12. Professor Longbottom & Mr Scamander, part I

Neville had just passed through the Entrance Gates, the pillars topped by the noble winged boars rising up high from each side of it. Albeit not snowing, the weather was cold, and no students were outside, apart from a little kid, who stood alone some few yards from the gates. He almost couldn't be seen behind the many layers of heavy clothes he wore. Neville almost didn't recognize him, but he deduced from the outfit's strange colour combination and from the tufts of silvery hair sticking out of his moss green cap it could only be Lysander. On top of a purple sweater not matching his blue and silver uniform scarf, the boy wore what seemed to be ragged naturalist work robes too big for him. Neville was sure it once had belonged to Luna, for he recognized its unique thorns and scratches. No sooner had Neville set foot on the school grounds than the mount of clothes started to move clumsily in his direction.

"Professor!" the little boy called him, panting. "I'm so glad you're finally back! Ravenclaw has told me you were coming." With both his tiny hands, Lysander seized Neville's large one. "Hurry! There's so much work to be done. Professor Sprout didn't have much time to oversee the plants... she had to rush to take care of her own plants at Magical Natural School..."

"Whoa! Easy, kid," Neville said, following his lead to the greenhouses. "You shouldn't run in these large robes. Borrowing mom's clothes?"

"She'd throw it away or give it to charity, but I didn't let her. I begged her to let me keep it," he inflated his chest, proud to be wearing professional work robes. Neville had to suppress a laugh; obviously, Luna would throw it away, it was so pitted he didn't know how it didn't tear apart, it couldn't possibly protect one from any creature more dangerous than a crup. "I look good, don't I?"

"Of course, kid," he patted his head. "But it's too large and heavy for you. We should get you your own work robes, what do you think?"

"No, work robes my size are never this cool, professor. This is faux dragon hide!" his face lighted up as he beheld the wrecked material as if it were made of pure gold. "Of course, I wouldn't keep it if came from a real dragon. I could never live with myself knowing someone had to slay an innocent dragon to make clothes for me..."

"You are so going to be Hagrid's favourite student," Neville smirked at the boy. "Let's do that: I'll ask Professor McGonagall if she can fix it with magic. If it were real dragon hide it'd be impossible, but this one may be transfigurable. If it's not, I'll help you mend it. What do you think?"

"That sounds perfect, professor," the boy smiled, though Neville noticed his smile was somewhat different from usual. "This is my favourite piece of clothing. Not just because it's made of faux dragon hide, but because it reminds me of my mom..." he looked down, trying to conceal the sudden grief that took over his face. "Did you know she's been to St Mungo's, professor? I told you that in my letter, but I think you may haven't read it."

"I'm sorry, Lysander. I haven't been checking my mail lately. I only got your letter today," Neville said, apologetically. "I knew your mother had been ill. I'm so glad she's back on her feet."

"But is she really, professor?" the boy suddenly came to a halt, his head still down. "I know my mom, professor. She tells me she's fine even when she isn't really. She's been writing to me every day telling me everything is alright... but... I feel something is wrong..." To Neville's complete shock, this time, the boy didn't sound completely nonchalant. Since the beginning of the school year, every single time Lynsader had been picked on by other students, it never seemed to trouble him. Neville had even thought nothing could be capable of taking the smile from the little one's face. However, for the first time, Neville detected real grief in his speech. "I'm sorry, professor. Let's just head to the greenhouses. We have much to do."

"No," Neville came to a halt as well, placing his hand tenderly on Lysander's shoulder. "Why would your mother lie to you, kid? She's fine. I've just talked to her. You have nothing to worry about."

"Then why didn't she come to see me? Why didn't she let me visit her in the hospital?" Lysander swayed his body to face Neville, whose heart clenched when he saw tears coming down his light eyes. "Mom would come running to see my brother and me if she were feeling alright... not even granddad came to see us, professor... they think I'm too naive to understand, professor, but I'm not..." the boy had started to shake as he rambled. "The only possible explanation is that mom is not alright and granddad is too busy taking care of her..."

