In the sitting room of the Longbottom home, flames started to grow and swirl a brilliant green color in the fireplace. A moment later Neville stepped from the flames and onto the hearth. He hastily brushed the soot from his robes and started towards the French doors at the other end of the room. He had only taken a few steps when he heard the stanch and slightly angry voice of his Gran.

"Neville, where have you been? You were supposed to be home at five for supper."

Not wanting to look his Gran in the eyes as he lied, he kept his eyes focused on the marble floor under his feet. "I was in Diagon Alley with Harry, I lost track of time. Sorry, it won't happen again."

"How many times have I told you to look at someone when you speak to them? It is a simple matter of respect."

Instantly Neville's head snapped up to look at her. And just as quickly, he regretted it. He saw her expression change from that of righteous pomposity to unabashed concern. She would ask him what had happened, as if she really wanted to talk. He walked over to the davenport across from her chair and sat down.

It was like this whenever he visited his parents. When they got back from St. Mungo's she would ask him how he felt and if he wanted to talk about it. When he was younger he did, and they would talk, but only until she was uncomfortable with his questions. Which really didn't take that long and in the end, he never really felt better. Her answers were always short and direct, they answered the question but not what the question was asking. Today, though he decided that wasn't going to happen.

When her grandson looked up at her, she saw pain and wonder in his face. His eyes were red from tears and tear streaks still shown on his cheeks despite his recent floo travel. But more than that, his eyes were paler than normal and his lids drooped. If she didn't know better she'd have thought he visited his parents. But he told her he was with Harry, and her Neville didn't lie. He may have occasionally snuck an extra helping of pudding or broke a priceless family heirloom, but he never lied about it. He may have been forgetful, clumsy, or ill mannered at times but he wasn't so intentionally and lying was intentional.

"Gran, what happened to mum and dad?"

Mrs. Longbottom was puzzled at this question. It wasn't like Neville to ask about his parents, not now anyway. He hadn't asked since Christmas his first year at Hogwarts. She figured he had finally accepted it, growing up, making friends. She thought he understood that it wasn't important what happened but that his parents loved him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why them, why weren't they killed, where was I?"

The look on his face had changed again. His eyes were clear, no longer cloudy and pale. His jaw was tense and his usually pudgy face was hard, he was determined to get answers. Her usual fleeting responses wouldn't work. He reminded her even more of his father at this moment.

"Why don't you tell me what you know? I've told you some things already and I imagine there are others you've picked up on your own."

"Well, you told me mum and dad were fighting dark wizards like the rest of the smart wizarding world. Just after I turned one, they went into hiding from Voldemort and his"

Suddenly she cut him off. "Neville?"

"What? Oh." Neville suddenly understood what the fuss was about. He didn't even realize he had said his name. "Harry and Professor Dumbledore both say his name, and that fear of a name only gives it power. That and it isn't really his name, it's actually Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Very well, it makes sense. Wise man Dumbledore is."

"Well," Neville began recapping his knowledge of the events again, "we were hiding but Death Eaters found us. They tortured mum and dad but were caught and sent to Azkaban. You didn't tell me but the ones that did it are Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange and Bartemius Crouch Junior. Bartemius died in Azkaban while the others recently escaped. That is all I know."

"I'll start with the easy question. You were here with your grandfather and me. Your parents didn't think you would be safe with them, they knew the Death Eaters were getting close to finding them and didn't want you to get hurt. Why your parents were targets and weren't killed is a little trickier. I'm not sure about it myself. But, your father told me that Albus Dumbledore, Professor Dumbledore, had warned him about a prophecy. Dear Frank, wouldn't tell me what it was though, said it would just make me a target too. I figure they were trying to get Alice and Frank to tell them the prophecy. Torturing them, killing them wouldn't have gotten much information. I don't know what kind of prophecy it was or frankly, why someone would put so much emphasis on it. All that talk of divination and the like is pure madness."

Neville just sat in silence for a moment. That was more than his Gran had ever told him. It wouldn't have made much sense to him before but know it made all the sense in the world. He felt better about it. But looking at his grandmother it was clear she didn't. Usually she sat perfectly erect, her head held high. Now, her head leaned, her eyes peering at the floor and her shoulders drooped down as if exhausted.

