The Aftermath

Chapter 8

The Cats Are Out of the Bag

August 21th 2009

William Solace sat on his bed. His knees were drawn up tight to his torso, his arms wrapped around them, and he stared unblinkingly at the bunk opposite his. It was the same way Michael had left it, as Will and his siblings hadn't wanted to disturb anything. It was a typical teenage boy's bunk, with semi-dirty clothes and magazines scattered around, a sock or two hiding under the bed and making friends with the dust bunnies. It was also different though; on the oak nightstand beside the bed there was what appeared to be a jewelry box that Will knew contained letters from Michael's mother and siblings, and a well-loved and often-played violin was propped up against the nightstand. The case was lying on the floor close by, overflowing from sheets of music.

The Apollo cabin had named Will the new councillor, and so far he had been doing okay. Will was actually surprised with how natural leading came to him, but he supposed that was what Michael had seen when he tried to decline the job. Michael had always been Will's favorite sibling, though he had never said so. Will could remember fighting in the Battle of the Labyrinth; he had been going against a pretty skilled dracaena and was sure that he had been about to die, but then Michael came and blocked the sword blow that would have beheaded Will, grunting with effort, and given Will an opening to stab the monster in the gut, thus turning it to yellow dust. The Michael had just nodded and went off to kill something else, leaving Will reeling with the sheer nonchalance of the action.

It still amazed Will that it had been Michael to save him. For one, Michael hated swords. If there was ever a chance to go for his bow or even a dagger, Michael would jump at it—admittedly, this might be because Michael sucked with swords compared to the other campers, but that just made it even more unbelievable, considering that Michael was fighting with a sword. Second, Michael was short. Will, who was a year younger than Michael, could look down at him. Will vaguely remembered Michael's mum and thought that he might get his shortness from her. So for Michael to go against this total giant of a dragon-lady was crazy.

Then of course at the end of the battle Michael was healing everyone around him—he himself having a bandage wrapped around his head that was stained red—while Will could only watch, because he was being ordered to lay down before he pulled the stiches on his abdomen. That was when Will learned just how much of a badass his brother was, despite his short stature.

It had only been three days since Will had watched his brother fall to his death, and as cabin leader it fell to him to pack up Michael's belongings and mail them to his mum, but though Will had dressed and made his own bed and watched his own siblings go for breakfast he had not been able to touch his big brothers stuff. Will knew that his siblings hadn't meant to be insensitive, making him do this on his own, because they all cared for Michael and had welcomed him into their cabin right away—it might have been because Michael's mum had given them all really helpful gifts—but Michael had been Will's brother. They had connected in a way that was rare for demigod siblings—what with them dying all the time and the awkwardness that their dad had been with both their mums, it was hard to feel like normal siblings.

Will hadn't cried yet. Maybe that was why his siblings thought that he was doing alright—they had all cried, gotten their eyes red and puffy, their noses snotty and blown, and then moved on with their lives in a startlingly short amount of time. But Will hadn't cried, not once. It wasn't because he didn't care, or that he had made peace with Michael's death—they couldn't even find his body for Hades sake!—it was because Will was still suspended in a state of disbelief. He couldn't fully let himself believe that Michael was dead. He felt like he was stuck in purgatory, or the Fields of Asphodel: nothing was final; concrete. He felt unjudged and frozen.

He felt like he was waiting for something.

The first time Will had finally put his finger on this feeling—that he was waiting for something to happen—he had latched onto it like a drunk on aged whiskey. He was a son of Apollo right? And Apollo was the god of prophecies and oracles, so it was possible that Will was getting a feeling about the future! Granted, he had never had any sign that he could see the future, but that did not discount the idea…. It just made it very unlikely.

Lunch was approaching, but Will didn't move. He found he couldn't, like he had been turned to marble and was forever charged with watching Michael's empty bunk. Eternal vigil for someone who wasn't coming back. Oh gods, Will thought, I'm going to have to watch someone take his bunk.