"Kid, let's get in," Neville wheeled him towards the castle by his shoulder. "You are clearly not alright. Let's get something hot for you to drink in my office..."

"No, the plants can't wait, professor..." Lysander said, wiping his tears. "They'll die..."

"They won't. Professor Sprout may not have that much spare time, but she's been teaching in the greenhouses all week. Maybe not as much as they needed, but the plants have been taken care of during the classes. Besides, from what Her Grace's told me, you have done an amazing job with them, am I right?"

"I didn't know you usually talked to Her Grace, professor," suspicious, Lysander said. "If you weren't here, where did you talk to her?"

Neville realized he had made a mistake. He should have chosen his words better, for the boy promptly deduced he had actually been with his mother. 'Well, no use crying over spilt milk,' he thought. Now, he'd better exaggerate about his contact with her, for perhaps it could make the boy feel better, "Exactly where you're thinking, Lysander. I've seen your mother. She is completely fine, I promise you."

"Rita, you're finally here... thank you for coming," Rolf greeted the woman politely, opening the front door to the house. "Please, come in."

"Oh, that's the first time I've been to your house, Rolf," Rita Skeeter said, cynically. "At least, I mean, to this house... you didn't seem to want me here when cuckoo girl was here, did you?" she laughed out loud, surveying him keenly. "Perhaps you were afraid I could spill something..." Rolf had to strive to keep a friendly face, hiding his clenched fist in his robes. "For instance, the glass of wine you were just about to serve me... I hope I don't spill any of it..."

"Certainly, that'd be my pleasure," he hurried to a cupboard, taking several glasses and bottles out of it. "White, I suppose?"

"Oh, no. On this auspicious occasion, I'd rather have red wine," she giggled as she beheld the man struggle to open the bottle without magic. "Oh, that's gold... do it like a muggle, Rolf...! Show Miss Prissy what a model member of the wizarding community you are, how you take her decisions in high regard...!" Upon hearing that, in a fit of fury, Rolf suddenly smashed the crystal glass he had been holding with his bare hands. "Oh, I was just messing with you, Rolf... you didn't take it seriously, did you?" Simpering, she neared him and mended his bleeding hand, fixing the cup thereafter. "I haven't forgotten how you've helped me when I was writting my book on your grandfather..."

"Thanks, Rita," deciding to go for a resistant glass cup instead, Rolf forced himself to smile as he delivered it to her. "It means much to me that you've come." He indicated the couch with his head. "Please, take a seat."

"Whose unblemished reputation am I here to damage irreparably?" she asked casually, sitting down. "I hope not yours, right?" Hysterically, she cackled as if telling the world's most hilarious joke, to which Rolf forced himself to reciprocate, visibly counterfeit, for he knew she wasn't really kidding. "I hope you have a yet again good explanation for being targeted by the Ministry... I'd been trying to dig up in the dirty, though, alas, the investigation is confidential..."

"I've been framed!" he let his words resound in the room for some moments. "You know by whom... by someone I believe you loathe just as much as me..." he had been spouting fire from his nostrils. "Granger..."

Rita gasped with surprise, straightening herself in her seat. "Tell me everything, Rolf," her face lighted up as she sucked on the tip of her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill. "I thought you were here to diss on Longbottom and cuckoo girl for two-timing on you, yet you tell me you have something on Little Miss Perfect?"

"How d'you know?" he retorted, more brusquely than he would have thought wise. "I mean, where did you hear about Luna and Longbottom?" he rephrased the question, more politely this time.

"Oh, a good journalist never reveals its sources!" she squeaked. "I have my means, Rolf. So, Granger," she sought to drive the conversation back to its previous point. "Undoubtedly the person I'd most like to write about... my readers would love a scandal on none less than the Minister for Magic! Spill it out, Rolf." The woman carefully placed the quill upright on her notepad and turned to stare intently at him. "You were saying...?"