"Dad was right. You would have been a target. Gran, remember about two months ago, when the Prophet said Death Eaters and Voldemort entered the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry? They left some things out. The Death Eaters were after a prophecy. They tricked Harry into going. His godfather was killed."

Mrs. Longbottom didn't like the sound of this. He spoke to sure of it, like he had been there. "How do you know this? Did Harry tell you?"

"No, I was there. Harry said he was leaving and a group of us tried to keep him from going. But he wouldn't listen so we all went. There was a prophecy about Harry and Voldemort. The Death Eaters wanted it, to take it back to Voldemort. But we wouldn't let 'em. We fought them until Professor Dumbledore and some others came. I think it might have been the same one mum and dad heard."

The elder Longbottom was in shock. Her grandson, her little Neville had just told her he fought against Death Eaters. Not even sixteen and he fought against Death Eaters and survived. That shock quickly turned to panic though. He had heard the prophecy, and now he would be a target. It couldn't happen they couldn't take Neville from her too.

"Neville, did you hear the prophecy?"

For the second time in just a few short hours and only the second time in his life Neville lied to his Gran. "No, I dropped it. I had it in my hands trying to keep it from Bellatrix and I dropped it."

As she heard him answer, she jumped from her chair and went to the davenport where Neville sat. She pulled him into an uncharacteristic hug. She wasn't the type to give hugs or show spontaneous bouts of emotion. Always reserved and poised, any affection was judicious and measured. But here she was overcome with emotion. She was relieved he wasn't in danger. He didn't know anything. He was safe; they wouldn't come after him.

Feeling quite uncomfortable in his grandmother's hug, Neville looked out the bay windows behind the sofa. He could see the last waning bit of the summer sunset. With her hug growing tighter and giving no sign of an end, Neville wriggled his arms and shoulders. Slowly, he pried his way free. He stood up and began to speak in a small voice. "I'm a little tired. I'm going to go to bed now. Ok?"

Regaining a bit of her composure, Mrs. Longbottom's reply was simple. "Yes dear. I'll see you in the morning."

As Neville made his way out of the room and towards the staircase, he knew sleep wouldn't come easy. He had learned too much today. And every bit changed his life. It was all stuff he should have learned long ago, but he was happy to at least know it. There were still things that didn't make sense though. But he had a hunch of who could make sense of it; he just didn't know if he should contact him.

Neville reached the door to his bedroom. He slowly pushed open the door and took off his robes. Setting the robes on a small chair just inside the door he sat down on his bed. He slipped off his shoes and fell back on top of his bed covers. He was wrong about not being able to sleep. The exhaustion of the day's emotional roller coaster ride overtook him and he was asleep instantly.

Monday morning, Neville woke to a light tapping on his bedroom window. Sitting on the casement was a rather nondescript brown owl. Not knowing who would be owling him, Neville got up and opened the window. The owl simply stuck out its leg not even caring to come inside. No sooner had Neville untied the parchment than the owl flew off. Neville flipped the parchment about and saw the intricate penmanship of Albus Dumbledore. Not having expected any mail, let alone from the headmaster he quickly opened the letter.

August 4, 1996

Dear Neville,

Congratulations on your O.W.L.S. and I hope all is going well with you. I know that a couple days ago you met with Harry in Diagon Alley. I have an inkling as to what you were there about and am just checking to make sure you were okay. You have nothing to worry about as everything regarding that matter has long ago been settled.

If you have any questions or concerns I am here to help. I will be more than willing to answer any questions. However, this is not the medium to do so. If you would like to talk, owl me and I will visit you at your home.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards

P.S. Harry doesn't need to know about this. It is just between you and me.

Here was a letter from the one person that Neville knew could give him more information and it seemed to say that there wasn't anything to worry about. The two people who knew most about the situation didn't agree on it. Professor Dumbledore thought every thing was fine. Harry however, thought that things weren't as clear as the seemed. They did agree on one thing though, it was too risky to discuss by owl. And they didn't seem to trust each other either. Not knowing what else to do, Neville sat down and started to write a letter.

A/N: It is great to know that people are reading the story. There were around 100 hits to the last chapter. However, I could really use some reviews. Chapter length is one thing I would like some feedback on. I know it can depend on the story as to whats appropriate but it seems like some passages go too quickly while others drag on. I would like to know how you all feel about that or anything else that comes to mind.