Will was so distressed by this thought that he barely heard the commotion outside. And the small part of his brain that registered the happy laughs and the shouts of delighted disbelief didn't much care. Not when Michael had just died. In fact, that small part of his brain was uncommonly angry that his fellow campers were not as devastated as him with the death of Michael. Was it because Michael had never gotten big quests like Percy Jackson and saved the world countless times? Because Michael didn't have the freaky smarts like Annabeth Chase and the architecture obsession? (Yes, Will knew about her architecture fanaticism—she would talk to it with anybody who would listen and those that wouldn't. Will was the latter.) Was it that Michael didn't have any special power and wasn't an attention hog?

What was it about Apollo kids that make us seem only good for archery and healing? Will wondered dismally, and he had never had such pessimistic thoughts before—he was the most carefree of his siblings, which was a feat, as they were all morning people. Why are we always in the background?

The door to the Apollo cabin opened, and Will had a sense of déjà vu when he saw the red headed woman he remembered to be Michael's mum. Will was horror stuck, mouth gaping open and eyes widening. Would he have to break the news that her son is dead to the kind lady who had asked him to play his guitar and given him a magical quiver?

Mrs. Potter looked the same as she had when Will had first seen her three years ago. A little more tired perhaps, and with a few more stress lines, but her hair and eyes were just as striking and her smile just as gentle. Then Will saw who was walking behind her with a slight limp, one arm in a sling. He was wearing plain blue jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, along with his ever-present pair of Converse. His dirty blond hair was a mess, as if it had been through a battle with the comb and won. His face—that seemed to be perpetually screwed up in concentration that all the non-Apollo campers thought was from spending too much time looking down the shaft of an arrow, but was really from playing his violin—seemed to be shining with happiness, and he was munching on a small square of ambrosia.

The second Will saw his supposed-dead brother, Michael Yew, he burst into tears.

Michael looked a bit startled and obviously didn't know what to do, because like any self-respecting teenage boy he wasn't the best with emotions, but luckily Mrs. Potter, being a mother, was more experienced in these types of situations.

She immediately went over to Will, sat on the bed with him, and gave him a tight hug. The kind of hug mums give their kids to assure them that they are safe and secure and everything was going to be alright. Will, who hadn't been hugged like that since he was ten, before his own mum had overdosed on prescription sleeping pills and stolen pain medication, buried his head into Mrs. Potter's shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. He was faintly embarrassed that he was reacting like this, but then a new and painful sob tore from him and he felt slim fingers carding through his hair and there were soothing noises in his ear, so he pushed that to the side.

At some point Michael must've taken his arm out of the sling, because he started playing his violin, probably wanting something to do other than stand there awkwardly, and knowing that Will had always enjoyed his playing.

That was what Will fell asleep to.

Adelaide laid Will down and stared at his red-rimmed eyes, wet cheeks, and peaceful face. Looking up at Michael, whose eyes hadn't strayed from Will even as he continued to play his music blindly, Adelaide marvelled at that kind of talent. Though she was good on the piano—good enough to teach all of her children—she always had to be completely focussed. She supposed that it had something to do with his father being the god of music, but she knew that he had to work hard to acquire the amount of skill he had on his violin.

"Michael."

His eyes flicked towards her questioningly.

She pointed towards the door, and he sighed in resignation. Adel stood up and went over to Michael, kissing him on the forehead. (She was always secretly pleased that he didn't make faces or complain that he was too old for that kind of treatment, as she had seen other children his age doing at his school to their own parents. She also liked to think that she and Michael had a special relationship, because she had to earn his trust and love—she'll never forget the first time he called her mum; she knew that if she ever needed to produce a Patronus that was the new feeling she would use.)

"Bye mum," Michael whispered, still playing his violin.

"Bye love. I'll pick you up the last day of August so you can see off Lily, Teddy, James, and Frederick." He seemed to perk up after that, and the tune he was playing became more cheerful.

Adelaide stepped out of the golden Apollo cabin, took a deep breath of warmed-strawberry air, and set out at a leisurely pace back to the camp border. She looked around and saw a cabin with a grass roof, one that looks like a factory, and an ostentatious marble one with lightning bolts carves into the sides. Must be Zeus', Adel thought. In front of a silver cabin there were girls, looking to either be in their pre-teens or early teens in silver parkas milling about. Adelaide was unsure, but she thought that these must be the hunters of Artemis.

She didn't have time to contemplate anymore on the subject because just then, coming out of the cabin was a black haired girl wearing a tiara and black combat boots with electric blue eyes, was someone very familiar that Adel had been sure she would never see again. "Thalia?"

