Rated T

(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)

Note: Yes, yes, yes, I'm so sorry for neglecting this story. I just hit writer's block and had no idea where I wanted this to go. Did I want Severus to wake up anytime soon? Did I want the Longbottom Estate visit to be positive or negative? So on and so forth ... I'm so sorry, and with me leaving tomorrow on a flight across the ocean, we may be stuck here for a very long time ...

So to recap: Severus, Sirius, Minerva, and Remus attacked Bumblebee Manor, (Dumbledore's home) to rescue Harry from the kooky old man, and there was a fight. Snape got hit in the face with all of his memories at once and lost consciousness, Harry stayed with him until the bitter end, the manor collapsed on crazy Dumbledore's order, and our heroes barely managed to escape. With Severus still unconscious in the Hogwarts hospital wing about a week later, Minerva is looking for someone to take Harry in while Poppy arranges to transfer Snape to St. Mungo's for some specialist help, since he doesn't show signs of improvement. Minerva and Remus are now taking Harry to visit with Augusta Longbottom and her grandson, in hopes that until Severus wakes up, Harry will have a safe and loving home ...

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Chapter 37: A New Friend

Longbottom Estate was more than Harry had imagined. Well, he wasn't even sure what he had imagined, really. But when the awful squeezing jump was finished and Remus put him down again, Harry found himself looking up and up and up at a beautiful, old-fashioned house at least five stories high, covered in flowering ivy and decorated with balconies and scrolled columns and high gables. They were standing on a flat dirt road in the English countryside somewhere, just outside a fancy wrought-iron fence like the ones he'd seen in old pictures of cemeteries or orphanages in the eighteen-hundreds. The fence surrounded the big house, and inside the fence, he could see rolling green lawns, meticulously trimmed hedges, and tall, graceful trees. They were in the middle of nowhere, really, surrounded by miles and miles of the most beautiful country Harry had ever seen; trees and hills and little streams. It took his breath away, seeing so much green under a cloud-sprinkled sky of jewel-blue.

The gate in the wrought-iron fence stood wide open, and Harry felt equally nervous and excited. A tug in some strange part of his brain wanted to go run through the grass, or roll in it. His nose was full of sharp, fresh smells; growing things of all kinds, rich earth, and the soft, slightly damp breeze. Remus looked down and Harry looked up, and they smiled at each other. Harry saw his strange pull mirrored in the older Werewolf's face. Remus' eyes gleamed with golden streaks, more than before, but he seemed quite calm and happy despite that. Harry felt it too, like a puppy had been trapped under his skin. He wanted to pull away and go running at top speed, throw himself down a little hill, roll in the grass until he was delirious with the smell of it, and he could tell somehow that Remus wouldn't mind doing it either. It was strange and exhilarating, and Harry drew in several breaths. He couldn't get enough of the fresh, green smells here.

"If you two are done sniffing the air?" Professor McGonegall's dry tones interrupted their odd little moment.

"I'd forgotten what a lovely place Longbottom Estate is," Remus commented, looking up at the lady Professor and smiling at her.

"I like it here," Harry said shyly.

"Good," Professor McGonegall said briskly. "Now, shall we?"

Remus and Harry followed the older woman up the smooth cobbled path, through the wide-open gates, and toward the big house. Harry had to trot to keep up with the long strides of the grown-ups, but he didn't mind at all. In fact, he still felt like he was going too slow. He wanted to run through the grass, and maybe roll in it. He was starting to think that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to live here for a while, just until the Professor got better.

But then he met Madam Longbottom.

She was standing in front of the large front door of the magnificent house, a tall, foreboding lady in old fashioned clothes. Her hair was blond-gray, styled in a strange poofy bun that reminded him of the picture on the front of a book he'd seen in the school library called Pride and Prejudice. The lady's clothes were dark red and of the same style as what he'd seen on the front of that same book. Actually, Harry thought the clothes looked stiff and uncomfortable; maybe that was why the lady was looking so stern and severe. Even under the Professor's cold glares, he had detected concern and a lot of thinking going on underneath. But this lady … Harry couldn't get any clue as to what she was feeling or thinking. He'd never seen anyone so severe and cold. It was certainly dignified, but as dignified as ice. Harry slipped his hand into Mr. Remus' and squeezed tightly, straightening his back uncomfortably and wondering if it was too late to run.

"Madam Longbottom," Professor McGonegall greeted the old-fashioned lady politely. "How kind of you to meet with us."

"Indeed," the old woman said coolly, glancing over at Remus and Harry. "Let us take this inside, if you please?"

Without waiting for an answer, the lady turned in a swirl of red skirts and vanished into the house. Remus and Harry followed Professor McGonegall inside. Harry tip-toed, and he could swear that Mr. Remus was on tip-toes too. The entrance to the house was so clean and so rich looking that Link was absolutely sure that he was going to get in trouble for dirtying up something. He paused in the doorway to toe off his shoes, but Mr. Remus stopped him.

"It's alright," the man said quietly. "Entrance halls to magical dwellings are charmed to repel dirt. You won't mess anything up."

Harry looked around doubtfully, but he reluctantly allowed Mr. Remus to pull him along with his shoes still on. Their footsteps clicked and echoed in the huge hall and Harry could almost see his reflection in the polished wood floor. He'd never been anywhere so beautiful in his life. "Aunt Petunia got really mad when I made messes," Harry said softly, trying to hide how his hands had started to shake a little.

"Madam Longbottom has a house elf to clean up," Mr. Remus said patiently, giving him a reassuring smile. "You'll be alright."

