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There were times when the old man looked at his home and frankly didn't recognize it.

Of course that was silly on many levels. First and foremost because he'd been there for every change that had come about. It wasn't as if he had left it behind in his youth and only now returned to find some new owner had changed it. He had been there. Hell, he was the one who had decided on half the changes and the other half had been his wife's decisions. Converting to carbon-free power. Expanding downward rather than upward to increase the size of the manor without hurting the land around it or casting longer shadows across the lawn. New greenhouses that could replicate any light and environment so that the grass type Pokemon that dwelled on his grounds could have a taste of their nature environment. Full VR tech… the 'holodeck' as his wife had called it when they'd first installed it. The gym to help him stay fit when he'd realized that he was beginning to develop a pot belly and she was still as beautiful as ever (he patted his stomach to remind himself of the benefits of that; he was looking good for a man his age!). The grandkids loved the swimming pool… and the great grand kids. And the great great grandkids.

That was the other thing that was silly: he wasn't an old man. He was an ancient man. By Arceus' sake he was 166 years old… older than Dumbledore! Of course people in Avalon tended to live a long time but usually it was only to their 120s. His grandmother had made it to 135. 166 years old… when he'd been a teenager that had seemed like an eternity. And now that he'd reached it… it still felt like an eternity.

So much had… happened. So very very much.

"Still," he muttered to himself, easing himself from his chair and making his way towards the car that had come to a gentle stop at the end of the drive, "at least I can still move about!" The gym had done him good and even though his hair was white and he had far too many wrinkles he was still active. No cane. No walker. No need even for the biomechanical limb replacements that were all the rage. He'd had to get his knees replaced and he kept plenty of Skele-Gro on hand in case he took a bad slip but otherwise he still was able to move about his manor with little trouble.

"Dad, we can handle it!" his eldest son said, hurrying down the stairs. Franklin was a good lad, even though he was nearing his 140th birthday and thus far too old to be a 'lad'. His genes were even better than his old man's… a gift from his mother and her Veela blood. "Dad, I mean it. We have a whole house full of kids that can unload the rail car."

"Yes, they can!" the old man said with a chuckle. "You think I'm going to be hauling bags in? No no… I'll watch all the rest of you do it. But I want to greet Shia and his kids… been far too long since I've seen them."

"Dad…"

"Don't even try and argue with me," the old man said, smirking. "You know it won't work."

"I know, I know." With that Franklin just turned and whistled, signaling for multiple generations of their family to come streaming out of the house and greet the family. Most of their kin had stayed in the area or had moved back recently. There was plenty of space and it seemed like no matter how far the wind blew the seeds they always returned back to the garden. Still, a few managed to strike it out on their own, like Shia. He'd been nervous when he'd first brought Moana to the manor, afraid that the head of the family would look down on her for her dark skin. The old man had merely smiled and told her she looked lovely while his wife had excitedly asked if she had saved the Heart of Te Feti yet.

'Like I'd have complained just because she's Alolan,' he thought to himself. 'He loves her which is the most important thing. And besides…' he thought, 'its good to get some new blood in the family.'

It sounded rather offensive, which is why he never said it aloud, but he was glad his family had sought out spouses that weren't from Avalon. There was far too much inbreeding even in these days for his liking. Oh, it wasn't like it had been when he'd been a boy, with families having their Stud Books ('Genealogy Records' his gran had repeatedly called them whenever he teased her about them) to check on how well bred a family was, how 'pure' the bloodline was, any famous names or grand deeds. That was long done with. But still there was a tendency to marry within Avalon. His family, just like the families of his friends, had encouraged their descendants to spread their wings and explore the world and if they brought back some guy or girl from Kalos or Unova or Kanto that was perfectly fine. Avalon could do with shaking up every once and a while.

Younger bodies swept past him, calling out apologizes as they moved to help Shia and his family unload the rail car and thus the old man, deciding he wasn't in the mood to deal with a crush of people, stood back and looked over the lands and his family that lived upon them.

