AN - I made up my own class schedule, this isn't too unusual from my perusing of the site. The Dursley segment is concluded. As always I thank DrStranger, excellent grammar. I hope you enjoy!

Vernon Dursley stood panting over his son. Dudley, once a pampered snot, lay curled as much as his obese body could. It had only taken three strikes of the belt to make him roll up like he'd seen his cousin do. The remaining seven had merely been emphasis. Dudley needed to learn the consequences of his actions. Every strike was preceded by Vernon shouting at Dudley it was for one of his faults.

"This is for bullying other children!"

Smack!

"This is for being greedy!"

Smack!

"This is for all the selfishness we've had to put up with!"

Smack!

Snape stood finishing the fastening of a noose around Petunia's neck. He paused, his dark eyes cold, calculating. He gave a nonverbal command through his curse and Vernon spat on his son before stalking off to stand by his wife.

Petunia, bound wrist and ankle as well as at the throat, cried piteously. Snape called sharply, "Boy! Is this you first beating?"

A raspy, "Yes."

Snape glared at Petunia. His vengeance was not yet done. No, he was nowhere near done. He withdrew a bottle of brilliant blue liquid out of his pocket and sneered at her, "This is a very rare poison, not found naturally in this region. This poison will melt flesh, but at a verifiably agonizing rate. If applied externally. If ingested it corrodes the organs and muscles, eventually releasing the acid of the stomach into the body. This will cause an immensely painful demise that will take up to half an hour." He whispered in her ear as he caressed a cheek.

"Fitting for your rotten husband."

Forced against her will by the Veritaserum she spoke the truth,

"Yes."

The vial actually contained a potion used primarily in Saint Mungo's on patients who wanted to break bad habits. During the brewing he had added ingredients designed to force the Dursley's to change from bigots who obsessed with themselves into something more like a blank slate. Used in conjunction with Legilimency and Confundus Charms he'd be able to remake the Dursley's into anyone he wanted.

All in good time. He hadn't finished playing yet.

He still held the 'poison' in his left hand. He tapped the noose around Petunia's neck with the wand in his right hand and it immediately became taut.

"Now we play a little game." Snape gestured curtly at the cursed Vernon, "He will ask a question. If I dislike your reply I will tap the rope and it will tighten. You'll need to stand on the stool, facing the boy." He didn't dignify Dudley with his name.

Petunia was levitated onto the cushioned step stool, facing Dudley and Vernon. The insanity of the situation and watching her husband hitting their son had tears streaking down her face. Vernon snapped at her, making her flinch, "Why did you abuse our nephew?"

"He deserved it. He was not normal. He should've stayed in his world."

The noose tightened and she found herself standing straighter.

"Do you hate him because of who he is, what he represents, or what he is?" An edge crept into Vernon's voice.

"All of those. He is my sister's son, a reminder of what I couldn't ever be. A look in his eyes made me want to gouge them out." Pause for breath. "He represented that world, and he mocked me. He is an abomination."

She was forced to balance on the balls of her feet. Dudley looked up from his whimpering, shocked at these revelations that his mother was jealous of the freak. He was confused and didn't know what to make of it, but kept quiet.

Vernon's beet red face hissed out the next question:

"Are you sorry?"

"Yes."

A silence followed. It stretched a few seconds before his sharp eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

"Because it cost me my family. Because it didn't change anything. I still loved my sister, and could've done better for her. Because I am about to die knowing I deserve it." Her voice was strained. The rope was leaving bright red marks on her neck. Her face was stained with a mixture of tears and discoloration from lack of oxygen. Her eyes were popping, bulging in her face. They showed remorse and suffering.

Mercy, thine is a fickle hand.

He handed Vernon the vial. He turned to Dudley and pointed his wand at him, a simple Stunning Spell knocking him out. He turned to Petunia and he had a question of his own. He asked in a smooth, silky voice that was more terrifying than Vernon's overt hostility.

"If I offered you a second chance, would you be willing to do as I say?"