Harry made a face, remembering Kooky. "I hate house elfs," he muttered under his breath. Mr. Remus probably heard him, but he didn't say anything in reply, so Harry relaxed.

Madam Longbottom led them to a room that had big glass doors leading to a sprawling green garden. The doors were open, letting in breaths of fresh air that fluttered the long lacy curtains and distracted Harry from gloomy fears of a musty old house like the crazy Headmaster's. Professor McGonegall was chatting with Madam Longbottom the way he'd heard Aunt Petunia chat with ladies she had over for tea sometimes and Harry didn't pay any attention. He was too busy staring longingly at the garden. It was full of bushes, flowers, trees, and plants Harry had never seen, let alone heard of. He wondered if there were magic plants, and maybe magic frogs like the one in that fairy tale he'd snuck from the library that one time. The smells of the garden were even sharper from here, and he longed to pull away from Remus and go running across the lawn toward the sprawling jungle of plants and trees. His nose twitched at the scent of fresh turned earth, damp vegetation, and blooming flowers.

His name being called jerked his attention away from the lovely view and he felt his face flush hot. He'd been told to behave and here he was, daydreaming already.

"Sorry, ma'am!" Harry blurted out, starting to tremble again. "Didn't mean to not pay attention, ma'am."

The lady arched a gray eyebrow at him and gestured at a chair. "I was only asking you if you would like to have a seat," Madam Longbottom said. "There is no need for hysterics."

"Go on, Harry," Mr. Remus whispered, letting go of his hand and giving his back a gentle push.

Harry took a deep breath and walked to the chair near the old lady. When he sat down, still feeling terribly nervous and out of place, he found himself perching on the very edge of the seat. His heart banged against his ribs and he glanced longingly at the gardens again. Aunt Petunia had never minded if he stayed outside while she had guests for tea.

"So, Mr. Potter," Madam Longbottom began as she handed him a cup of tea.

Harry murmured thank you and ducked his head away from her unnervingly piercing eyes. They were worse than the Professor's, somehow, even though her eyes were light blue and rather pretty.

"I understand there has been some trouble at home?" Her words could have been spoken by one of his Primary School teachers, but her tone was closer to Aunt Petunia's. Did she really care? Or was this Madam Longbottom trying to catch him in a lie like his Aunt and Uncle did, even when he wasn't lying?

Harry swallowed hard and the teacup rattled in his saucer as he panicked a little. His Aunt and Uncle had ordered him time and time again to keep his mouth shut about what went on at home, but the Professor said that their rules didn't work anymore. For a few seconds, he was unsure of how to answer. What sort of trouble? He was always in trouble at home.

Feeling that it was safe to just be meek and obedient, he answered quietly, "Yes, ma'am."

"Can you tell me why you weren't happy with your relatives?" the old woman pressed.

Harry's hands convulsively squeezed his cup and he sucked in a sharp breath. Don't tell, was a mantra that had been drilled into him since his Uncle first hit him, back before he could even remember. But the Professor said …

Harry shrugged helplessly. He had no idea how to answer. The Professor spanked him that one time, and then looked like he felt bad. His Aunt and Uncle always acted satisfied when they punished him, even if they were angry.

"I cannot help you if you will not answer me, child," Madam Longbottom said sternly, though there was a slight softening to her voice.

Harry looked up and blinked at the old lady. Mr. Remus looked worried and Professor McGonegall gave him a little smile and a nod to show that it was okay. Harry took a deep, deep breath and looked right into Madam Longbottom's blue eyes.

"They hate me," the boys said simply. "I try to be good, but they still punish me. They don't like me at all. And I don't like them."

"I see," the old lady said calmly. "How do they punish you?"

Harry flinched and his cup rattled against his saucer so badly he was afraid he would drop them. Mr. Remus made a noise like he was going to say something, but Professor McGonegall coughed and shook her head at him a tiny bit. Harry was on his own here. He blinked hard, furious with the lump in his throat and the tears starting to burn the back of his eyes. He didn't want to talk about it. But his desperate look at impassive Professor McGonegall and the sympathetic-looking Mr. Remus weren't helping matters. Harry took another deep breath, but this one felt shaky and clogged with tears.

"P-please don't make me," he whispered, and then dropped his head in shame. "D-don't make me s-say," he pleaded, almost spilling his tea with his shaking hands. Get ahold of yourself, Harry!

"What was your usual punishment?" Madam Longbottom demanded. She wasn't letting up on it, was she?

"Lock me in my cupboard," Harry mumbled, scrunching his nose against the tickle that threatened to make him weepy.

"Your cupboard?" the old woman repeated, probably with an arch of her perfect eyebrows again.

"My room," Harry whispered, shutting his eyes as he burned with humiliation. Why was he talking about this? Mr. Remus said he wasn't going back there, right?

"So you would be sent to your room," Madam Longbottom said even more severely. Harry's heart lurched uncomfortably. Her tone was one he had heard before: she didn't believe him. He felt like his heart had been stabbed. "And was that all?" the old lady demanded

"Uncle Vernon spanked me, when I was bad," Harry whispered desperately, a tear rolling down his flushed and burning cheek. She had to believe him. No way was he going back to the Dursleys. "No supper, when I was bad," Harry added. "And Aunt Petunia … smacked me, when I'd complain and stuff."