'Neville,' he thought to himself, 'you've had a wonderful life.'

Longbottom Manor was flourishing even now. While in his youth it had been a quiet place with just his gran and him to fill the great estate now one couldn't find a moment's quiet… and Neville wouldn't have it any other way! Children… and grand children… and great grandchildren… and younger ones with more greats tacked onto their names… they kept the soul young. Luna had always loved having such a big and busy house, thriving in the chaos of it, allowing the chaos to swirl around her and warm her heart. Never had he seen her so utterly calm than in a maelstrom caused by their family.

'Luna,' he thought, his smile turning bittersweet. 'Arceus I miss you.'

It had been 8 months since she'd left. She'd not told him she was leaving, knowing that he would have gone with her. She'd left him a note saying that he still had a bit more to do but they'd see each other again. And then she'd left in the middle of the night and he'd known that he would never look upon her with his tired old eyes ever again. When next they were together they'd be young and eternal and they'd have so much fun… but waiting for that time to come, when the call to go off came to him, hurt him so.

'The greatest power of Death is it makes those that remain want to stop living,' he thought to himself. 'And at this point Death is a very old friend.'

Neville stopped beside Flora, patting his starter on the leg. Venasaurs were naturally long living but his dear Flora had managed to push past the barrier all had thought existed when it came to how long Venasaurs could live by a good 30 years. She looked at him and let out a tired yawn before shutting her eyes again; nowadays she preferred to merely lay in the sun and sleep. After he'd left Hogwarts he'd fulfilled his promise to her and locked her Pokeball away, allowing her to freely roam as she once had as an energetic little Bulbasaur, and now she spent all her days out in front of Longbottom Manor, soaking in the heat of the Avalon sun or resting in one of the many greenhouses. Not that Flora wasn't active… woe to any of her kin who thought they could be little shits within earshot of her. More than one naughty Ivysaur had tried to disobey Neville's orders only to find themselves smacked on the bottom by one of Flora's veins or sent toppling to the ground when the old girl unleashed an Earthquake.

He smiled as two young Bulbasaurs raced past him to go help the Longbottoms unload the car, shaking his head at the sight of them. If only his gran could see what counted as 'Bulbasaurs' now… she would have fainted from the shock.

When he'd hit his fifties Neville had decided to try his hand as selective breeding. Working with Pokemon Breeders he'd carefully begun to delve into crossbreeds and hybrids and the results were utterly astounding. Where Avalon did have its regional variants like the white Hoothoot (and he pushed down the small twinge of sadness as he remembered one particular snowy white Noctowl in particular) or the ice-variant Houndours that had been discovered 60 years previously, it was the only place in the world where there were scores of regional variants for a single breed of Pokemon. All thanks to him.

There were the Grass/Steel types that had been bred with Ferrothorns, creating a Bulbasaur with a metallic bulb that blossomed to resemble an electrical tower and allowed it to shock opponents. Tropius and Appletun had been used to create, after several generations, a winged dragon-like Venasaur that would give vistors a fright when it soared overhead. Roselia (carefully bred using pollination rather than normal breeding methods) made the award winning Rose Venasaurs that were the darlings of the Contest Circuit. The most difficult had been the breeding of Gourgeists with Treverants to produce a Treverant that bore gourd-like fruit, then breeding them with Venasuars… but as he looked at the Patch Back Vensaurs with their jack-o-lantern-like bulbs he couldn't help but be proud of what he had brought into the world.

"You okay, grandpa?" Shia asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You seemed in a daze."