"I was saying, Rita, I've been framed! Framed! Since that first time I was condemned, she's trying to have me arrested! Do you remember how she has previously resigned from her post just to make sure I'd end up arrested!?" he yelled and gesticulated madly as the quill swiftly trailblazed the paper. "D'you know what she did now, Rita!? She made a point to interrogate me in, make sure you get this, Courtroom Ten!"

"Courtroom Ten!?" the quill came to a halt in mid-air, as if as shocked as her owner. "After all these years!? What does she take you for!? A Death Eater!?"

"Not only that, Rita...! When I arrived there, she had been waiting for me with the entire Auror Office backing her!" he continued. "That's what our hard-earned gold is paying for! To assist the Minister in her personal crusade against her old grudges!" He hammered on the couch's armrest. "She's never liked me, since before Luna and I got together! She's never forgotten how troublesome I was to her when she was Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures! Then, since I showed my support to Ernest Hawksworth in the elections, she's been out to get me...!"

"Wait," Rita broke him off. "Tell me more about what happened in Courtroom Ten. Miss Prissy herself is in charge of your criminal investigation? Did I get that right!?"

"Yes, Rita, that's what I've been trying to tell you!" he yelled, mindlessly enraged. "Affairs of the Ministry were laid aside so Her Majesty could chase after a recluse researcher who seldom leaves his own house! She invoked every single auror, even Kingsley Shacklebolt, Rita, just to take my testimony! 'Calling back all the aurors on the field, we have an urgent matter!'" he scornfully mimicked Hermione. "'I need you to bring me the most dangerous dark wizard of our time, Professor Rolf Scamander!'"

"What are the charges against you, Rolf?" Rita asked, suddenly concerned. "I've been checking... and Longbottom doesn't seem to have suffered any harm. My first hypothesis was that you two might have duelled once you found out he had been with your wife... though it doesn't seem to fit together." She paused briefly, eyeing Rolf cautiously. "It troubles me that cuckoo girl, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be so fine," Rita drew her wand discreetly. "Did you do something to her, Rolf?"

"What!? Come on, Rita, are you really pointing your wand at me!?"

"Don't be offended, Rolf, this is just a precaution. We're still friends. Please, go on..." she turned her eyes to the quill. "I don't know the details yet, but she seems to have been victimized by some kind of curse..."

"How d'you know that!?" he bellowed. "Er..." he sought to compose himself. "What I meant is... what do you know about Luna's situation? Is she fine?"

"Not much yet, Rolf... though cuckoo father has invited me to his house. I'll talk personally to them tomorrow. It will certainly be eye-opening!"

"Her father has invited you there!? Why!?"

"As I just told you, I've been digging on your case, Rolf. Cuckoo father seems interested in my story as well, for the Quibbler. Well, why not? It can't hurt to hear him..." Rolf stared daggers at Rita whilst he listened to her. "In the hypothesis he can outbid the Prophet..."

"He's trying to buy our silence, Rita! As I said, it's a scam! Why didn't I foresee that!? He's involved as well!" Rolf spat. "Granger's really thought it through! She's a snake, Rita!"

"Rolf, rest assured I'll never destroy your reputation for money..." she stressed the two last words, and Rolf promptly got the hint: she would destroy his reputation if she found it convenient, only not for money. "But, in the case cuckoo girl has really been harmed by you," she clutched her wand firmly, "I'm afraid we have no story on Granger." She bit her bottom lip sternly. "Tell me, sincerely. Did you do anything to her?"

"No, obviously! It's just a scheme, Rita! Granger wants to break me and Luna apart... she's cowardly taking advantage of my wife's mental illness! She's manipulating Luna!"

"I have had access to files regarding your first criminal conviction, Rolf," she made a dramatic pause. "There's some pretty dark stuff in it."

Rolf's pupils dilated as he processed the information. He definitely hadn't been expecting that. "I stress, Rita, my wife is mentally ill!" he made his best effort to explain clearly without losing his temper. "She's psychotic! She's getting worse every day... she doesn't have a clue what she says! How can that nasty woman dare to take advantage of someone in such a situation, Rita!?" He paused, expecting her to say something, but she merely looked back at him with much interest. "Rita, please, take my legal assistant's card. Talk to them. They will confirm everything I'm saying. I've been interrogated in Courtroom Ten, I've been chained, I've been caged! By none less than Kingsley Shacklebolt, on top of all that! That's first page worthy! This will shake Granger's political career, no doubt about it!"