Maybe that would be enough. He wouldn't talk about the days spent starving in his cupboard, when he actually tried to eat Dudley's old sneakers because he read about pioneers in America boiling their boots for food. He wouldn't mention how his Aunt and Uncle liked to take away his clothes just to watch him shiver and cry or forced him to take freezing cold baths no matter the weather. He wouldn't say how his Uncle once burned him with the fireplace poker, or sometimes threw food at him and made him eat it off the floor, or locked him in the shed in the winter, or broke his bones and just told him to walk it off. He wouldn't talk about those things, because most of those things weren't even punishments. They were just how things were with the Dursleys and he was so horrified of them he could barely even think about them, let alone talk about them. If the Professor were here, maybe Harry would feel better talking about it, but this lady didn't really care. He got the feeling that she didn't really think there was anything wrong with those kind of punishments.

"I thought you said those people were harming him," Madam Longbottom said accusingly.

Harry flinched and his tea sloshed onto his nice pants. Mr. Remus' hands suddenly came into view and gently took the cup away from him. He was grateful, but he didn't have anything to occupy his trembling hands anymore. He clenched his pants in his shaking hands to keep them from fidgeting too much.

"They were," Professor McGonegall said icily. "Why would he feel comfortable telling a stranger everything those vile muggles did to him? Severus was most adamant about the evidence he found on that child's body."

"A few bruises might be the result of an over-enthusiastic punishment, but sometimes, such discipline is warranted," Madam Longbottom retorted in a severe tone. "Professor Dumbledore knew what he was about, appointing blood guardians for the boy-who-lived. And you tell me he is a werewolf as well?"

"Augusta, I thought you were willing to take the boy," Professor McGonegall said wearily.

Harry flinched and his eyes welled with tears. Was he forever destined to be nothing but a burden? Did no one want him? He wished his Professor would wake up so he could ask him that. Maybe the Professor wanted him, or maybe when he woke up he would be happy that Harry was someone else's problem now.

"I am willing," Madam Longbottom replied to the lady Professor. "But I would like some honesty about the situation beforehand. It is obvious that the boy has been coached. What would he say if we were alone?"

"Likely nothing," Mr. Remus' voice suddenly interrupted, sounding frosty and angry. "He is not lying to you, Lady Longbottom."

"I do not doubt it," the old woman replied coolly. "Only, our generations may have some different ideas on child rearing, Mr. Lupin."

"Abuse isn't discipline," Mr. Remus hissed, sounding furious.

"Minerva, do call off the boy's guard-dog," Madam Longbottom snapped suddenly, cutting off whatever Mr. Remus had been planning to say.

"I cannot help but agree with him," Professor McGonegall retorted. "I do not know why we came here in the first place if you were not willing to –"

"I said, I am willing," Madam Longbottom said sharply, one of her thin gray eyebrows climbing upward. "I believe I have said as much already. But as we discuss such things, why don't we let the boy amuse himself for a bit. Micky!" She said sharply.

With a pop that startled Harry, a little elf appeared, dressed in a sleeveless dress or long shirt of a pale blue silky material, and a crest embroidered on its back. The creature bobbed a quick bow, its long pointed ears trembling.

"Yes, mistress?" Mickey squeaked.

"Find Young Master Longbottom and tell him that he is expected in the tea-room now. He should have been here five minutes ago."

"Right away, mistress!" the elf squeaked, and with another pop, vanished.

"My grandson tends to be … absentminded," Mrs. Longbottom sighed as she picked up her tea again, in a manner that reminded Harry uncomfortably of the way Aunt Petunia sometimes talked about him to her guests. "He will be here soon, and when the boys are occupied, we may conclude our business."

Mr. Remus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I wouldn't call Harry 'business'," he said quietly. "This is the future of a child we're talking about."

"Indeed," Madam Longbottom said sharply. "A child, may I remind you, that you have absolutely no right to. I simply do not see why you have not turned yourself in to the Ministry for the crime you have committed."

"You know why I can't," Mr. Remus responded just as sharply.

"Word will spread somehow that the boy-who-lived is now cursed for the rest of his life. How long will it take the Aurors to discover that you were the source?"

"Please," Professor McGonegall interrupted before things could get ugly. "We are speaking about Harry, and where he will live now that his guardians are unsuitable. Could we leave out other unfortunate events until we work this first problem out?"

"There is no problem," Madam Longbottom said primly. "The boy will stay with me, and I will assure you, he will be safe and cared for. His … issue, will not be a problem. Longbottom Estate has a well-warded garden and wing we will use for the boy's living quarters, to which we can add silver wards. But I am afraid that it would not be a good idea for Mr. Lupin to visit at those times. I will not put my grandson or the workers of our estate in danger from a fully grown werewolf."

"Harry will need me on those nights," Mr. Remus said at once, his brown eyes hard and unyielding. "I will not abandon him. And with the two of us together on Full Moons, both werewolves will be calmer."

"I will not allow you on my property as a monster, Mr. Lupin. That is final."

Harry shivered and hunched in on himself at the way the woman said it. Was this place to be no better than the Dursleys? From the aghast look on Professor McGonegall's face, she hadn't expected Madam Longbottom to be like this either.

"Monster?" Mr. Remus repeated in a mild voice that belied the fury sparking in his gold-flecked eyes. "Is that what Harry is? How can you say that when he's sitting right there?"

"If you are so concerned about his frailty, why—"

Mr. Lupin bristled at once. "I never said he was frail," he interrupted in a sharp tone.

"He is frail," Madam Longbottom retorted in an unyielding tone. "I somehow doubt he will survive a year of Full Moons."

"Harry is stronger than you know," Professor McGonegall snapped. "Why are we here, Madam Longbottom? I thought you wanted to give Mr. Potter a loving home?"

"Loving home? No, a safe place where he can be raised properly while being kept in check as he grows into what Lupin created."