A pause. Brief seconds turned into a very quiet, "Yes."

When Severus Snape Disapparated out of Number Four Privet Drive he left a very different family behind. He had spared Petunia and the child on condition she raise him with a kind but firm hand. Dudley would try harder in school and learn a way to vent his anger properly. They were mostly innocent to be fair.

Vernon Dursley would go to work the next morning, and tragically die after losing control of his vehicle and driving off a bridge. His life insurance would provide his family a way out of the negative backlash. They would live frugally until the boy made something of himself in life, if ever that happened.

None of the three would remember Snape's presence. All signs had faded, any damage repaired.

TMoD

Breakfast in the Great Hall was quite different, even for early risers like Harry and Hermione. The gray morning sky above mimicked by the ceiling gave the impression that they were eating outside. Some teachers had also risen early, including Flitwick and McGonagall. There were few other students of lower years, though it seemed a few older students were prone to waking at dawn.

Harry and Hermione made it to the Gryffindor table in a bit of a huff. Hermione, taking charge type she was, was insisting on bossing Harry around after a while. She had insisted in no uncertain terms that he needed to be more prepared for class.

"After all," she had lectured, "what will the teachers think if you are going to be constantly unprepared Harry?"

It was at this point that Harry decided he would be nice to Hermione, but he wouldn't bother with opening up. He just got his life, he wanted to keep it his own.

So while they portioned eggs, sausages, and toast onto their plates Harry was quiet. Hermione prattled on obliviously, her excitement showing in her chattiness. Sadly she wouldn't notice her friend seemingly ignoring her while focusing on his meal. The hall filled slowly over the next quarter hour, and more of the staff appeared as well. Neville arrived when Harry was getting himself an apple.

"Heya Harry, Hermione." Neville said, plopping down across from them. A couple of "Morning Neville"s later and they were all comfortably sharing breakfast. At least until a rustling, hooting cloud of birds arrived.

"It's how mail is delivered," Neville explained helpfully at the bewilderment of the two muggle raised. "Owl post is the most common form of communication at Hogwarts. In fact," he added, "most ministry notices and personal letters are delivered this way."

"You sure know a lot Neville," Harry said in awe of the cloud of swooping and hooting owls. Hermione was about to launch into what could have been an interrogation for more information when McGonagall appeared with their schedules.

"Today we have double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, then lunch, and Tranfiguration!" Hermione practically radiated enthusiasm. Harry perked up a bit as well, he was quite fascinated with Transfiguration as well.

Since Neville had left his bag back in the dormitory as well Harry decided to wait for him before walking back. Ron also joined them, saying he needed to get his books too. He seemed eager to start making up for his rough start. Harry shrugged, and the three boys made their way off with Hermione's sniff of, "Boys!" trailing them.

"So Harry, do you fly?" Ron asked him conversationally. "There's a flying lesson at some point this term, and I was wondering if you had ever tried it before."

Harry shook his head in the negative. His eyes brightened slightly though, "I actually have been looking forward to trying to fly though. How'd you know about the lesson?"

Ron couldn't help a smile, "My brothers Fred and George told me. You know they're in third year." He grew a little more energetic, "Once in a while we all play quidditch at home."

Harry asked his shy friend, "How about you Neville?"

Neville smiled feebly, "My gran wouldn't let me near a broomstick growing up. I'm a bit-"

Neville cut off with a yelp as he tripped over his own feet and toppled into a suit of armor. Ron and Harry both scrambled to the piled gauntlets, helmet, and greaves and tried to pull him out of the mess. Neville emerged, flaming pink but unharmed. He decided to finish his statement, "-clumsy." His sheepish expression didn't make them laugh, though Harry was a but surprised by Ron. Maybe he could give it a try, but just a try.