"It will, indeed," she nodded. "I just need to know what are the charges against you, Rolf..." he frowned, bringing his hands to his balding dark hair. "If you won't tell me, I'll have to ask Mr Lovegood tomorrow, Rolf..."

"I didn't do anything to her, Rita," he sought to impersonate the concerned husband, even though, with every year that passed, he got worse at playing this part. "You know how much she means to me, Rita! I fought for her... I fought against the whole Natural School, against everyone who called her freak..." he brought his hands to his face, pretending to cry. "It's a marital curse, Rita. When she cheated on me, it was triggered..." he moaned. "I never imagined it would happen, Rita! But she was not in her soundest mind! She didn't know what she was doing!"

"Is that so, Rolf?" Rita asked, raising an eyebrow as if she had a million things in her mind. "If she is ill to the point she can't even remember she had a marital curse... and Longbottom actually had sex with her in that state, then..." she paused briefly to double-check her line of reasoning before saying it out loud, "It's statutory rape."

"Is it!?" Rolf almost jumped in surprise but composed himself shortly afterwards. "Er... of course! That's what I've been trying to tell you! That man's raped my wife, Rita!" he bellowed. "That's why my wife's nosy friends want to frame me! They want to cover for that fathead friend of theirs!"

"If what you're telling me is true, it's a scandal, Rolf..."

"It is!" Rolf snapped, seeking to conceal his irritation. "We can destroy that bitch's political career...!"

"Do you have a copy of your marriage certificate?" Rita cut him off.

"I beg your pardon!?"

"You did register that, right? I mean, the curse..." she got to her feet. "Get it to me, Rolf... wow, I can barely believe she dared to arrest you for that, sincerely... that's definitely front-page material..."

"Er..." Rolf got to his feet as well, uncomfortably scratching the back of his head. "Could I serve you any more wine, Rita...?"

"Don't change the subject, Rolf," Rita hissed. "Don't you tell me you haven't registered yourself!"

"This law is new, Rita! I didn't know...! I haven't been warned..."

"You haven't been warned!?" she retorted in a mockery tone. "The Ministry took full-page advertisements on the Prophet for an entire week! Not to mention it made the front page when it finally passed..." She crossed her arms, surveying him carefully, expecting him to say anything, but he didn't. Thus, checking briefly what her quill had written, she retrieved it, storing it in her purse. "Alright, Rolf. I'll check things out. Tomorrow I hope to see for myself how your wife really is... if she's really as mentally ill as you claim, then..."

"Check!?" he snarled. 'Since when had Rita begun checking before publishing!?' he thought. "Would I ever lie to you, Rita!? I..." he thought of a way to indirectly ask why had she suddenly changed her policy regarding the accuracy of information. "You used to trust me in the past!"

"Do you remember when I told you I had my means to get information? It happens... there's someone who knows more about them than I'd like. Someone who isn't supposed to..." she scowled as she thought of this person. "It's precisely the Minister, Rolf." Rolf stood speechless, dumbfounded. "That's the main reason I despise her, by the way. So, my hands are completely tied. I can't move against her... unless you have strong evidence she's unrighteously out to get you." She took a deep breath. "Do you?"

"Er..." he babbled. "Talk to my legal assistants, Rita, they'll confirm everything I told you..."

"Why didn't you seek Administrative Services to register that curse?" she interrupted him.

"I just told you, I didn't know!"

"Why didn't your legal assistants tell you, then?"

"I don't talk to my legal assistants 24/7, Rita!"