Harry sat there while the adults bickered about him, feeling humiliated and terrified and terribly awkward. He sat uncomfortably for several more minutes, managing to be quiet, when they were suddenly startled by a crash. Madam Longbottom twitched, but her posture stiffened as well. She turned to look at the wide hallway that curved back into the house, and Harry wanted to quail. He could sense something familiar: the threat of punishment.

A boy close to Harry's age, but quite a bit chubbier, tiptoed into the tea-room, his round cheeks red and his brown eyes wide. He was wearing fancy clothes that looked kind of uncomfortable, and his mousy brown hair was a bit tousled, as if it had been . Harry could see that he was shaking, and instantly felt sympathy for the poor kid. Was he going to be punished for being late, and breaking something on his way.

"You broke the hallway vase again," Madam Longbottom said in a stern tone that wasn't a question.

"Y-yes, ma'am," the boy whispered shakily, shrinking in on himself even further. "'M sorry."

"What is that? Speak up, boy; do not mumble."

Harry gulped. Boy was what his Aunt and Uncle called him almost all the time. Was this boy really Madam Longbottom's grandson? Well … he'd been Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's nephew, and they'd treated him worse than a dog.

"I … I … I'm s-sorry," the boy stammered, tears sparkling in his eyes.

"You're sorry … what?" Madam Longbottom said even more severely.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry G-Gr-Grand … Grandmother," the boy whispered, shaking even more.

"That will do," his grandmother snapped, holding up a long wrinkled hand. "You are late. Why did you not arrive on time?"

"I-I l-lost t-track of t-time," the boy stuttered, quaking like a leaf. "I'm s-sorry …"

"You will report to your uncle later," Madam Longbottom interrupted. "Now, may I introduce you to Mr. Harry Potter?"

Harry jerked at hearing his name, but he knew enough of manners to hastily jump off his seat. He glanced nervously at Professor McGonegall and Mr. Remus, and they gave him sympathetic smiles and nods. He stepped toward the other boy, whose red cheeks had gone rather white.

"Mr. Potter, my grandson, Neville Longbottom," the old woman spoke again. "Neville, take Harry outside and show him the gardens. I will send a house elf for you when we need you to come back."

Neville, looking terribly frightened, just nodded, and stumbled toward the patio doors toward the gardens. Harry glanced one last time at the lady Professor and his wolf, and they both nodded for him to go on. Feeling probably too much relief at being released from the stressful conversation, he hurried after Neville, and gratefully followed him out of sight of the tea-room, into the tangled jungle of the Longbottom gardens.

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"Madam Longbottom, what is the meaning of this?" Remus demanded, his tone icy and hard.

"Simply put, you have exaggerated his condition," the old lady said coolly, tapping her nails on the teacup. "I was led to believe that his guardians had incapacitated him in some way. He seems to be perfectly fine."

"He hasn't been with his guardians for at least a week now," Minerva answered for him, her tone angry and somewhat dismayed by Lady Longbottom's callousness. "Dumbledore had him for several days, and he has had time to heal from what those muggles did to him!"

"Don't take me wrong; that boy never should have been placed with muggles in the first place," Madam Longbottom said in a prim tone. "But this does not excuse the way you purposefully misled me about him. I will take him in, only because Frank's wife was his godmother, but do not expect me to coddle him or tend to his every whim. He will be raised as my grandson is raised: with strict discipline."

"Strict discipline is what turned Frank and Alice's boy into that terrified, shaking little child?" Professor McGonegall demanded, narrowing her eyes at the older woman. "And what was that you mentioned about reporting to his uncle? Do we need to investigate you next, Lady Longbottom?"

The woman's blue eyes flashed, and Remus shivered. Frank had been legendary among the Order of the Phoenix for his ruthless temper, and it was rather well-known that he didn't inherit it from his father.

"I will graciously forget that you threatened me, Minerva," Lady Longbottom murmured with threatening softness. "Remember, I do not need to send Neville to Hogwarts, you know. There are other magical schools that are actually easier to reach. In fact, many parents may not send their children to Hogwarts once they hear of this scandal. Dumbledore missing under suspicious circumstances? The boy-who-lived now living in the wizarding world, where he ought to have been in the first place? What will people think? The Daily Prophet will enjoy speculating on your likely conspiracies, Professor."

"Headmistress," Minerva corrected her sharply, so fierce and bold that Remus' mouth twitched. He had always loved and admired her, ever since his school days when she was his Head of House. Now, he admired her even more.

The Lady of Longbottom Estate set her tea down and stood, gazing down at her guests like storm cloud. "Are you certain this is how you wish for matters to stand?"

"I will not leave Harry here with you!" Minerva spat, also standing. Her eyes sparked with temper and her hair, though tightly held in its bun, seemed to frizz with magic. "And I will be seeing what I can do about your treatment of your grandson as well."

"You have no power here, Minerva," Madam Longbottom said coldly. "Do not threaten me in my own home, or presume to know what is best for Neville. I love my grandson as no other; that I am strict and stern with him is no crime. He must grow up quickly, and overcome his innate weakness. Dark times will return, and when they do, I want my boy to be strong enough to battle the darkness. Your coddling of the boy-who-lived will produce a weak dependant incapable of fighting or standing against the evil that will return. With your elimination of Albus Dumbledore, you may have doomed all of Wizarding England to death and darkness. Am I the only one who remembers the brief reign of terror caused by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters?"

"We remember," Remus interrupted sharply. "I lost close friends in that war. You know that."