TMoD

Herbology, while similar to gardening, was made more interesting by Professor Sprout and her obvious love of her subject. Even though they only be covered basic safety and the course outline for term, Harry and Hermione were both rather surprised by Neville's interest. He seemed to like Professor Sprout and by the end of the lesson was seemingly pretty into giving the Herbology class a place in his favorites. Granted Harry and Hermione had paid attention, Hermione even writing copious notes, but Neville had seemed to enjoy the atmosphere in the greenhouses. So it was a fairly uneventful morning for the Gryffindors, but that would soon change.

After a lunch break, the first years students were seated before their head of house. The first thing she did was give them a strict ultimatum: Mess around in this class and you're out.

"Transfiguration is one of the complex and difficult branches of magic, and if you do not take this course seriously you will not pass." McGonagall had said, her most severe tone impressing upon them her seriousness as they took notes that were quite complicated. After they finished, she handed out matches to each student with the instruction to turn them into needles. It was a difficult task for most of the class, but with ten minutes left in the lesson Hermione managed to complete the task. Harry had watched her try after a frustrating attempt, and saw the exact movement of her wand; heard the enunciation she used. It burned into his perfect memory and even as McGonagall praised Hermione's accomplishment Harry tried the spell again, pouring all his focus into it.

Harry saw to his great astonishment that it had worked. He had a perfect sewing needle on his desk. What he didn't realize was that everyone else in the class now did too. There was an outcry of shock and amazement and a couple of triumph, believing the latest attempt had succeeded. Only two people noticed what had happened: Professor McGonagall and Hermione Granger. Both were momentarily stunned. McGonagall recovered first and went over to Harry's place between Hermione and Neville. The class quieted at the sound of her voice.

"Most impressive Mister Potter," she said into the deafening silence. "How did you manage to transfigure all of the matches?" She had, of course, felt his magic build before the spell. It had been incredible, a mounting wave of strong magic. However she needed to see if he had any clue about the raw power he posessed.

Harry frowned at her, confused. "I don't know what you mean Professor. I just transfigured my match."

She saw his honest confusion and said, "Very well, Mister Potter. Could you stay after class?" Harry nodded, still confused. McGonagall turned to Hermione, "Miss Granger, could you try to reverse your spell? The incantation is 'Finite'."

Hermione managed it on the first attempt. McGonagall smiled slightly, she was one to watch certainly. , "Excellent Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor. Can you try the same on Mister Potter's needle?"

She did. Again. And then again. Her frustration was plain to see, and McGonagall stopped her after her fifth attempt, "That's enough Miss Granger, I honestly didn't expect you to. This particular spell is very powerfully cast. Only someone of greater power or immense skill could remove the spell from these match sticks. I believe Mister Potter simply tried too hard and overexerted on execution. Still, five points for completing your task Mister Potter."

The bell rang and everyone left in a whirlwind of whispering and excited chatter. Well everyone except Harry. McGonagall motioned Harry to come up to her desk. "Mister Potter, I think we need to discuss what happened here." At Harry's look of apprehension she softened slightly, "You don't need to look so worried, I'm trying to help you." She cleared her throat and launched into an explanation.

"You see, every so often there is a witch or wizard born with extraordinary magical powers. These people often become either famous or notorious. Headmaster Dumbledore is considered the most powerful wizard of his generation. Gellert Grindlewald is the counter to that. He was immensely powerful, and used his powers for terrible things. He took over most of Europe before the Headmaster dueled him and defeated him, ending his reign of evil. They were two such wizards.

I am beginning to believe that you also are one of these individuals Mister Potter." Actually, I know it. "It would explain how you managed to perform the spell almost irreversibly. We teachers can help you with controlling this power, but I will not lie to you: it will require some additional study to uh, tone down your spells." She gave him stern look when he seemed ready to protest. "I'm guessing that you were concentrating hard on your task, and that you wanted the match stick to become a needle. But instead of focusing solely on your own match stick the spell was powerful enough to affect any not already transfigured. That is why Miss Granger was able to revert her needle but not yours."