"Just thinking," he assured his great-great grandson. Though only the girls in the family were born Veelas (as there was no halves about it when it came to the Art… even a drop of Veela blood would result in a newborn girl possessing the gifts of the tribe Luna had once been the mistress of) the boy was a very handsome lad, much like all of Neville's kids and grandkids. It was as if the universe didn't want to saddle the boys with having stunning sisters while they were homely like Neville (and he swore he could feel Luna kicking him even though she wasn't there, scolding him for thinking he was anything but beautiful). His hair was cut very short, as was the current style, but Neville knew if Shia grew it out it would look like spun silver. He was a large, strapping lad; the dress shirt he was wearing couldn't hide his muscular arms and broad chest. Neville's grandson, Shia's grandfather, had married one of the Weasley girls (that family seemed to only produce girls nowadays, all leggy and fiery and utter asskickers) and those genetics along with Neville's own stronger build meant that Shia could easily have become a pro weight lifter rather than an accountant. Seeing the man in a suit was like seeing an action star trying to disguise himself as a nobody runt and utterly failing.

"About what?"

"Many things," Neville said with a smile. "When you get to be my age you discover that you've collected more than anything memories and it's a wise idea to check on them and make sure they are all in place."

"I can't even imagine being your age," Shia admitted. "Of course 20 years ago I couldn't imagine being a father. I was all obsessed with going to New Hogwarts and having adventures-"

"And then you woke up one morning shocked to discover you'd gotten old?"

"More that I asked myself "What is that beautiful house?" And I asked myself, "Where does that highway go to?" And I asked myself, "Am I right, am I wrong?" And I said to myself, "My God, what have I done!"."

Neville shut his eyes and bowed his head.

"Grandpa?" Shia asked, the smile leaving his lips. "Are you-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Neville assured him. Now it was his turn to smile. "Luna would have loved hearing you make that reference."

"I'm sorry," Shia said. "I didn't mean to remind you-"

"No," Neville said firmly. "Don't you dare apologize for reminding me of her." He opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. "I love her, Shia. And yes, it hurts to wake up every morning and not have her next to me. Just like it hurts that I can't see everyone else. But I would never want to forget them. It hurts… because there was so much love. And when you push past that you find that love again." He reached out and patted the hand that was on his arm. "Never apologize for being like her. Never."

"Okay, grandpa," Shia said. He began to lead Neville back to the house. "Any idea what Grandma Renee is cooking up for lunch?"

"She's a Fortescue so you know that it doesn't matter because there will be ice cream afterwards so good you'll forget all about it." Neville's grandson Owen had married Claire Fortescue and gone into business with her brother to make Forescue's Ice Cream a global sensation. It had been a good match… other than Luna getting upset they didn't name their daughter 'Blue' for some reason… but now Claire was retired and merely spent her days cooking for the entire extended Longbottom family.

"And its Grandma Renee, so you know it is the private recipe," Shia said with a smirk.

"Hopefully she'll have left some counter space for me to make some malasadas," Moana said, joining the two.

"Hello Moana," Neville said, giving the traditional two handed greeting of Alola.

"Hello Neville," the dark skinned woman said, returning the greeting before giving the old man a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for having us."

"More than welcome," he said. "And if Renee gives any fuss about sharing space you tell her to talk to me. I'll remind her that it is still my house." The threesome began to walk back towards the manor. "Handling the Avalon weather well enough?" While he was dressed in a thin button-up shirt and slacks Moana looked like she was ready to brave a blizzard, having donned a thick wool sweater and stuck her hands in her pockets.

"I always think I remember how cold it is here but then we arrive and I am still shocked!" the woman said with a good-natured laugh. "I even tried hiking in the mountains two weeks back to test everything out and still I stepped out of the plane and felt like I'd been hit in the face with a frozen Magikarp."

"Well I've been smacked by a living one so I can agree it isn't a pleasant feeling," Neville said, nodding to his butler Cosgrove before entering Longbottom Manor. The place was alive with activity as all manner of kids (and to Neville even the ones over 100 years old were 'kids') were moving about. There were the ones that lived there, keeping him company and assisting with the family gym and the raising of the Venasaurs. But they also had currently many of the Longbottoms (in both name and blood) who'd gone out into the world getting settled in.

It was Luna's birthday and even though Neville hadn't said a word he knew that the entire family had decided to return home to make sure he got through the day without too many problems.