Madam Longbottom's icy control snapped for a brief instant. "And I lost a son! I will not allow my grandson to be lost as well when the time comes!"

"What you are doing to him is increasing his fear," Remus protested, memories crowding his mind, thick and fast. "My own father tried the same tactic with me! I know!"

"Neville Longbottom is not Remus Lupin," Madam Longbottom replied with derisive calm, her emotions shuttered as quickly as they had been revealed. "I would thank you to remember that. Simply because you were too weak to withstand your father's attempt to strengthen you, does not mean that my grandson is. Neville is stronger than you could ever know."

"And so is Harry," Remus said in a low voice.

He stood from his chair and glanced at Professor McGonegall's grim face. This was a disaster; but they ought to have known that Madam Longbottom was simply too cold to truly allow Harry into her heart. All who had known the woman before she lost Frank to insanity could testify that she had a warm, fierce heart, the soul of a Gryffindor. But in her fear, she had walled herself off from compassion, and only valued strength and endurance. How could he not have guessed? They could not possibly leave Harry here. The boy had been starved for love and compassion enough already. If only Snape would wake up and solve this problem for them!

"It would seem we are at an impasse," Minerva said firmly. "We should take our leave."

"Where will you leave the boy if you will not place him here, where he will be safe?" the Longbottom matriarch demanded. "Do you see now why Dumbledore decided to leave Mr. Potter with his muggle relatives? Blood wards are the only thing more powerful than Longbottom Estates ancient wardings."

"We told you!" Professor McGonegall snapped. "Harry was being abused with those muggles, relatives or not! He would not have even been in the street to be caught by Lupin's wolf if his Aunt and Uncle had cared for him as they ought!"

"And you would believe the word of a former Death Eater as proof that the Boy-Who-Lived must be removed from the blood wards Dumbledore established for his safety and protection?" the old woman sighed. "It sounds highly suspicious to me. Why does it not trouble you?"

"Look, forget it," Remus growled in frustration. "It's more complicated than you assume. We obviously made a mistake thinking Harry would be able to live here."

Madam Longbottom sniffed and gestured in a way that washed her hands of the affair. "Do what you believe best, of course. But if you cannot find any other accommodations, I am still willing to take the boy … despite your insulting manners."

Suddenly, there was a pop, and a house elf stood beside Madam Longbottom, wringing her hands. "Mistress?"

"Flopsy, what do you want?" Lady Longbottom sighed, turning her attention to the elf.

"Forgive Flopsy, Mistress," the elf squeaked, reaching up and twisting her ears. "But there be's Madam Pomfrey from Hogwarts at the Floo, a'lookin' for Headmistress McGonegall! She says it be's an emergency."

Madam Longbottom narrowed her eyes slightly. "Tell her that Minerva and her companions will be returning momentarily. Whatever emergency there is, can wait a few moments."

"Yes mistress!" Flopsy said hastily, bowing before she vanished with a pop.

"I see that you are needed elsewhere," Madam Longbottom announced, turning back to her guests. "I will send Mickey to fetch the boys. Come, we will meet them at the front door."

She called Mickey before they left the tea-room, and sent him off to find Harry and Neville. As they followed the Matriarch of Longbottom Estate back through the house, Remus and Minerva gave one another a worried glance. Had Severus taken a turn for the worse? Or … they almost dared to hope … had Severus showed signs of waking?

"I would say it has been a pleasure," Madam Longbottom announced as they reached the entrance hall. "But I can say with true honesty that this had been a disappointment."

"We can agree on that," Minerva replied with surprising calm. "I apologize for our less-than-professional behavior."

"As you should," the older woman nodded tersely. "But I pray you do not allow this … unpleasant, incident to impact our relationship. I still wish to be informed on affairs that reference this case."

"We will let you know if we cannot find anyone else to take Harry in," Minerva answered, masking the irritation Remus knew she still harbored toward the pureblood Matriarch.

Lady Longbottom watched McGonegall for several seconds as if she could read Minerva's true intentions. Remus knew that the woman was too intelligent to have missed Minerva's skirting of the question. However, instead of calling her out on it, Madam Longbottom adopted a bland 'company' smile, as if all the unpleasantness was behind them now. She then decided to start talking to them about Werewolf regulations; perhaps a subtle form of revenge for the way he and Minerva had talked to her earlier. He braced himself and was careful not to let his consternation show, just hoping that Harry would show up soon so they could get back to Hogwarts and see what Poppy's emergency was.

"I do wonder if you have heard of the latest werewolf regulations passed by the Ministry," Madam Longbottom said with a penetrating look at Remus. "Seeing as young Mr. Potter is now part of your community, you ought to keep up to date on such things, Mr. Lupin."

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Harry took a deep breath for the first time since he'd arrived at Longbottom Estate. The garden's air was cool and filled with life, and once they were out of sight of the tea-room, he smiled at Neville, who gave him a little smile in return.

"Um, hi," Harry said quietly, twisting his hands together behind his back. "I'm … Harry."

"I-I'm N-Neville," the chubby boy replied in an even smaller voice. "D-do you want to s-see my plants?"

"Sure," Harry smiled with relief and glanced around at the bushes and lawns that surrounded them until a path lined with trees a few feet away.

"I, er … g-garden a lot," Neville said shyly, starting down the packed dirt path toward the trees. "It's … w-well, it's about the o-only thing I'm g-good at."

"I can garden too," Harry replied hesitantly as he followed the other boy along the shaded garden path. "My Aunt kind of taught me, and I … did it."