"If your legal assistants had known your wife carried this kind of curse, they would have reached you when the law was passed. Since you went through a complicated divorce some years ago, I figure they'd have known." Rita paced around the room. "Don't tell me you've put that on her recently, did you?" She laughed, scornfully. "If that's the case, you were the one statutorily abusing her. A mentally ill person can't consent to have oneself cursed..." she wheezed, venomously, as a dizzy Rolf almost fell to the floor. "Well, that if we generously assume cuckoo girl has at some point been sane enough to consent to it..." she let out a little squeal of a laugh. "Anyway, everything will come clean tomorrow..." She simpered again, ironically. "Do you want to add anything, Rolf, or are we done?"

"You are out to get me as well..." Rolf murmured, his anger growing on his chest. "You're on her side..." his fury increased more and more every second. "I... I should have known... how else could you have had access to that confidential files...! You nasty backstabber!"

"Are you going insane as well!? I'm not on Granger's or anyone's side! Investigative journalism is my job, you thick mule!" she spat. "You better have some respect if you expect me not to throw you into the fire before I check everything out, Rolf!" She pulled her purse close to her body and turned her back on him. "I've got everything I need, Rolf. I hope you're really innocent... farewell."

"I'm sorry, Rita! It's just..." he rushed to stall her, desperately. "It's just so much, Rita! Can you tell Luna tomorrow I love her, please?" He staged. "That I don't mind she's cheated on me... all I want is for our family to be united once more..."

Rita analyzed him for some seconds, sincerely questioning if that had been a scene or not. "I'm not allowed to pass on your messages. The Ministry's been very clear with me about the terms of this visit..." she said. "You may not contact her in any way, Rolf. You should comply with that decision."

"Would you comply with that if you were in my shoes, Rita!?"

"Don't try anything stupid, Rolf. She is heavily guarded by the Ministry. In the hypothesis you're considering doing anything else to her, it's in vain. Filius Flitwick was there to perform the Fidelius Charm. Do you know whom with?" she asked in a tone of suspense. "None other than Minerva McGonagall. She's probably the secret-keeper. That's someone I'd be amused to see you try to take on!" Rita snorted, scornfully. "Also, the area around Mr Lovegood's residence was made completely undetectable within a perimeter of 200 yards. It'll be not easy for me to get there tomorrow..." the glanced at the door, then looked at Rolf. "That advice is in your best interest. If you did curse cuckoo girl, you should better plead guilty and comply with your sentence." Lastly, she headed to the door. "I'm leaving now, Rolf. Good luck to you."

He rushed to open the door for her. "Thanks for coming, Rita," he bade her farewell, faking courtesy. "I'm sorry I lost my temper back there."

No sooner had he closed the door than he had already dashed to his underground room. Once in there, in the enchanted open space he raised numerous creatures, he immediately whistled to call his well-trained herd of large winged golden horses, his Abraxans.

"So, are things going to be like this? Is everything lost?" Rolf maniacally told himself as guided the herd out of the room. "I have nothing to lose, then... thanks for the tip, Rita..." he walked the herd to the garden. Once there, he commanded them to stay. Following that, he returned to his house, seizing the first piece of parchment he could find.

Mr Henderson,

I ask your authorization to release my herd of Abraxans at night. They need to stretch their wings at least a little, they are starting to get really restless locked in my underground room. I guarantee you they are really well-trained and won't cause any trouble. I have trained Abraxans for the British Ministry of Magic several times; in case you need to confirm what I'm informing you, please, contact the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

I'm aware I'm not authorized to perform magic, therefore, I won't be able to disillusion them, but I have some Invisibility Potion stored I could easily mix in their feed. Also, I stress I'd only let them out at night.

I sincerely expect you to take my request into consideration,

Rolf Scamander

He called his owl and send it to deliver this letter to the Head of the Auror Office. He clenched his fist hatefully as he watched it soaring high in the sky. "You just wait, Luna..."

"How is she, professor?" Lysander asked, sitting on the tiny stool, receiving from his professor a hot cup of milk. "Why doesn't she let me see her? Why did she send Her Grace to give us the news? Why not even granddad could come!?"

All these questions caught Neville by surprise. That no one in their family had bothered to come and explain the situation personally was news to him. He surely had expected Xeno had come and talked to the kids. Could Lysander be right? Could Luna perhaps be hiding something from him too? Maybe she wasn't really as fine as she claimed to be.