The girl in the tiara looked in her direction and her eyes widened comically in surprise. "Adelaide? What are you doing here?"

"I came to drop my son off," Adel smiled, and couldn't help but go right up to Thalia and give her a hug. They had never been as close as Adelaide and Luke, mostly because Thalia had tried to rebel any authority besides her own and like a typical teenager had thought that the world had revolved around her and that she could do no wrong. Thalia wanted to be tough, and she didn't feel that she really needed another mother when her last one had failed her so horribly. They definitely had their bonding moments, but it had never lasted long.

With Luke, he had been craving parental affection, so they had responded well to each other, Adelaide being so willing to give it.

"What have you been doing?" Adel asked. "I haven't seen you for years, and when I last saw Luke I didn't get a chance to ask how you were."

"Luke visited you?!"

They had a lot of catching up to do.

September 1st 2009

The autumn air was crisp, but the sun was pounding down hotly so it felt like the perfect temperature outside. George thought it was the best kind of weather to be seeing he niece and nephews off to Hogwarts. He stared at the scarlet train wistfully, and held the bundle in his arms more securely. A lot had changed for George in the last few months; on May 12th, his wife had given birth to his twin sons, Alexander and Stephan—Alessa had wanted to name them Alexandros and Stephanos, but even George knew that was cruel, and had put a stop to it. (And really, did it make sense to name their mortal sons Greek names but for Travis and Connor, the two demigods, to get normal ones? George hadn't understood it.)

They made a large group, with both George and Alessa holding an infant, Connor and Travis talking to Michael—who they were still a bit clingy to, thinking that the son of Apollo was dead for three days—Adelaide holding the hands of Simon and Sofia, and of course, the four eleven year olds off to Hogwarts for the year: James, Frederick, Teddy, and Lily. Other families would glance at them curiously, but their attention was fleeting. George had no doubt that if they had any clue that Adelaide Potter was there they would be swarming for autographs or handshakes or even just wanting to touch their saviour. But they had no idea, because why would the Woman-Who-Conquered wear a headscarf and sunglasses, as well as muggle clothing?

Plus, why would Adelaide Potter be seeing off four first year Hogwarts students? She doesn't have any children… that they know of. (Teddy, the half-werewolf Metamorphmagus would be conveniently forgotten.)

George looked down at Alec, who he was holding while Alessa held Stephan. He had Alessa's curly brown hair, George's blue eyes, and looked identical to his brother. George had been ecstatic when he found out they were identical twins, thinking about all the mischief they could get into, what he could teach them. Travis and Connor had been happy as well—probably thinking the exact same thing.

Alessa leaned her head against his shoulder, yawning. "Tired?" He asked.

She gave him a look, "Well I was the one to hear the twins crying last night."

He grinned, "Not my fault I only have one good ear."

She snorted.

Stephan snuffled, which was usually a prelude to crying. Alessa rocked him a bit, and when he made no other complaints, George turned back to Adel seeing off her children off. Adel hugged Lily, who looked like she had a death grip around her waist. Next were James and Frederick, who hugged her together and whispered something to Adel that made her laugh. When it came to Teddy, George saw Adelaide hand him a bit of old parchment that looked familiar, but George didn't recognize it until James and Frederick saw it and James said, "Aw, no fair! Why does Ted get the Map? I thought dad and Uncle George gave it to you, doesn't that mean we get it?"

Adel gave him a look of light reprimand, "Teddy's father is Moony, and therefore he has more claim to it."

"But granddad was Prongs," Frederick pointed out.

"There you go then," Lily cut in. George had to repress a smile; Lily had always been her mother's biggest supporter.

"Huh?" James and Frederick asked, and even Teddy was looking a little dumbfounded. Adel just looked at her daughter proudly.

"Teddy's dad was a Marauder, and our granddad was. Teddy's more closely related to an original Marauder than we are." Lily hooked her arm through Teddy's in a show of support, and looked to her mum for confirmation. When Adel nodded, Lily smiled and went on, "Besides, it's not as if Teddy won't share with us."

Teddy nodded fast, his hair turning a bit purple, and said, "Of course we're going to share the Map, we share everything else." James looked a bit abashed and Frederick smiled—probably thinking of all the mischief the four of them were going to get into.