"Our gardener taught me some, and I really liked it," Neville answered softly, his stutter suddenly gone. "I planted some flowers and a snapping turtle plant."

That sounded interesting alright. He'd never even heard of a snapping turtle plant. Harry looked up at the trees, reached out and touched a coating of moss on one of the trunks, and blinked in startled surprise at a beautiful red and yellow bird with long tail-feathers that watched him from its branches.

"Do you really like gardening?" Harry asked suddenly. "I don't really, but it's better than being cooped up inside."

"Yeah," Neville said shyly. "I … well, I really like plants. They're … simple. Compared to people, anyway."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He was starting to understand now, what with Neville's grandmother being the way she was. What had happened to the boy's parents? Were they dead, like Harry's?

"My Mum and Dad died," Harry said aloud. "That's why my Aunt and Uncle took care of me for a while."

"Grandmother says … she said you might live here with us," Neville said cautiously, looking sideways at him.

Harry shivered, thinking of the old woman's frosty eyes. He'd rather live with his Professor, or the Weasleys, or anywhere but here … well, okay, even living here would be better than the Dursleys. So he should be grateful and stop worrying.

"M-maybe we c-could be … friends?" Neville said timidly.

Harry blinked in surprise and stopped walking. "R-really?" he stuttered. "You'd honestly want to be my friend?"

"Sure," Neville said slowly, cautiously. "I've never had a friend before."

"Me neither," Harry grinned. "I'd like it."

"Me too," Neville smiled back in relief.

Harry skipped a little bit in sheer happiness as they reached a big glass building with a jungle of plants inside. Neville pushed the door open and hurried in, and Harry caught the door before it slammed shut, and let it close gently behind him while he stared open-mouthed at the jungle of a garden in this glass house. He stopped just inside, and gaped at everything inside. Different beds along the clear walls held varieties of plants that he had never seen before. Huge vines trailed up trellises leaning against the glass walls, and some of them were moving.

"Harry?" Neville called from further inside.

Harry shook himself and trotted along the smooth dirt path between the plant-beds, watching the moving ones with wide eyes. Neville was crouched beside a large bed filled with plants. They were arranged in a nice pattern, with a circle of small flowering plants surrounding a ring of strange, spiky plants with clear bubbles clinging to the tall, thick leaves. Inside that circle, a tall clump of bushes was growing, covered in delicate white blossoms. Along the back, against the glass wall, a tangled vine-tree was writhing slowly and quietly, and orange beak-like flowers sprouted from its branches and moved like snapping mouths. To say Harry was freaked out was an understatement. He stared at the garden with huge eyes, feet rooted to the ground, and Neville was happily picking his way through the plants on narrow pathways through his plants like the spokes of a wheel.

"Isn't it great?" the chubby boy exclaimed happily. "Grandmother let me have it after I begged for weeks and weeks. It was an early birthday present," he explained. "Because most of these had to be planted in early Spring. My birthday is in a couple weeks: July 30th. Yours is the day after mine, isn't it?"

"Um … I don't know," Harry answered cautiously, his mind flitting around until he managed to remember that his school had told him once when he asked that his birthday was July 31st. Which was the day after the 30th. So, yes, Neville was right. "Oh; yeah, I mean … Yes, my birthday's right after yours. I'll be nine. You?"

"I'll be nine too!" Neville chirped, and then spread his hands proudly over his little garden. "I only needed a little bit of help getting the plants started, but I'm taking care of it on my own now. What do you think?"

Harry gulped and managed to tear his eyes away from the wriggling vines with their snapping beaks. Neville's brown eyes were bright, and his round cheeks were flushed slightly with happiness. He looked so proud, and Harry knew well how much this little plot of land with its weird plants must mean to the other boy. It sent a stab of heartache through his chest, knowing that Neville had a place all his own, while he was still practically homeless. Neville's grandmother didn't want him. Professor McGonegall didn't want him. Mr. Remus apparently couldn't take him. Why couldn't his Professor wake up? Why was he doomed to be an unwanted kid, shoved from place to place, like his Aunt and Uncle shoved him in the cupboard or the shed when they didn't want to see or hear him?

"Harry?" Neville said in a more nervous tone. "Erm … a-are you alright?"

Harry nodded and swallowed hard again. "It's … great," he managed. "Um … will that … thing, eat you?"

"Huh?" Neville spun around and laughed when he saw the snapping orange flowers on the wriggling vine. "Oh; that's just my snapping turtle vine. It only eats insects. Don't worry."

"Oh. Good." Harry nervously shifted his feet and rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants.

"You … don't like it?" Neville asked in a small, disappointed voice. His shoulders slumped and he blinked hard as he looked down at his little flowering plants.

"No, I do!" Harry hastened to assure him. "I think it's brilliant, what you planted and all. But … I don't exactly like moving plants. It's … freaky."

Neville brightened, and even laughed a little. "Yeah? Well, I guess I forgot you grew up with muggles, right? I can show you the other plants. Most of these aren't dangerous, and the ones that are, only if you eat them."

Harry smiled in relief. "I'm not eating any plants in here, don't worry."

"Good," Neville grinned back, skipping out of his little garden-bed and leading Harry along the winding path. "This is the main greenhouse; we've got four others, and two of them are off limits because they have dangerous plants that really will eat you."

Seemingly oblivious to the way Harry blanched with terror, Neville wandered the greenhouse, chattering happily about all the plants and how he first learned about them and how he helped take care of them. Harry didn't understand half of what the boy said. His former experiences with gardens were simple: weed them, water them, prune them when they needed it, add fertilizer and mulch in the spring and fall, done. But according to Neville, there were a thousand other steps to gardening, like transplanting, thinning, splicing, cross-breeding, and other terms Harry had never heard of and couldn't remember. They were happily chatting, or Neville was chatting and Harry was struggling to keep up with him, when an elf popped up right in front of them.

