Recommended songs: Angel by Chancellor

The Only Heartbreaker by Mitski

AN: Hello, all! How are you liking this so far? As I've said before, I don't have a beta so the amount of random missing words and incorrect things in it is getting out of hand. I will be going back and editing the chapters already out as much as I can so be on the lookout for that or please point out misspellings and such.

Augusta Aislin Longbottom nee Beaufort was enjoying her day. Growing up, she had hated her family home. It had been just a step above the Weasley's hovel, and had been cramped and cluttered with tasteless things. Her mother, damned be her memory, had been one of those women who spent more time entertaining her male friends than caring for her children or her home. Augusta's father had been too busy with his delusions of power and respect to take stock of the reality around him. Augusta and her elder brother, Algernon, had been left mostly to their own devices. The single, elderly house elf and one of the ancestral paintings had taught them all they knew.

Now she lived in an estate she controlled, surrounded in real finery. Fifteen house elves reported to her. The Longbottom manor was everything she'd ever dreamed of. Millions of Galleons had gone into the grand pile's structure and even more into the furnishings and land. The 60 acres attached to it had been turned into fields of magical flora, producing the great majority of the potions ingredients used in the United Kingdom. The gardens were an intricate maze of hedges, flowers, fruit trees, and water fountains. And it was all there for her to enjoy. She was the lady of the Manor, and now that her husband was deceased and her son was indisposed, she was the only ruler.

Algernon had moved into the manor when Frank had been declared unfit and she was very glad to have him near. Poor Algie had never married, instead making it his life's work to support his sister and help her run Longbottom Greenhouses. He took care of much of the minutiae of the estate, letting her focus on the social responsibilities. Life was good and Augusta was enjoying it.

"Madam, you'se is having visitors." One of the elves popped in to tell her. It wrung its hands in the stained apron it wore. Augusta frowned deeply. It was the worst of manners to show up unexpectedly. People tended to know that she was someone to respect tradition and well bred manners.

"Who is it?" Augusta aked.

"Madam Lansing is bringing a man. He is not saying his name." August stood from her settee in such a hurry that her vision went black for a few seconds. The feeling of bile rising to her throat was swallowed back forcefully. She had tried hard to forget the fear she had felt when she had met the Lansing women. There was so much history between the families and there were so many ways that the Longbottoms were under the jurisdiction of the Lansings. Their visit could mean nothing good for Augusta.

"Go seat them into the blue reception room. I'll be there in a moment." The Blue reception room housed her great grandfather's painting, and it was her personal reception room. Everything in it, from the paintings to the tasseled Bergere chairs, were things she loved above all else. No matter what had brought the Lansings to her home, she felt she would need the emotional support of her favorite objects.

Despite the late hour, Augusta had yet to change from her dressing gown. A quick switching spell would take care of that…normally. Unfortunately for her, Augusta had never been very good at casting under pressure. What she did manage was to switch her dressing gown for her brother's dressing gown. Algie was over four times bigger around than she was and about a foot taller. Augusta promptly tripped over the hem and fell into a pretty side table in the hall. The knick knacks on the table went flying and so would august if a house elf hadn't popped in and caught her. Augusta pushed the elf away and performed the switching spell again; right this time.

Some of her sanity, like always, returned when she entered the reception room. The calming shades of blue and the familiarity calmed her jumbled nerves. Amaryllis Lansing was examining Great Uncle Elias' painting. Uncle Elias glared down at her from his frame, his thick palms grasped the arms of his chair with such strength that his knuckles were white. Next to Amaryllis stood a tall man with white blonde hair and a very fine suit under his sleek black robe. His white blond hair and pale gray eyes gave him a very cold aura and Augusta had to suppress a shiver.

"Good afternoon, Madame Longbottom." Amaryllis tilted her head in the smallest possible greeting. "I've come to speak to you about your grandson. Please take a seat. This is Roarke Lansing, he's here to make sure this talk happens smoothly." Augusta swallowed hard and took a seat.

