Augusta Longbottom sat in a lawn chair, watching her clumsy darling of a grandson repot the garden. For a six-year old, he showed remarkable promise in Herbology –not that every six year old boy doesn't enjoy squirming around in the dirt, but Neville seemed to like it more than most- certainly more than Frank had.

She herself had always hated gardening .The best part of growing old had been giving up that chore.

A youthful squeal of joy pierced the air. Neville was running towards her as fast as he could on his short, stubby legs. "Look Gran!!! A caterpillar!"