Harry jerked in startled surprise, but Neville let out a yelp, tripped over his own feet, and landed in a freshly fertilized flower bed on his left.

"Oh!" the elf cried, hurrying to help the boy out of the mud. "Mickey is so sorry, Young Master? Is Young Master Longbottom alright?"

"Y-yeah," Neville stammered, his voice shaking as much as it had when he was talking to his grandmother. Harry gingerly stepped into the stinking mulch and helped the elf pull Neville to his feet. Once they were back on the path, the elf snapped his fingers, and the filth disappeared from the other boy's clothes. Harry blinked in surprise, but he remembered that Kooky had done similar things, cleaning up toys and dishes.

"Mickey is so terribly sorry," the elf whimpered, wringing his ears. "Mickey forgets that young Master is getting easily startled."

"It's okay, Mickey," Neville assured him, though the dread in his eyes made Harry almost as nervous as the other boy. "Um … wh-what did G-Grandmother want?"

"Oh," Mickey gulped, bobbing his head in a floppy bow. "Mistress is needing Young Master and their guest Master Potter to come at once to Front Entrance Hall. Mickey is thinking Master Potter's friends be going now."

Harry felt a wave of relief that Professor McGonegall and Mr. Remus wouldn't leave him here, but then he felt guilty and sad that his time with Neville was being cut short so quickly. Neville looked disappointed too, and gave him a sad look.

"I guess we'd better go, then," the chubby boy sighed.

"Mickey be taking you both to the front lawn," the elf suggested. "Young Master and his friend be having muddy, muddy shoes."

"Can't you clean them?" Harry asked aloud.

"If Young Master pleases," the elf replied in discomfort. "But Young Master and guest would have to lift up shoes to clean them."

Harry had excellent balance, and was able to hold out one foot, and then the other, quite readily for the elf to snap them clean. But Neville nearly fell in the flowerbed again, and Harry caught him. The boy was heavier than he was, but about the same height, and his face flamed with embarrassment when Harry stopped him from toppling sideways.

"Sorry," the boy murmured, his face growing redder every second. "I … I'm clumsy."

"That's okay," Harry assured him. "I'll hold you up."

Neville allowed Harry to balance him while Mickey snapped his shoes clean too, and then the elf took their hands and popped them away from the greenhouse. When Harry shook his head free of the disorienting swirl of their surroundings, he found that they were standing in a hallway near a large delicate-looking vase. Neville shied away from it with something like terror in his eyes.

"Young Master shouldn't worry," Mickey scolded him. "Mickey is able to fix anything he breaks."

"I know," Neville whispered. "But Uncle Algie won't see it that way." He shrugged helplessly. "I shouldn't be so clumsy. It's a disgrace to my parents."

Harry blinked at how familiar that seemed to him. His Aunt and Uncle always told him how worthless he was, what a waste of space he was, and how he was a disgrace to their family. Of course, his Professor taught him better, and told him that he shouldn't listen to his relatives anymore because they were liars. Did Neville have an Uncle who constantly told him cruel things, just like Uncle Vernon? It made him angry, imagining this mysterious uncle hurting gentle Neville the way his uncle had hurt him.

"I'll tell my Professor," Harry suddenly announced in a low voice. "He said it's wrong for people to say things like that. He said my Aunt and Uncle were liars, and I shouldn't listen to any of their rules anymore. I know my Professor would tell you too."

Neville shook his head frantically and backed away from him. "N-no, please don't," he stammered softly, turning away as his face grew red again. "It w-wouldn't do a-any good. S-so please … don't cause any trouble on my account. I'm … I'm alright. Really. They're my family, and they do love me. They just don't want me to shame my parents."

Harry deflated. At least Neville's family did love him, apparently. That was more than Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon ever gave him. Even if they told him mean things sometimes and seemed really strict, maybe Harry was just afraid of nothing. Maybe Neville was just sensitive and nervous, and his family was just strict, not cruel. Harry sighed. It was so confusing. But he would tell the Professor anyway, just to see why it was different.

"Come, come," the house elf urged them, hopping along the polished hallway toward the entrance hall that Harry recognized. The boys followed Mickey until they saw Madam Longbottom with Professor McGonegall and Mr. Remus. Neville's Grandmother was talking, but Mr. Remus looked angry and Professor McGonegall looked like she was at the end of her patience. And actually, under both expressions, they looked sick. Harry felt an uneasy curdling in his stomach and he felt sick too. Had something bad happened? Had Madam Longbottom said something to upset his friends?

"Grandmother?" Neville spoke up timidly, shaking slightly where he stood. Harry leaned a little closer to the other boy, bolstering him with his presence. To his relief, Neville did calm down a little, and shrank toward him so their shoulders were pressed together.

"There you are, young man," the old woman said in her frosty, stern voice. "What took so long? Did Mickey have to clean the mud off you again?"

Neville blanched the color of chalk, but he nodded. Harry had to admire his bravery. If it had been him, he would have lied. After all, it was simpler to just say no, since there was no evidence to the contrary.

"It was my fault, ma'am," Harry suddenly blurted out. "Neville wasn't doing anything, but I'm really clumsy, so I knocked him down. By accident. I'm sorry." He threw Neville a guilty look, but the surprise on the other boy's face was worth it. Besides, he was pretty sure Professor McGonegall and Mr. Remus wouldn't care. The Professor might have scolded him, but he was reasonably certain that he wouldn't get beaten for it. The only thing he might be punished for would be the lying, but he was only lying to keep his friend out of trouble! Surely that was okay.