Only that it didn't make any sense, he was probably letting his mind play tricks on him again. He had received the news that Luna had been feeling better from Professor McGonagall herself, who he knew wasn't the kind to hide things. Besides, why would Luna make a point of telling him so many painful secrets and yet lie about this? Finally, in the hypothesis Xeno had been busy taking care of her, why wouldn't she just ask Ginny or Ron to come? There had to be another explanation for that. But what could it be? He wished she had just talked to him about that. Why would he have to use his own judgement so early?

"Is it true, then?" an innocent voice snapped Neville out of his thoughts. "People are saying you were attacked by my father as well, so that's why you've been missing classes. Have you been in the hospital too, professor?" The concern amid the dreamy tone he had inherited from his mother showed itself crystal clear to Neville, who had known her like the back of his own hand. "I was very worried when no one told me why you were away..."

"Are people saying that?" Neville asked, taken aback. "What else are people saying?"

"A lot of stuff, actually. I wish I knew more, but people stop talking when they notice I'm listening. Sometimes I directly ask them to tell me, but they mostly apologize and leave me talking to myself," it didn't surprise Neville that people who didn't know Lysander well would not interpret that as a sincere question, but as an act of defiance to the spreading of rumours. "My brother is under the impression that there's a scheme to get dad arrested, and he's convinced that you were involved. Is he right, professor?"

Suddenly, the answer presented itself to him on a silver platter. "That's precisely the reason why your mother hasn't come to see you, Lysander," Neville knelt down to be on the same level as the youngster. Looking him deep into his eyes shining with tears, he sought to explain as clearly as he could. "She's afraid of your brother's reaction. She believes talking to him right now would only worsen things between them. Also, she couldn't possibly come to the school to talk to you only, could she? He would surely feel left out..."

"Oh... I see..."

"Your mother didn't send your granddad or your aunt Ginny because they could be easy targets for your brother's fury," Lysander stared thoroughly at Neville, paying attention to every word he said as if his own life depended on it. "Just remember what has happened to her the day he was suspended from school." The boy nodded, so Neville continued. "You have my word, she is really feeling better, Lysander, but she's not as good as new. She couldn't afford to be injured like that again. Her Grace, on the other hand, happens to be a portrait. If one of the several portraits of her gets damaged, it's not that big of a deal. Do you understand what I'm telling you, kid?"

"I think so," the boy wheezed, gazing at his feet. "Why didn't she tell me that in her letters? She just told me she would come as soon as she could..."

"C'mon, kid," Neville neared him, gently lifting the boy's head to make him look at him. "Don't be so harsh on your mother. This is a delicate matter to her. She finds a hard time to talk about that. You have no idea how concerned she is, she's so frightened your brother will blame her for all that's happening... but do you know what she told me?" Lysander stared keenly at him, expectant. "She said I could tell you everything. She trusts you completely."

"I didn't mean to be harsh on her, professor. I understand her reasons now. She is right to be cautious... all I want is for her to get better..." the boy began to tear up again. "I don't actually want to know everything, I was just worried, professor..." his crying increased. "I just want to be sure she's alright, that's all..."

"Come here," Neville took the cup from him, placed it on a table and pulled him into an embrace. Lysander at first was caught by surprise but, a few moments later, he tossed himself into the arms of the taller, crying his eyes out. "It's fine, let it out..." Neville caressed his hair softly as he sobbed. "She's not just fine, Lysander. She's more than fine. She's resting with granddad right now. It's all over. No one will ever harm her again." The little child continued to sob inside the man's arms. "You know what? Just take a mouthful of Floo Powder, why don't you use my fireplace to talk to her right now?" Neville made as if letting go of him. "You'll see for yourself how fine she is..."

"No," he moaned, holding tight to the man, refusing to let go of their embrace. "I don't want her to see me like that... she's got much to worry about already..."

"Don't be silly, Lysander," taking notice of the child's resistance, Neville didn't let go of him either. "You're her son. She'd want to know how you're feeling."