Adelaide sighed, "I hope you're all in the same House. I can't imagine the four of you being separated."

"Don't worry mum," Frederick assured, "we've already got that planned."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Frederick nodded, "Teddy will get Sorted first and we'll just ask the Hat to put us in with him. Easy; and you said that the Hat let you choose Gryffindor over Slytherin, so why wouldn't that work with us?"

George gasped melodramatically, "What is this blasphemy I hear? Our very own Gryffindor Golden Girl, almost sorted with the evil, slimy snakes of Slytherin? What has the world come to?"

James looked at his uncle disapprovingly, "Snakes are not slimy, and just because some bad people have come from Slytherin doesn't mean that the House is bad or the people in the House are all evil in general. That's stereotyping."

George spluttered, and when he looked over to Adel for help he saw that she had a hand covering her mouth and that her eyes were crinkled around the edges: a sure sign that she was smiling. He was confused for only a moment, but then remembered that James' full name was James Sirius. Adel must think it hilarious that the son she named after her godfather, a most avid Slytherin hater, is the first to come to their defense. It made George's own lips twitch, and he had a hard time keeping a grin off his face while saying in a grave voice, "I apologize; thank you for setting me straight James."

Adel composed herself, and pushed Sofia and Simon in front of her to say goodbye to their brothers and sister until Christmas. George leaned over to her while watching the four eleven year olds assure their younger siblings that they weren't going to forget about them, "You told them about how they're going to be Sorted?"

"Yes. It's cruel to put children in such a high anxiety situation; I have no fond memories about my Sorting, just relief that it was over. I want them to enjoy it as much as they can."

George just hummed, and wondered if she could count the happy memories she had from her time at Hogwarts on one hand. He did not blame her for not wanting to go back and do her seventh year in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat, ignoring the fact that she had had four infants to take care of when classes would have been going on. He changed the subject. "I saw the journals that you gave them. Mind telling me their inspiration?"

Adelaide smirked, her eyes having a wicked sparkle to them that rarely surfaced, "You remember Ginny's diary from her first year?"

George cackled.

Teddy sighed as he stared out the window of the compartment that he and his siblings had commandeered. He watched as his mum picked up his little brother Simon, who had always been more sensitive and was crying with his arms encircling his mum's neck and his short legs wrapped around her waist. Little Sofia had her face pressed against her mum's skirt, and her small shoulders were shaking slightly. Teddy heard an echoing sigh and turned to James, who looked forlorn.

"I'm goin' to miss mum," James announced when the train pulled out of the station and away from the rest of their family, "and Simon's goin' to be upset for weeks. He'll only have Sofia for company, with Michael goin' off to hang out with Travis and Connor."

It was not so surprising that James would be worried about Simon, as he had always loved leading their younger brother around and playing games with him—it was one of the few times that James ever acted mature. Simon would be inconsolable for weeks without his big brother.

"Don't worry so much Jay," Frederick said to his twin, "just make it up to him when we see him at Christmas by spending a bunch of time with him." Typical, Teddy thought with a bit of amusement. Frederick had always been the one with the simple answers. Everything to Frederick seemed so obvious; while other people would go over a decision or thought laboriously, Frederick would come up with an opinion or solution in an instant, and that would be that. It was good for James, as his emotions tended to be more erratic and dangerously deep—Frederick leveled him out, while James helped Frederick be more spontaneous.

James sighed again, but this time it was more relaxed. "Thanks Sev." That was a recent development: calling Frederick by a shortened part of his middle name. The four of them had decided that 'Frederick' was too long, but hadn't wanted to call him Fred—they didn't want to see how their mum would react—and definitely hadn't wanted to call him Rick, because… yuck. Teddy figured that their mum had been eavesdropping—which wasn't hard considering they were having the conversation in the living room while she was in the kitchen, easily within hearing distance—because the next morning she was calling Frederick 'Sev' and even had Sofia and Simon in on it. It had stuck.

"I'm more worried about Sofia," Lily said, biting her bottom lip and petting her rabbit-hat-thing that she had named Roger compulsively. "Not having any female influence! What will happen to her while I'm gone?"

