"If I can do nothing right, then I might as well go all out and do it really wrong!" - Neville, the night after he turned down a job with the Auror Department.

Neville blinked his eyes open and stared into a pair of bright blue eyes. Uncomfortably bright. Piercing. Stern. Able to break him in only a few seconds as they'd done his entire life.

"Gran?" he moaned, realizing his head felt like a bag of mashed potatoes.

"He wakes," Augusta stated in an even tone. "I'll go let the Healer know."

"A bit spotty there for a minute, champ."

Moving his head required an effort he just couldn't summon right that moment but Erasmus danced into his line of sight and saved him the trouble. A tall man, his back rail straight despite his rapid approach to 90. He had a craggy gray beard to go with his craggy face and a personality completely opposite of Neville's gran.

Champ.

Neville hated the nickname. Erasmus used it the first time they met over Christmas Dinner and his dislike for the name only spurred Erasmus to use it more. It made him feel like a dog, somehow the image of a dachshund came to mind. A barky one. With long teeth.

"Spotty huh?" he tried to sit up, look for someone, anyone, else to talk to.

"Took a wee hit to yer head, dinnae?" Erasmus laughed heartily.

He must have hit his head in a special place if Erasmus suddenly had an accent. Or, he might be doing it just to mess around. Make him think he was crazy. It was exactly the kind of thing Erasmus would do to Neville.

A bustling of noise startled him and fortunately kept anymore conversation from happening between him and his new Step-Granddad. A Healer in bright yellow robes and a large pair of eyeglasses came in carrying a greenish colored potion.

"Hellllo Mr. Longbottom!"

"Hellllo Ms. Healer," Neville attempted once again to sit up and found his body felt three times heavier than usual.

"Ah-ah-ah, stay down, Mr. Longbottom. You got knocked out—by a child I heard. Your head swelled up and you might have died if Mrs. Potter hadn't brought you right in," the Healer told him in the patronizing tone a parent might take with their naive child.

She then forced the potion right down his throat.

Sputtering and coughing, the thick liquid tasted like sour cherries and broom wax and covered his tongue with a thin film that made him want to gag. "Eeuuugh-"

"Now now, it'll be over soon," she clamped her hand over his mouth, keeping him from throwing up the horrid potion right away. "I'm Healer Hughes, Melinda Higgly-Hughes of the Hughes family. This is a Concussion Draught, just a precaution. It will prevent any ill effects if you do in fact have a concussion or any more brain swelling or even a brain aneurysm. Ha! Those things will kill you, ya know?"

"I do now," Neville resisted the urge to cry. Not from fear or pain, or even the horrible taste the potion left in his mouth. But out of frustration. Did she have to sound so peppy talking about his death, manhandling him, in front of both his Gran and her horrible new husband?

Would it be too much to wish for an actual brain aneurysm?

"Give the potion about 15 minutes and then you can get dressed and leave, sound good Mr. Longbottom?"

The Healer didn't wait for an answer before turning on her feet and marching right out the door. Clearly she had more important things to do.

His Gran took the opportunity to stand next to his bed, looking down at him with a disapproving frown. "Knocked out by a child?"

"Child? Who said child?" he groaned again and this time no one stopped him. "It was a witch, she was just short."

"She?" Erasmus laughed deep from his belly. "A little witch got the better o' you?"

"Does the gender matter?" Neville snapped. Wasn't the first time Erasmus tried to pull that sexist crap, and frankly Neville didn't understand why his Gran put up with it. "I know several witches powerful enough to knock out even the strongest wizard without a thought."

His Gran being one of them. Erasmus didn't look chided in the least though and his Gran looked passive as always.

"And," he continued. "It wasn't a girl. It was a woman, a strong witch. Where is Ginny?"

"She had to go," Augusta patted his shoulder. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better, son."

"Thanks, Gran. Don't worry, I can get myself home."

It would be a cold day in hell when he accepted any kind of assistance from Erasmus, as he was sure the man was about to offer. Offer as he paced back and forth, trying his best not to look bored.

"See Auggie? The lad is dune jus fine if a wee bit pluckie."

"Stop your nonsense, Erasmus," Augusta's eyes turned ever sharper in her husband's direction.

"Of course dear, I'll give you two a moment alone."

"Neville," his Gran said once it was just the two of them. "How did this witch get the jump on both you and Mrs. Potter? I know you decided against pursuing an Auror career-"

"Gran," he stopped her before she could get going. "She didn't 'get the jump'. I… I'm… it was all just a big misunderstanding. I'll take care of it."

He wanted to come clean about the voice in his head that was more than a voice, but something stopped him. Augusta wouldn't understand. More, she would disapprove of his succumbing to the unknown force and not having the mental stamina to resist in the first place.

Maybe it was the whole situation with Hannah but a big part of him was screaming he needed to speak to the person that made it impossible for him to resist the voice in his head. The one who brought it to the front.

Pansy Parkinson.