'Well, not just me. Them too.' He watched as his daughter, Lyla Devereaux, moved about the house directing traffic, calling out where people were to go and what needed to be done to settle Shia and his family in.

"How is she doing?" Shia asked quietly, nodding toward Lyla.

"Cooping. Luna was the longest living Mistress of the Veela by a wide margin. Lyla always knew she'd take over but it is still hard to step into her mother's shoes."

"They… aren't still trying to deify her, are they?" Moana whispered.

Neville scoffed. "Yes, even after I presented them with Luna's will that stated clearly to not even try." It had been a video will that had seen Luna tell them she wasn't interested in being declared a deity. Of course that had led her to sing some song called, "It's Tough To Be A God", which led to a discussion about how if she were a lesbian she'd totally bang Chell, Neville had drifted off at that point, and by the time he snapped out of it half the kids were trying not to throw up and the other half were singing along with the video will as Luna belted out 'Godzilla' by Blue Oyster Cult. "Lyla is fighting it though. She knows what her mother wanted."

"I remember Grandma Luna telling us about the fights concerning other people trying to deify…" he paused, suddenly looking bashful.

"You can say his name, I don't mind," Neville said with a smile. "Harry was my friend. Will always be. I miss his very much, nearly as much as I miss Luna, but like with her I'm not going to forget about him just because it hurts."

"I'm glad," Moana said softly. "Because…"

"Because… Neville said, rolling his hand about to urge her on to continue.

"Alana wanted to talk to you about…" Moana blushed. "I'm sorry, it's just silly because I know it's your life but to her it's ancient history."

"So no more. Let her know to come see me after dinner and she can ask me whatever she wants."

~MC~MC~MC~

He had decided to meet with Alana in one of the greenhouses.

Neville had considered his study but quickly decided against it, knowing how intimidating the room could be. Even though he'd done all he could to not be like his gran and be utterly open and welcoming to all his family they'd still viewed his study as some sacred place. For his kids it was almost a place of worship or a sacred spot where one spoke softly and kept their head bowed. For the grand kids and all the greats that would follow it was a room they didn't even dare step into; he'd asked Ben once and the then 12 year old had whispered that it was 'his room' and no one should disturb him. That actually had miffed Neville slightly as the study could get rather lonely and he'd have loved the company but no matter what he did no one wanted to join him. He'd have completely redid the entire thing but he loved the way it looked, for he'd modeled it after the Gyrffindor common room, and couldn't stand tearing a single piece of it down.

The only people that felt comfortable in his study were those that had gone to Hogwarts either with him or before him. To them it was a piece of home recovered, thought lost but resorted.

So instead he'd gone to one of the greenhouses, Number 2. It was connected to the house and was 3 stories tall and housed nocturnal plants that thrived under starlight. Normally that meant turning on the artificial sky but tonight it was cloudless and the entire galaxy was giving them a show so he was able to just have the glass be glass and let nature, true nature, do its thing.

He'd left dinner at a reasonable time but still was one of the first to get up, having only a small bowl of Renee's raspberry sauce ice cream and two of Moana's malasadas. The rest of the family was gorging themselves and he made a mental note to wake them all up bright and early for a Longbottom Family hike to work off all that rich food; he was an old man and was allowed to be cruel like that and hell he would be right there with them every step of the way to burn off the fat!

"Grandpa Neville?" Alana said, knocking on the door and peaking her head inside.

"Come in, come in. Don't worry, this isn't one of the dangerous greenhouses." Even those members of his family that rarely visited knew that there were some greenhouses you didn't enter without a master gardener with you. Pollen that could cause shortness of breath and hives if you hadn't built up a tolerance, creeper vines that actually did creep… and squeeze, piranha plants that were so vicious Luna used to joke he should hire some Hoenn plumber named Mario to deal with them. "Just me and the Oddish."

Alana stepped forward only to let out a yelp when two little Oddishes lowered themselves down from the ceiling on vines, grinning happily before dropping to the ground and hurrying off to see to the non-Pokemon plants that were being raised in the greenhouse.