Teddy cleared his throat, making all three of them look at him. He smiled a bit awkwardly, "Won't Sofia have mum? Mum's a female influence."

Frederick and James immediately played outraged. "Are you accusing our mum—"

"—of being a man?!"

"And would that mean—"

"—that our dad was a woman—"

"—and that we are too?"

"Have we been lied to all our lives?!"

Teddy decided to play along. "And if mum is a man Lily, wouldn't that mean that you are too? And if that's true, how would you be a female influence?"

"Alright! Alright!" Lily cried, red in the face, "I get it! Sofia will be fine!" She sounded annoyed, but there was a slight smile on her face, and her previously tense shoulders had eased. "When are we going to visit Kreacher in the kitchens like mum told us to?"

The twins shrugged in unison. "On the weekend?"

Lily nodded. "That's smart. We don't want our visit to interfere with classes. What about Professor Neville? When will we meet him?" Her face was unsure, and the boys' reflected that.

"I dunno…" Teddy said slowly. They had never met this Neville Longbottom, but their mum had said that he was a good friend that she had had a falling out with after the Battle of Hogwarts. She said that he would be glad to meet them, but all Teddy wanted to know was if their falling out had been the same as it was with their Aunt Hermione, Uncle Ron, Aunt Ginny, and Grandma Molly—whom they had never met. Granted, Teddy didn't know what had caused their 'falling out', but he knew that it hurt his mum so it made him unhappy.

"After Herbology," Frederick said. Teddy, Lily, and James all gave him startled and confused looks, so he explained, "That's the class he teaches isn't it? So we'll just introduce ourselves after class." He shrugged, as if it was simple. And it is, Teddy thought to himself, Jay and Lily and I just always have to complicate things. Thank the gods we have Sev to set us straight.

"Okay!" James clapped his hands, evidently done with Serious Talking, "When d'you suppose the trolley will come around with the sweets?"

"We also have to visit Hagrid," Lily reminded them, and all three boys groaned at the thought of having to eat the rock cakes their mother told horror stories about.

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall looked down at the first years that were being led in by the new Transfiguration teacher. To be honest, she missed that part of her job: going to collect the first years from Hagrid and seeing their nervous and innocent faces, daunted by the strict and lecturing teacher in front of them. It had made her heart grow warm. (Also, when certain ones became troublesome or decided to try their hand at pranking, the remembrance of their anxious eleven year old faces was sometimes the only thing that stopped her from wringing their scrawny little necks.)

Now that she was Headmistress though—and she did love being able to make changes to the school, like cutting the Divination class and making Muggle Studies mandatory to purebloods and half-bloods who grew up in the wizarding world—she had decided to let that duty go to one of the staff.

Still, Minerva thought as she listened to the students names being called, it was almost as satisfying to be able to watch their Sorting's from her throne-like chair at the staff table. Most of the students were muggleborns or half-bloods who had a parent who lived fully in the muggle world, which was unsurprising and had been like that for years due to the war. Though there was one name in particular she was listening for that was a boy born of a witch and a wizard. Minerva hoped that Adelaide hadn't decided to send him to a different school, or homeschool him. What a tragedy that would be! Hogwarts, not have Teddy Lupin in her halls; not learning in her classrooms! Why, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin would roll in their graves—particularly Remus; he had always cherished the memories Hogwarts had given him, as a student and a teacher.

"Lupin, Theodore," was called, and Minerva was relieved, but also berating herself: of course Adelaide would send her godson to his parents' school! Where was her faith in her? (Maybe, a tiny and snide voice commented in her mind, it left when she did? Minerva banished that thought immediately; she only missed Adelaide and wished that both of them had kept in touch with each other. She mustn't allow herself to get bitter about things that were half her fault.)

Minerva looked down at the child of two of her students curiously. His hair was pink like his mother liked to keep hers, but he kept his face looking just like his father's looked when he was a boy. And his eyes… Minerva gasped, and heard Neville Longbottom, who was seated next to her, draw in a startled breath. They glanced at each other before turning back, both thinking the same thing.

Those were Adelaide's eyes. Their green was clear and bright, shining and emerald.