Harry sat, stunned. His magic was so strong he'd need extra lessons just to perform spells properly? McGonagall must have sensed his mood, for she stood up and told him in a much kinder voice, "Mister Potter, the power you possess is a gift. Once you can master it, and I personally will be helping whenever I am able, you will be quite amazed at what you can do. It is better we get you started on control sooner rather than later. It may not seem fair, but you did correctly cast your spell. Just try to relax a little next time. My door is always open if you need to see or talk to me." Harry took this to mean his meeting was over and let himself out.

"How did you do that Harry?" Hermione was waiting outside the classroom and she looked intrigued.

Harry frowned at her, "Do what?"

"You know what Harry," Hermione said in an overly patient tone, "I couldn't remove the spell you cast."

Harry could almost see her increasing curiosity. He gave her an exasperated look, "Why does it matter? I'm not even sure what happened myself."

Hermione seemed slightly surprised by this. "But Harry, remember Malfoy and the train? You obviously used magic then and didn't even have your wand out."

Harry was a bit overwhelmed. This was too much for him, first Dumbledore and Hagrid, now McGonagall and Hermione? He felt expectations piling up around him. Instead of walking with Hermione to the great hall he told her he wanted to drop off his bag first and parted ways at the marble staircase.

He used the break from everyone to try and come to grips with his apparently difficult magic. Why, if he was so amazingly magical, had he never been looked in on by wizards? Why had Professor Dumbledore or the Ministry never come to call? Dozens of questions chased themselves through his head. Questions he had no answers to.

Halfway up the second flight of stairs a combination of his mental exhaustion and the increasingly familiar soothing sensation deep in the back of his mind helped him calm down. By the time he had dumped off his bag he was feeling a bit better. Harry wondered if his classmates were going to question him or just let him to his dinner.

When Harry entered the great hall a few minutes later he saw an open seat by Neville, who was sitting across from Hermione. Lavender Brown sat to her left, and Seamus Finnegan on her right. Ron was on Neville's other side, talking to Dean Thomas. They quieted when Harry sat down. Hermione was still giving him an odd look, as though he were a difficult math problem. Seamus broke the ice, "So Harry, how'd you do that in class a bit ago? That was seriously cool."

Neville nodded with a look of awe, "Amazing."

Ron and Dean nodded agreement. Harry looked uncomfortable. "McGonagall reckons I just overdid it a little. That's all."

Ron snorted, "A little? That's like saying Hogwarts is a cottage mate."

Seamus looked a little disappointed, "I had thought maybe you were some kind of super powerful wizard."

Harry shrugged, "It might have even been accidental magic. Still don't have full control over ours yet. Only been a day of lessons." Not strictly true, but a good way to control rumors. He definitely didn't need people thinking he was some reincarnation of Merlin.

"Oh," Hermione said, softly enough that Harry almost missed it, "I hadn't considered that."

Talk turned from Harry's transfiguration mishap after that. After eating Harry went ahead of the others back to the common room. He was stopped by a familiar voice.

"Harry?" It was the Headmaster. Harry turned to him, surprised to run into him in the entrance hall.

"Yes, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled, "I just wanted to let you know that our lesson will take place at nine o'clock tomorrow night. This," he handed a note to Harry, "Is a pass to be out in the corridors. Meet me outside the entrance to my office."

Harry felt relief for the first time that day. Between the odd feelings in the back of his mind and feeling barely in control of his powers throughout the day, this would be a godsend. Especially after McGonagall's lecture about his apparent magical strength. If he could control this sensing magic power, then maybe he could control all of his magic. "I'm looking forward to it sir."

TMoD

Dumbledore left Harry at the marble staircase and turned toward his office. He had a very important and difficult meeting ahead. He would be speaking with Augusta Longbottom. She was quite the pugnacious woman, and she knew that Alice Longbottom was Harry's godmother. He would be hard pressed to deny her right to try and claim guardianship. Her case was as good if not stronger than Amelia's, and she held a place in the Wizengamut. But she was not Alice, and she would doubtless need to prove herself worthy of claiming that particular advantage.