Alana's Veela blood combined with her mother's Alolan heritage had created a young woman that truly was stunning. Sixteen years old she had been a late bloomer but now everyone couldn't help but comment on her beauty. Not that she was merely a pretty face! The Alolan people were strong and Alana was no different; Neville had seen videos of her karate tournaments and cheered as she took out her competitors. Not other girls… no, Alana was such a force she took on the guys and usually ended up cleaning their clocks. Muscular yet also stunning… Neville already knew that before her family left he'd be receiving proposals for Marriage Contracts for her from all the great families of Avalon.

Neville motioned for Alana to come closer only to chuckle when he saw a few more heads poking out from the doorway. "You have some shadows," he said.

Alana let out a huff as her cousins Derek, Monty, and Harmony quickly hurried inside, realizing that their cover was blown and they might as well skip the games and just reveal themselves. They were all younger than Alana, the oldest no older than 8, and filled with the youthful energy that made him shake his head and wonder if he'd ever been that full of pep. Derek Lovegood was from Neville's second son's line and he was going to take over the Lovegood gym, if he wished. Monty's family lived near Godric's Hollow (the town having decided to go with that 10 years ago but there was talk they were going to change it back to Griflet's Hollow… yet again) and took after his mother who was one of the Bones triples. As for Harmony she lived at the Manor but tended to avoid the greenhouse; her father had admitted she wanted to be a Water Type Expert (hoping to apprentice in Kanto) and grass types gave her the willies. For her to willingly come to the greenhouse meant something was up.

"So, what can I do for you?" Neville asked, bending over to inspect some of the orange roses he'd been cultivating. They were a new variety (well, in terms of their creation as in fact he'd presented them to the world 60 years ago) and he'd named them after Ginny as a birthday gift. Not just because of the orange petals but if one actually ground them up to make a perfume it gave off a spicy scent rather than something sweet.

"It's stupid," Alana said, shifting about. "I told mom and dad not to ask you-"

"And they did anyway because he must not think its stupid at all," Neville stated. "Now do you think it is stupid or are you afraid I'll think YOU are stupid for asking?"

"Yes? No? Both?" She let out an annoyed grunt of frustration.

"Come on, just ask him!" Monty complained.

Harmony nodded. "We want to hear all about it!"

"Hear about what?" Neville asked.

Alana tried to distract herself by looking at the garden beds, running her fingers along the green dew-covered leaves and delicate petals. Neville didn't say a word, merely letting her take all the time she needed to work up the courage to speak. The girl was strong and sure of herself in so many things in her life… to be nervous to ask him something meant that whatever the issue was it was a biggie for her.

"Promise you won't be mad if I bring it up?" she asked.

Derek quickly spoke before Neville could. "Because we are all interested, Grandpa! So you can blame all of us!"

"Uh huh!" Harmony said, bobbing her head up and down.

"We know you don't like to talk about it…" Monty said and Neville instantly knew what they wanted to discuss.

"The War," he said softly. He turned away and shook his head. "Damn it Harry."

"Grandpa said a bad word!" Harmony gasped.

Neville smirked at that. "Yes, but that is because I'm as old as the dirt in here so I'm allowed to say bad words. You can't until you are as old as me!" He let out a sigh, his good humor failing. "I suppose I should blame Harry for all of this. He made it clear to everyone that we were sick and tired of talking about the War and answering questions of about it. He just wanted to be able to go out without people constantly bugging him about it and when they finally got the hint they began going after all the rest of us instead. So he finally had a big public blow up and put the fear of Arceus in everyone and that got everyone to shut up… except he went too far and now NO ONE wants to talk about the War. Which isn't right." He gripped onto the wooden edge of one of the tables. "People should talk about it. Remember it. Because it was important. To honor those who fought… and remember those who died." He looked back to his great great grandkids and smiled. "What do you want to know?"