The Hat was placed on his head, and barely a minute later, the Hat announced, "Hufflepuff!" and his uniform turned yellow and black. The Hufflepuff table cheered, and Teddy's hair turned red as he went to go sit with his new Housemates. That just caused them to cheer louder—which made his hair turn crimson.

Minerva chuckled, and turned to Neville, "I had wondered if he would be in the House of his mother or his father. I confess myself a bit disappointed that he was not in my old House, but you should be glad: if he gets into half as much trouble as both his parents did, his Head of House will be run ragged."

Neville nodded, looking a bit relieved, "I already have my hands full with the regular recklessness that's thought to be courage, and I don't need pranks." He looked as if he had just had a sudden revelation and looked infinitely more grateful.

"What?" Minerva asked.

"He was also raised by Adel."

Minerva winced at the thought, feeling pity for the Hufflepuff Head, but still chuckled at the misfortune.

"Potter, Frederick."

As soon as they heard the name, Minerva and Neville turned back to the Sorting with a snap of their necks that they barely noticed. A boy looking remarkably like Fred and George Weasely but with Adelaide's darker toned red hair walked up and put the Hat on.

"But I thought that George…"

"He is," Neville answered without further prompting. "He got married to his wife Alessa in Vegas. His mother was furious. He's also got twin boys."

"Hufflepuff!" The Hat announced, and once more applause rang out, this time a little stunned.

"Potter, James."

A boy identical to the last came up to be Sorted.

"What is going on?!" Minerva hissed out of the corner of her mouth. All Neville could do was shake his head mutely.

"Hufflepuff!"

"Potter, Lily."

Minerva and Neville traded alarmed glances when the little girl with black hair and green green eyes walked forward.

"Hufflepuff!"

The Sorting ended, Minerva made her short speech, and the feast began. She was still stunned. And confused. From the look on Neville's face, he felt the same way.

Neville chuckled weakly, "Gotta feel for that Hufflepuff Head, huh?"

September 4th 2009

Neville Longbottom didn't have many regrets in life. When he looks back on his time as a student at Hogwarts, he knows that he was a kind but timid child with low self-esteem. His gran had been too overbearing for him; she pushed him so hard to be like a father he never truly knew that Neville collapsed into himself with his feelings of inadequacy. But instead of allowing himself to get bitter, he tried to be nice to everyone he met, and his best friends were his plants. Then Voldemort had returned, and there were so many chances for him to show that he really was meant to be in Gryffindor.

He had risen to the challenge, and in the end he stood up to Voldemort. He had killed Nagini.

So no, Neville didn't have many regrets in life. He knew that he was a good person. But all of the regrets that he did have seemed to revolve around one Adelaide Potter.

From the very beginning when he had met her on the train before first year had even started, she had been probably the best friend one could ask for. He had gone into the compartment she was sharing with Ron, asking if either of them had seen his toad Trevor, and she had offered to help him look right away. He hadn't really looked at her as they left Ron in the compartment and Hermione asked them in the bossy and intimidating tone she had back then if they had found Trevor, but thinking back on it she had looked sick.

Her skin was pale, as if she didn't see much sun. She had black smudges underneath her eyes that announced she hadn't had much sleep the night before. She was thin as a rake and short in stature—shorter than him, and Neville hadn't been that tall back in first year. And her eyes had held the same hopeful shine to them as his; the look of someone lonely, just wanting a friend. Neville knows—just knows; it's a gut feeling—that Adelaide had seen something of a kindred spirit in him. Back then though, he hadn't thought twice about these things, and he was too shy to properly put himself out there and acquire friends.

He should have asked her if she was feeling alright—he doesn't blame himself much on this though, because eleven year old children never think once that a classmate of theirs is being maltreated at home; is being almost-starved and worked to the bone with chores.

He should have stuck to her like glue and been the best friend he could to her—he does blame himself for this, because he suspected that this is why she offered to help him find his toad; she was trying to see if he would be a friend to her. (And though Neville is good friends with Ron—he kind of has to be, what with Neville being married to his sister—he knows that he would have been better for Adelaide, friend wise. Ron had no tact, had a tendency to hurt peoples' feelings without even trying, and—back then—liked to complain about his lot in life way too much. Adelaide hadn't needed someone to drag her down like that; she needed someone to listen to her, not talk at her like Ron and even Hermione did. Neville wished he had seen that he was the perfect person for that. They could have been best friends; brother and sister.)