Frank and Alice had become friends with Lily and James in a passing way at Hogwarts, but only after joining The Order of the Phoenix to oppose Voldemort had they bonded at a deeper level. While not on the level of closeness that James had with Lupin, Pettigrew, and Black, the Longbottoms developed a comraderie with the Potters. Both families had near scrapes with Death Eaters and even had escaped Voldemort himself. They shared a lot of things in common with Frank being an Auror, James a Hit Wizard, and both women being pregnant almost simultaneously.

Dumbledore was pulled from his ruminations by the sight of Professor McGonagall waiting for him beside the gargoyle that guarded the stairway leading up to his tower office. He greeted her with a smile and cheery, "Good evening Minerva. Is there some way I can help you this fine evening?"

"Yes, Albus. I would like to discuss something odd that occurred in my class. Might we be able to discuss this upstairs?" She said, and though she used her usual stern voice she seemed excited.

Dumbledore gave the password to the gargoyle and then said merrily, "After you, Professor."

When the pair had settled across from each other at his desk Dumbledore steepled his fingers and stared at McGonagall with vivid interest. "Now Minerva, what is it that has you looking so excited?"

McGonagall gave him a slight smile. "Well Albus, as you know I am versed in Auramancy." Dumbledore noddded. He knew well that she had learned the art of feeling magic, be it from a person or object. She was even partway through learning to see magical auras. Auramancy helped her intruct her students a lot more successfully in her difficult subject. It let her feel the minor problems with the building power and its release, allowing her to make observations and suggest improvements even if she could not directly see the problem. She continued, "In my first year class Miss Granger successfully managed to turn her matchstick into a sewing needle."

Dumbledore smiled, as a first year managing a transfiguration on the first day of lessons was quite the feat. When he prepared to speak, McGonagall continued instead. "After this, Mister Potter performed the same feat. But that's not all he did, Albus." McGonagall was very tense, her eyes bright behind her glasses, "Potter managed to change every stick in the entire class!"

Dumbledore looked momentarily stunned. However even this was not the last revelation. Harry's spell being strong enough to affect all the matches was astounding. "I showed Granger how to perform the 'Finite' spell to test a theory. After she successfully removed her own spell, I asked her to attempt the same to Potter's needle. She was unable! She couldn't revert the needle to a match! After the class I had to do it myself, and I had to reverse the transfiguration spell! The general 'Finite' was unable to remove it when I tried either!" She was clearly amazed and quite worked up.

Dumbledore leaned back and stared intently at his Deputy Headmistress. His passive Legilimency showed that this was true, unembellished, not that he'd doubt her. This was an even bigger shock than Harry's Magic Sensing and his magic intermingling with other magical objects. The type of power Harry was exhibiting was nearly of Morgana's, or even Merlin's level according to records of their youth. Certainly he was on level with Hogwarts' Founders. Even Dubledore, mighty as he was, would be at a loss against an adult Harry Potter if he were properly trained. He needed to take the boy as an Apprentice. He needed to form the Bond with him to teach him all he'll need to show him. Lessons will only cover so much, and there were too many things too important to be missed.

After a full minute of silence in which McGonagall impatiently waited for his reaction, Dumbledore spoke, "Minerva, I will be giving Harry private lessons. I will personally train him to control his magic. I will also be pressing harder at the Ministry to take Harry as my Apprentice. The Bond will be instrumental in helping him."

McGonagall, who was not privy to Dumbledore's intent on that front, was incredulous, "Are you certain Albus? You've never taken an Apprentice and were never interested in the practice before. While yes, it's true that the Bond involved will help you with understanding and training Potter, there is still the strain it will put on you Albus."

Dumbledore merely smiled at her, "I was preparing to leave for an appointment. Madame Longbottom will not be pleased with me if I arrive after my scheduled time."

"Then take care Albus." He didn't miss the many meanings behind that simple phrase.

TMoD

The Longbottoms had no need of massive or grand manor houses, being a relatively small family with only Neville representing the current generation. The previous generation was Frank Longbottom. The problem with Frank was that his body and mind had been shattered by followers of Lord Voldemort. His wife too had been tortured into madness. Alice had married into the Longbottom family, but she had also helped her husband and stood against the Death Eaters. Their incredible love had lasted into the madness. When they were admitted to Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies they had been unmanageable in their condition unless kept together.