Alana took a deep breath. "We were assigned in class to do a report on someone from our family. Everyone was looking for someone important to do it on but I… well I kind of-"

"Have too many people like that?" Neville asked.

"Yeah. Mr. Ross, my teacher, he suggested I do it about Queen Talia but-"

"It's hard when the Queen is your aunt?" Neville asked.

"Yeah. Hard to really respect the crown when you remember the wearer playing hide and seek with you."

"Believe me, I get it!" Neville said with a chuckle. "So?"

"I decided to do it about you, grandpa," Alana said. "Because our family can trace it all back to you!"

"And you want to know what the War was like from my point of view, huh?" Neville asked.

"Kinda?" Alana said. "Not really." Neville blinked at that. "I mean… I did a ton of research about the War. All the books and that movie-"

"Ugh, don't remind me of those," Neville said with a groan. Everyone had cringed at how those movies had taken 7 years of their lives and boiled them down into 8 movies (their final year getting split into two for some reason Neville never understood).

"Better than the play!" Derek said, crinkling his nose. "We had to go see that last year."

"Ah yes, the one that made Harry out to be a horrible father and renamed JR because he wouldn't sign off on the likeness rights." None of them had been surprised to find out eventually that their old pal Rita had been the one hired to ghost-write that horrid play. It stank of her bias and bigotry. He'd been utterly thrilled when she'd went off on her little rant and utterly destroyed her career. "At least the movies had decent casting!" Neville had been rather pleased with Matthew Lewis… at least once he'd grown out of being chubby and bucktoothed; Neville had never been that pudgy, his gran would have tanned his hide! The rest were okay, Rupert was too short for Ron and he'd argued that Evanna Lynch wasn't nearly pretty enough to be Luna. Harry had gotten the best casting with Daniel Radcliffe though Matt Ryan's portrayal of Jack- "Sorry, I'm guessing that not what you want to talk about."

"Actually it is," Alana admitted. "Like I said I decided to write about you and the War. But… everything I look into just seems so utterly farfetched!"

"What do you mean?"

"…all that magic and mystical powers and stuff!" she finally exclaimed.

Neville gave her a dry look. "You do remember you're a Veela that can manipulate emotions, right?"

"Yes!" Alana said tersely.

He glared at her and unleashed a Speaker's Pulse, making her back away and the other kids to cower a touch. While he had been trained he'd never become a Master of Speaking… he was happy to let Luna be the powerful one in their relationship… but sometimes it did help to have the Pulse to fall back on.

"Respect your elders," he said firmly.

"Sorry grandpa," Alana said, properly cowed.

He sighed, waving her off. "It's fine. Now," Neville motioned for her to step closer, her cousins moving just behind. Neville turned and looked out the greenhouse walls towards the low lying land that stretched out before him. "So you don't believe what they say about the War?"

"Well…" Alana said, shifting from foot to foot. "I mean… I know it happened, of course. But a lot of it… it's just tall tales, right? People taking stories and embellishing them to make things seem bigger. Voldemort was a terrorist but he wasn't really some immortal spirit. Harry Potter wasn't leading armies when he was 17. There wasn't really a Little Surrey or a Mirror that showed the future. They're just stories-

Neville turned to face her.

Alana stopped.

Her cousins let out little gasps.

Neville reached up and brushed a tear from his cheek.

"It's true," he got out. "All of it." He took a breath, shuddery and shallow. "I think… I understand what your grandma meant. What I had left to do. I had to make sure someone understood." He swallowed, his eyes burning. "Nocturne. The Sons." Now he truly couldn't stop the tears from falling as he saw the faces flash in front of him. Of all those he hadn't seen in so very long. The last of his Pride. "Ginny. Ron. Hermione. Jasmine. L-Luna. Harry." He swallowed. "It happened. All of it."

"Grandpa," Alana began. "You don't-"

"I do," Neville said firmly. He would tell them everything. Of Harry's first year. Of finding Zygarde. His death in the false timeline. The Tournament. The Order.

…and the agony that was their 6th year.