had been sorted into Gryffindor, and bore a simple card with Neville's name. It was thin and round but had great heft to it as Gran handed it over to him.

He unwrapped it quickly, very curious as to what was inside, only to find nothing more elaborate than a small round mirror with no handle. As soon as he touched it, the glass grew very warm for just an instant, then returned to room temperature. He turned it so the glass faced him, and for a very brief moment, it showed his reflection. With a swirl, his reflection disappeared, to be replaced with vague and indistinct shadows with no discernible features.

"What good is a mirror that doesn't reflect anything?" Neville asked, mostly to himself.

"Likely it's some kind of magic mirror, though your uncle didn't explain. Is there an instruction booklet in with the wrapping?" Gran asked.

"No," he replied, after searching through the paper, "but if it's magical, we can find out how it's enchanted."

Grabbing for his wand on the small nightstand, he tapped it on the mirror twice before saying "Specialis Revelio!" Gran looked confused for a moment as Neville cast the spell but smiled as he explained what he'd learned.

"Cor! Gran, it's a Foe-Mirror! That's why Great Uncle Algie didn't want you to unwrap it! It has flesh memory, so it attunes to the first person who touches it."

"What does it do?" Gran asked, intrigued.

"Well, the shadows are my enemies, right? The closer they get to me, the more distinct they get in the mirror," Neville explained.

"So right now it's telling you all your enemies are far away, right?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"That's not terribly useful then is it? By the time you see them in the mirror, you should be able to see them in person."

"Unless they're sneaking up behind you," Neville pointed out.

"Hmpf…only mostly useless then."

"Well, maybe. Still it's a very tricky bit of magic," he said.

"As long as you like it, Neville, that's what matters," Gran said with a smile.

Neville set the Foe Glass on his nightstand next to his father's watch and his wand, then looked out this window at the light of the sun disappearing behind the hill on the west side of the garden.

"Was he really angry, Gran?" Neville asked softly.

"Oh, yes. He couldn't stop going on about how rude you'd been; both in what you'd said and how you'd acted. I told him that he really had it coming for years, but he wasn't in a mood to listen. I wouldn't worry about him too much, Neville. When he sobers up, he'll realize what an absolute prat he's been to you. I shouldn't be surprised if the next time you talk to him, he's all apologies and sympathy," Gran explained.

"I was serious, Gran. I really don't want to see him again," Neville said stubbornly.

"And until that changes, you don't have to. For now, I think it best we call it a night. We'll need to take the harvest to Diagon Ally tomorrow, and I think it's high time we collected your supplies for the coming school year, don't you?"

"It's coming up rather quickly, isn't it?" Neville said, unable to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice. Gran only smiled at that, turning back towards the bedroom door to leave.

"Good night, Neville, and sweat dreams."