This alone made Augusta Longbottom, Frank's mother, ache in that terrible way only a parent could. Alice and Frank had been everything to her. She knew that ache, horrible as it was, had the potential to destroy her. She had a reason to continue, a purpose that staved off her pain. Her grandson Neville had potential he had yet to tap into. She knew it. He was from incredibly gifted parents. But the boy's nerve was not there.

She had tried. Algernon had tried. Her brother had examined Neville once as a small child. Being an Unspeakable had its perks, and Algernon had been able to test Neville for magical potential. Algernon had said Neville could be quite the formidable wizard in time, and that was when it started: the surprise tactics, the scares, they'd even gone so far as to use sweet Enid, Algernon's wife and Augusta's sister-in-law, in the act that finally broke through. In the end only life threatening danger sparked Neville's magic. Exactly as the Unspeakable had expected.

Algernon had explained afterwards that what happened with Neville was a sign of a wizard with fighting prowess. Augusta had known that for years now. Her strictness, her harshness, and her exasperation were all attempts to make Neville develop a backbone. She was hard, but fair. He got treats, rewards for good behavior. And he was never severely punished. He had a respect for rules, but she had made sure that anytime he felt something or someone was more important that he needed to follow what his heart told him. She pushed him hard, trying to guide him down the path Frank took. She wanted to be sure if he had the ability that he be better prepared. If she were truly honest with herself, as she was right now, she'd say that she pushed him so as not to lose the last person she loved dearly.

The reason for her honesty was brushing himself free of ash before stepping from her fireplace with his eyes twinkling like stars. She was being honest because she needed to acknowledge the feelings she had towards the crooked nosed old dung stain before her; she honestly detested Albus Dumbledore. She hated him for his part in her family's destruction. Yet she also knew that while he wasn't worth a thimbleful of pixie piss, he was the better of two evils. He at least acted in times of crisis, unlike the Ministry.

"Headmaster," she greeted him cordially, if slightly stiffly, "please have a seat. Would you care for any refreshments? Tea or biscuits?" She may think him as foul as stinksap, but alas! A guest is still a guest.

"No, no, Madame Longbottom." That serene smile had always irked her. He didn't ever seem wrongfooted. As though he could stand with his underpants on fire and his wand broken in two with that same look on his face, or that thrice damned sparkle in his eyes. "I am quite well. I only have need of your time and conversation. We do have a few things to discuss."

"I'm sure we do. Please sit, then. I feel this may be a rather drawn out affair." Augusta sat and simply stared at the elderly man, waiting for him to start.

Dumbledore sat gracefully, leaning back appreciatively in the armchair. He had a look of curiosity. She supposed it was the air of a scholar. "Madame Longbottom I am here, as I am sure Madame Bones has told you, about Harry Potter."

"Let me stop you there Dumbledore." Augusta cut in sharply, "Amelia told me of your conversation. Apprenticeship at your age is not wise, and adding to that that you seek Guardianship? You are more the fool than I thought." She said it without malice, simply stating her opinion. "The Bonding or strain of it will kill you. You are not invincible, nor are you infallible either." Her subtle inflection on "infallible" caused Dumbledore to raise an eyebrow and his smile to broaden.

"Dear me, you seem quite as informed as I expect Augusta. Very well, let us speak plainly. I wish to know why you plan to make a claim for Harry Potter. You know my reasons. I wish to know yours." He had made himself remarkably clear this time, something Augusta was not familiar with from Dumbledore after seeing his politics and manuevering over the years.

"I suppose you would." She said bluntly, "You want to know why I want to look after Potter? Simple: I see in him a lot of what my Neville is. I know the story. I know what happened to him. Tell me Dumbledore, the similarities between Neville and Harry are plain to you?"

