Chapter 13 - Breakfast Without Algie

Neville woke up and sat bolt upright. He couldn't understand where he was and where his roommates had gone. His eyes began to focus and he realised that the room wasn't all that unfamiliar. In fact he knew every inch of it well. He lay back down, trying to re-gain the pleasant drowsiness from moments before but gave it up as a lost cause when he remembered why he was in his comfy bedroom and not his dormitory at Hogwarts. He jumped out of bed, needing to be active, to stop thinking so much.

He could see his Grandmother in the kitchen from his position at the top of the stairs. He couldn't believe how vulnerable she looked - like a little grey-haired girl. Never tall in stature, her authority had given the impression of height but sitting at the table with her head in her hands, hair released from it's usual strict bun, staring at the piece of toast in front of her, Elsie Longbottom looked more human than Neville had ever seen her. The kitchen was as spotless as usual but it looked wrong in relation to the only person sitting in it, almost as if it was the kitchen which had changed. He stayed on the first floor, gripping the banister 'til his knuckles were white. Should he go down and comfort her, could he?

"She needs looking after and there's only me to do it."

He entered the kitchen by stumbling over a protruding piece of carpet. She looked up at him and greeted him with a nod. He had not heard her say one word since she explained that Algie had been attacked by a group of teenagers and was in St. Mungo's in "critical condition." He, knowing her fondness for tea and trying to help in any way he could, boiled the kettle and gathered together everything he would need to make a pot. However, Neville being Neville, he dropped the cup in his hurry to be a good grandson. It smashed. Mrs Longbottom jumped at the noise, then looked at the floor, regarding the pieces of her cup with what appeared to be mild interest, then went back to staring at her toast.

Elisabeth (Swithin) Longbottom had always been practical. Born at the turn of the century, hers was not a frivolous generation. Usually found preparing for the worst, rather than hoping for the best, no-one could call her overly optimistic. Ever since the early seventies, death had become something people in the wizarding world had to deal with on a daily basis. She remembered the day she had gone with a twenty eight year old Frank to visit Algie while he was feeling a bit ill and they had come back to find her husband Ormond, thirty two year old daughter Ursula, twin fourteen year olds Theodore and Sarah and a huge skull and serpent. That was when Algie moved in and now he had been forced into the same place as the only one of her children which she had not yet out-lived.

All she had left was Neville, and he couldn't even make a pot of tea without smashing a cup. However, she had received an owl that morning and knew there was one more task she had to delegate to Neville, one she couldn't face doing herself, and would actually feel guilty if she did. She had to pass on to Neville the job of going through Algie's things and giving some to charity shops and throwing some away. He wouldn't need them now that he was…..