"Neville?" Madam Longbottom said in a severe tone. "Is this true?"

"I didn't even know he bumped me, Ma'am," Neville answered truthfully.

"Mickey got there right when it happened," Harry went on, gaining confidence in his storytelling. "Right, Mickey?"

The elf startled, and blinked huge eyes of disbelief at Harry before he nodded vigorously. "Oh yes, Mickey sees Neville falling when he pops in, yes he does. Master Potter helped Young Master out of the flowerbed, he did."

Madam Longbottom arched one eyebrow in faint disbelief before she seemed to take it in stride and dismiss it as something that didn't much matter. "Very well then. Neville, say good-bye to Mr. Potter."

Neville turned to Harry, stiff and nervous. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry," he said stiffly. "I hope we will see one another again soon."

Harry was flabbergasted by the strange, formal way Neville was talking, but he guessed that he had to say good-bye like that too. If he could.

"Erm, thanks," he said lamely. "I … I liked meeting you too. Maybe we'll see each other again?"

Neville nodded and held out his hand like a grown-up. Harry awkwardly shook his hand, and watched as Neville stepped back to stand nearer to Mickey.

"Ready to go, Harry?" Mr. Remus asked quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Harry nodded, waved to Neville, who startled, and then returned the wave with a little smile. Madam Longbottom watched stonily as Professor McGonegall followed a different house elf to the door, and stepped out into the sunlight. As Remus led him outside, Harry glanced over his shoulder and gave his new friend a beaming smile. Yes, they really would be good friends, he thought. It would be so nice to have a real friend at last.

Harry was silent as Mr. Remus and the lady Professor led him away from the Longbottom Estate. For a brief moment, Harry glanced around and felt a little sad that he wouldn't live here. Neville was his friend now, and would be lonely again. The gardens were lovely, (even if they did have weird moving plants) and it was so nice and beautiful here. But Madam Longbottom was so stern and cold; not hateful like Aunt Petunia, but still … Harry had a feeling that the lady didn't know exactly how to show love. She wasn't anything like Mrs. Weasley, or even Professor McGonegall or Madam Pomfrey. So, with a decisive nod, Harry decided to be very glad that he wasn't going to live here, even if it would leave Neville all alone again.

"Ready, Harry?" Mr. Remus asked him suddenly. Harry startled and looked up, realizing that they were back on the dirt road outside the wrought-iron fence where they had first appeared not too long ago.

"Yeah," Harry nodded hastily, and then hesitated. "Erm … I'm sorry," he added.

"About what?" Remus asked in surprise.

"Never mind," Professor McGonegall said hastily. "We can talk about it when we get back. Poppy's been waiting a solid five minutes already."

Harry's eyes widened. "Madam Pomfrey's waiting? Did something happen?"

"We don't know," Remus soothed him. "She called and said we should get back immediately."

Harry's heart thundered into a terrified rhythm and he clutched Mr. Remus' hand tighter. "Is the Professor okay?" he demanded frantically. He should have been there with his Professor; he shouldn't have left; Madam Pomfrey said that he made the Professor feel better when he was close by. But the world suddenly condensed around him. He couldn't breathe and he was hurtling through a tight tube, twisting and turning until he landed on his feet just outside the familiar gate of Hogwarts.

"I hope so," Remus answered his question, and they followed Professor McGonegall as she hurried through the gates up to the castle.

Hagrid was on his hands and knees near a mound of dirt out on the lawn, and waved to them. Fang was sleeping in the shade of a nearby tree and didn't move. Harry didn't see Snuffles, but maybe Sirius was working on the Motorcycle. He hadn't seemed very happy yesterday when Harry had been trying to help Hagrid with it. Maybe his godfather knew how to fix it.

They entered the cool, dark entrance hall of the castle, and Professor McGonegall led them along the wide passages, past the moving pictures, and straight to the Infirmary. They had barely reached the door when Sirius stuck his head out, and lit up at the sight of them.

"They're here!" he yelled over his shoulder, and grinned at them as he held the door open. "Thank Merlin," he muttered with a grin and wink in Harry's direction. "Poppy was getting ready to send me after you."

"What's happened?" Professor McGonegall demanded, pushing past Sirius. "Why did you say there was a …"

Harry poked his head around the door and let go of Mr. Remus' hand, (he had stopped to say something to Sirius anyway) so he could wriggle in. Madam Pomfrey was hurrying toward the lady Professor, and when her skirts moved out of Harry's line of sight, his gaze locked with a pair of black, penetrating eyes.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, hardly able to believe what he saw.

His Professor had woken up.

HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP

(SEE MY PROFILE FOR EXPLANATION OF "REAL LIFE" STRIKING ...)

Since this might be the last chapter I ever put here, (I was planning to finish it in the next chapter, but ... I'm only halfway done with it, and while I will do my best to write it up today and have it up by tonight or morning, sometimes life happens) I want to thank everybody for following, favoriting, and reviewing and for loving this. I feel bad for leaving you all hanging for like two months already, (or more?) and I'm so glad I don't get paid for this because I'd be so fired. You all are the best, and I have really enjoyed the time I spent here, sharing my scribblings with you.

So anyway, fingers crossed that I'll manage to finish my final chapter and actually finish this darn thing before I leave, but don't keep your hopes up too high for fear they will be dashed horribly ...

On that cheerful note, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!