He seemed to consider this, "There are remarkable similarities in their situations Augusta. I can see them as clearly as you do, I'm sure. However I wonder if you can discern the differences between them?" His quiet reply made her glare at him heatedly.

"Do you honestly believe," she said in a voice far icier than her burning stare, "that I am unable to distinguish between the two boys? Of course they're different. Harry is a survivor, from what Amelia has speculated. If I had to wager, I'd say Harry is better off with those people who put him through whatever caused them to be unfit than with you."

First blood.

Albus Dumbledore gave a nod, his expression slightly more melancholy. "I made a terrible error when I sent those people a year old child and never checked on him. I suppose my hand is detectable in his early sufferings. I am seeking to rectify this, first by accepting responsibility for him. Harry needs to be trained to handle himself. I am sure that there are many in the world who seek to have some claim to our young Mister Potter. Many would claim him simply for the prestige."

Augusta acknowledged his point mentally, but couldn't help herself saying, "You have a habit of missing the trees in view of the forest." He seemed confused momentarily by the seemingly random saying, so she elaborated, "You use people Dumbledore, playing chessmaster with whoever the latest dark wizard is."

Dumbledore frowned now. "Augusta, we both know that Grindlewald and Voldemort," Augusta did not flinch, but her eyes brightened, "operated in secrecy. If I was a chessmaster it was because I was forced into playing by their rules. One does not simply walk up to a wizard of their calibre at whim. They were protected, hidden, using spells that prevented detection, made themselves nigh untraceable. I did what I had to to save innocent lives Augusta."

She snorted, "Like yours? How many years when Grindelwald rose to power did you cower in your castle? How many hundreds died while you ignored their pleas for help? You seemed perfectly content to allow innocent lives to be snuffed out then."

A chink the armor of Dumbledore's kindness. She saw the brief tightening around his eyes: Shame. Regret. Perhaps now it was time to press him.

"You would not only be a poor Guardian to the boy - a term meaning 'one who protects, guards, or is entrusted with something' - but you would be an even worse Master for Harry Potter."

A bit of a wanness crept into the smile he gave her, "You are certainly entitled to your opinion. I believe that I am uniquely suited to helping guide him along to unleashing his full potential. I will admit freely that had I acted sooner Grindlewald may have fallen before he tried to overturn the Statute of Secrecy. However I am not alone in blame for this. You are, it seems, determined to make me seem unfit. I stand by the assessment that I am better suited to at least teach Harry than a majority of the applicants aiming to raise Harry. You seem less inclined to discuss your reasons for adoption than your reasons to dislike myself."

Augusta lost her temper at last. She gave him a withering scowl,"If he became another you, became a coward who only used his strength when all his chess pieces were captured or broken, then he would be a disgrace to his parents legacy!" Her old cheeks were splotched with pink in her anger. Her passionate dislike and distrust of Dumbledore fueled her on, "He needs care and compassion! I am hard," she admitted, "but I am also one who understands his pains and sufferings! I am one who can relate to his losses! I am one who knows what it means to have loved ones torn from me by other people's actions!"

Dumbledore was not smiling anymore. He had a very stony expression on his lined face. When she finished her ranting he leaned forward and spoke in a very quiet, very clear voice. "Augusta, I see where you are going with this and where you are coming from." He stressed it delicately. "What happened to your family is a tragedy that gives you the scope and depth to understand Harry, it's true. I will not try to lie about it. However," his eyes flashed and a fiery light replaced the twinkle, "I also know you are not just doing this strictly for Harry's benefit. You distrust me, and I understand you not having a love for me personally after what transpired, and that is your motivation. It is clear to me Augusta that you intend to make certain I am not to have any sway or position in Harry's life except as nothing more than a teacher. Truth be told you'd prefer less." He added dryly at the end.

"I am not doing this to spite you," Augusta spat out the words in her anger. Being around him, being near him, made her blood boil. "I am doing this because Potter needs a family that he can learn from, be part of."