There were a bunch of other little things, like talking to her more, seeing if she was sleeping, helping her with her Herbology homework—she helped him with Defense enough times that he should have thought to offer, but he had been a stupid oblivious boy who was just relieved he wasn't going to fail the class that his gran wanted him to focus on the most, as you need it to become an Auror. The biggest thing that Neville regretted about his life was that he hadn't stayed in touch with Adelaide when she moved—he didn't even know where; for all he knew she was in Africa helping out starving children.

He should have clung to her after the Battle of Hogwarts, made sure that she wasn't wallowing in the grief he remembered in her eyes. When people had started celebrating, Neville remembered how she looked at them in horror before George had whisked her away. That was the last time Neville had seen her. She hadn't even attended the Death Eater trials—though she did send George with her signature on a letter stating that she was a witness to Draco Malfoy helping the Light side, and that if not for Narcissa Malfoy she would have been dead. She asked for them to be pardoned, and they were. (Neville had made a point to go to all of the trials, as he wanted to see this whole mess to the end, and he will never forget the pure shock on Draco Malfoy's face when his schoolyard enemy got him out of prison. He will never forget Narcissa Malfoy's tears.)

Now Neville Longbottom regretted not knowing her children.

He had just had his first Herbology lesson with the first year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, and he hadn't been able to look away from the four children that Adelaide had raised for more than five minutes at a time. He had just dismissed his class and was cleaning up when he noticed the four children that had been on his mind since the opening feast had stayed back and were now standing awkwardly a bit away from him. They were covered in soil, and the twin boys kept trying to rub dirt on the others face. Teddy and Lily had their pinkies linked, and Lily was bouncing on the balls of her feet anxiously while Teddy was staring at his free had with a look of distain for the dirt.

Neville cleared his throat, "Yes? Can I help you?" Truthfully, he was glad that they had come up to him instead of him having to initiate an interaction. How was one supposed to go up to the children of an old friend and ask them how their mother is, because you were too busy getting your Herbology Masters and being happy to keep in contact? Oh, and ask who their father is. Awkward.

"Yes Professor Neville," it was Lily who spoke, and Neville was startled enough by what she called him that he felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. She looked at her brothers for help, and one of the twins stepped forward, swatting his brother's hands away from his face.

"Mum said that she and you were old school friends and she wanted us to meet you. I'm Frederick Severus Potter—"

His twin cut in, "—but you can call him Sev—"

"—everyone does—"

"—and I'm James Sirius Potter—"

"—but you can call him Jay—"

"—almost everyone does."

Neville was having flashbacks to the Weasely twins, always trying to confuse people. He hadn't realised how much he had missed it, just as he had forgotten how annoying it could be.

"I'm Lily Nymphadora Potter," the black haired girl said with a hesitant smile.

"And I'm Teddy Remus Lupin."

"Nooo~" one twin—Neville thought that it was James—sang.

"It's Theodore." The other said.

"Right Theodore?" They asked together.

Teddy's hair turned a dark red and his eyes became an emerald green. His skin became a milky pale and his features became a little more delicate. Then he put a stern expression on and said in a firm tone, "James and Frederick Potter, do not tease your brother on his name. It is a family name, just as yours are and you are to respect that." His voice was even a little higher than normal, though that wasn't due to his Metamorphmagus talent and more attributed to practice.

The twins had identical looks of horror plastered on their faces, a bit of the feeling genuine, while Lily was giggling. Neville had no trouble believing that these children had grown up together.

"Don't do that!"

"It's freaky!"

"Downright scary!"

"You sound just like mum!"

"We feel like we're about to be told to read a whole potions book and take notes!"

"Then what are you not supposed to do…?" Teddy asked, still looking a bit like Adelaide.

"Not make fun of your name." The twins intoned glumly.

One said under their breath, "Theodore," but Teddy pretended not to notice.

"Er…." Neville said, feeling as if he was interrupting something, "Who's you're dad?" They looked like George, but Neville was sure that he would have known if George had any other children besides Alexander and Stephen, so that meant….

Lily looked sad, and even the twins weren't joking around when she answered, "Fred Weasely."

Neville was going to have to take a trip to the Burrow this weekend.