The morning had started very normally. The Great Hall was thrumming with the murmur of sleepy students trying to eat and get their day started. The Head Table was a different case. Minerva was shuffling through thick parchment letters, letters she was going to send out to possible replacements for Severus Snape. Her age was showing lately and the cause was easy to deduce. She had been attending to her regular duties and continuing the search for any possible clues as to where little Harry Potter could be.

Flitwick had been in a terrible mood since he'd been informed about the Potter situation and nothing anyone did could help it. He'd been raised by his mother, a goblin woman who had married her cursebreaker husband and lived her whole life in the tunnels and caves under the Bank, in the ways of goblins. Family and therefore children in specific was held in high regard. Despite their bloodthirsty warrior culture, even the children of enemies were invulnerable. To think that Albus had left a very young child with such monsters! He'd read the reports Minerva had brought back, had even gone to old Muggleborn students to have the Muggle and medical terms translated. The rage inside him felt like a simmering pot, thick and sweltering, burning inside him and threatening to roll him over like the magma in the deepest pits below the Goblin tunnels.

Next to the steaming angry half-goblin sat the head of Hufflepuff House. Pomona was a generally genial woman who had two great loves; Herbology and her students. When she had learned of the Potter boy's disappearance, she had been physically ill and had dug into her maternal ways over her students. She knew there was not much she could do for the poor boy so instead she doubled her efforts to make sure the students were safe and happy. Right then, she was busy eating and sadly writing letters to different Healers in St. Mungos. She had sent her entire house, one after the other, to receive full checkups by Madame Pomfrey. A few students had to be referred to full healers and so she was writing to them to have them come to Hogwarts to help conduct checkups on the rest of the students. She may not be able to do anything for the missing boy but by Magic she would do the best she could for those she could.

The rest of the staff had obviously taken their moods from the three remaining Heads of House. They all understood that something big had happened before the year began and that whatever it was had caused huge shifts in the relationships and moods of their supervisors. Snape's arrest hadn't much been explained other than he'd mentally assaulted a student and Minerva was in search of a replacement. It had only been two days but the uncertainty of who would be the next Head of House Slytherin was starting to get to the senior teachers. Septima Vector was especially anxious as she was the most senior of the professors who had attended as a Slytherin student. While most considered the position as an honor, the majority of professors knew it was a large responsibility and wasn't paid much better than the basic wage for a professor. It required most of the Head's time and, if added to the responsibilities of a professor, left very little free time.

It was into this depressing scene that Amaryllis and Ashur Lansing arrived. Their colored robes helped make them stand out, but they would have stood out regardless. Ashur especially, with his dark skin and long hair and imposing stature drew attention like a scantily dressed woman in a fundamentalist Christian church, that is- immediately and from everyone.

Minerva, as the highest ranking professor,stood to greet the strangers. "May I help you?" she questioned. She could see, from the corner of her eye, a student from her own class stand and come closer.

"Yes Professor. I'm Young Mister Lansing's mother and I must speak to him about important family matters."

The hall was filled with whispers like wind through tree branches as Hawthorne moved closer and bowed to his mother and her companion. Minerva had come down from the raised dais of the high table and was cataloging the similarities between mother and son. She had also been stunned by the resemblance between the Lansing boy and the Potters. However, seeing him next to his mother, a young woman with the same dark curls and pale skin, the same way of standing and the same nose. The nose she thought could have been James Potter's was really the nose Hawthorne had inherited from Amaryllis Lansing.

"Of course, perhaps a nearby classroom would suffice?"

"Thank you Professor, that would be perfect." The rich baritone and heady accent of the man's voice had more than several students (and a couple of teachers) to swoon.

"This is our cousin, Ashur Lansing. He's here as an aide to mother." said Hawthorne.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lansing."

"The pleasure is all mine Professor." Ashur bowed gracefully and caused another fit of swooning. "Please lead the way, you might like to be present for this discussion."