"That," Dumbledore said heavily, "is not the best of reasons Augusta. Amelia is far better suited to be a familial substitute than an embittered old widow whose hatred and grudges cloud her judgment and make her less understanding."

"I believe we're done here, Dumbledore." Augusta gave him a cold look. Her demeanor had gone from angry to dismissive. "I expect I'll see you and Potter at the hearing Saturday. It was arranged so he could attend. The matters of Guardianship and Apprenticeship are on the agenda. Hopefully, we will see a result that ends up in his best interests."

After Dumbledore had vanished in her floo, she crumpled. Bitter? Was she truly bitter about her family after eleven years? Had any good come from it? She thought hard about the past decade. In her mind she saw Neville and herself, spending time together when he was very small. Remembered how for a while she had lost her pain in pursuit of the child's happiness. Then remembered how hard she pushed Neville.

Algernon had advised against it. Had told her it would only make Neville more clumsy, more awkward, and it would make him fear her. She saw now how when he was old enough she had forced his father's wand on Neville, though it yielded poor results. Remembered her disappointment in thinking it meant he hadn't yet fully developed his powers. She knew every wizard was individual and had need of an individual wand. Surely though, if Neville was the son of its owner the wand would work as well for him?

She was starting to doubt. Doubt her treatment of Neville, and her own actions since that time. She was Regent Longbottom of House Longbottom. Head of a pureblood line that extended back generations. She knew, even if she personally disagreed with the practice, that her family had once been considered one of the Ancient and Noble houses. The Potters were rumored to be decendants of another of the Houses: Peverell. Both were incredibly old families, and the Potters had gotten so close to Frank and Alice that the women had named each other Godmother during the War with Voldemort.

Augusta sat bolt upright. She was Alice's mother-in-law. Alice couldn't take on the duty of Godmother. Black was in jail, though she didn't remember the trial. That left her. She was the only person with the link to Harry Potter that might make her his Guardian. But the problem was... She strode to the fireplace, snatching the floo powder from its jar, and threw it into the fire calling out, "The Bone's Yard!" Apparently it had been Amelia's husband's idea, a little joke. Irrelevant now, she needed Amelia.

She came to a stop in Amelia's sitting room hearth. She stepped lightly from it, calling for her friend. When Amelia entered Augusta said simply, "I need your help."

Bewildered, Amelia nevertheless ushered her friend to a seat and asked her as she too sat, "What is it, Augusta? What happened?"

"I think I may have had an epiphany regarding the Potter boy. There's a problem though. That old goat Dumbledore came to see me earlier. I need you to tell me something honestly Amelia Bones. I know I'm a hardliner, I keep my krups in a row. However, I need to know if you think I'm too hard on my grandson."

Amelia frowned, "I don't see that you have been anything but firm with him. He does have respect for you in any case. Why would that matter?"

Augusta's mouth was set in a grim smile, "Alice is Harry's Godmother."

Amelia's eyes widened, her monocle fell out. "But, then that means..."

"I thought that initially too," Augusta said," at first anyway. Then I realized something. If I am too dissimilar from Alice in demeanor," she chuckled as Alice was a lot softer than she was, "then I would be unable to make that claim in support of my case."

Amelia recovered and fixed her eyes on her friend, "That is true," Shock gone, her logical brain began to whirl. If Augusta was proven too far from Alice in demeanor than the claim was moot. Dumbledore was a hero of two wars with dark wizards who seemed unstoppable. He carried much clout in the Wizengamot. They would doubtless have a hard time dissuading Apprenticeship. Honestly Amelia was conflicted about that regardless of Dumbledore.

If they could prove Augusta was nurturing and able to relate to Harry, and if she made known that Alice is Harry's Godmother in the process, that would be a different game of Quidditch! Yes that would definitely bolster her case greatly. Amelia knew she had a fair case as well: her niece was Harry's age, in some of his classes. She was a Ministry employee, a department head. Money would be no problem for either of them, nor would space. Honestly Amelia's parenting skills were likely a little more modern, but it came down to Harry. What was in his best interests?