"I'd rather talk to her tomorrow. Hopefully, my face won't be this sore from crying..." he mumbled. "She'll heal faster if she's not worried about me. Could we do it that way, professor?"

"It's alright, kid," Neville patted his head. "Let's do it first thing in the morning, then. Will you cheer up a little, now?"

Lysander finally let go of his professor and cracked a tiny smile, "Thanks, professor. You're the best."

Neville stood up, paced to his cupboard and began taking several instruments out of it. "Drink your milk and let's go," he glanced amicably at the kid whilst setting a pile of tools. "Plants won't water themselves, y'know?"

"There you go," said Augusta, seeking to fix the last details in Luna's most recent haircut. "Just a little bit more..."

"Grandma, she's looking perfect already," protested Neville, to whom his fiancée couldn't possibly look better if she tried.

"Alright," she let go of Luna. "You really look stunning. Didn't I tell you getting a haircut would do wonders for you, darling?"

"I only went along with it because Ravenclaw told me I was being narrow-minded," Luna retorted. "I liked my hair better the way it was... it feels strange now..."

"The only thing that could make you look even better would be a snow-white wedding dress... with a veil and everything..." if possible, sounding more dreamy than Luna herself, Augusta spoke more to herself than to the others while she beheld her grandson's fiancée. "I can't understand why it's taking you so long to marry..."

"Oh, it was about time..." Neville sighed. "Grandma, spare us, alright?"

"My biggest fear is that I die before I can finally witness my grandson and his lovely fiancée tying the knot..."

"Well, Augusta, at least you may rest assured your dream to have great-grandchildren is about to come true," replied Luna, caressing her slight baby bump.

"You're showing..." Augusta complained, smoothening Luna's sparkly silver dress. "I told you this dress would make it too obvious..."

"We have nothing to hide, grandma. People will know sooner or later," impatiently, Neville interrupted her. "May we get inside now?"

"Fine," she said, taking Mr Lovegood by the arm. "Let's get in, Xeno. Good luck, dear," she addressed Luna. "Don't forget to smile for the cameras, right?"

"See you inside, moonlight," Neville kissed Luna tenderly on the cheek.

"What!?" Augusta protested. "Are you out of your mind!? You're walking the red carpet with her!"

"Who!? Me!?" Neville felt dizzy. "Grandma, I'm not an honoree, why should I..."

"Even though you two haven't married, much to my chagrin," the elder woman hoarsely spat. "Once you live with her like her husband, sleep in the same bed as her like her husband and even get her pregnant like you were her husband," she paused to stare witheringly at her grandson, "you must as well walk her like her as a proper husband should." Neville didn't say anything, for he feared it could worsen his grandmother's temper. "Take her by the arm, Neville." Tamely, he obliged. "We'll see you both inside..." she led Mr Lovegood by the backdoor, leaving Neville and Luna to enter the event through the front door.

"At least look at the cameras, Neville," Luna whispered to him while they posed for the journalists and photographers covering the event.

"This is crazy, Luna..." Neville couldn't even look in the photographers' direction. "Grandma is crazy... I fell so self-conscious..."

"Look at me, then," she told him, turning his head in her direction and smiling widely at him. "Just forget about them. Pretend it's just you and me..."

He did as he was told, focusing all his attention on the gorgeous woman he had before him. 'There couldn't possibly be someone luckier than me in the whole world,' he thought, examining attentively all her slightest features. Letting himself get caught by the moment, finally forgetting where he actually was, he pulled her close and kissed her deeply.

"Oh, this is front-page material!", "Did you get that!?", "That was an amazing shot!", "People will pay more than 1000 galleons for that!", Neville could hear the fuzz the journalists were making, but it seemed to come from very far away. Only they broke apart could he see the real dimension of the racket.

"Luna! Over here!" a familiar voice shouted. "Rita Skeeter, for the Dialy Prophet!" Luna nodded briefly at the middle-aged woman. "Are you planning on taking this opportunity to announce your pregnancy?"

Neville's cheeks turned red instantly. Luna, for her part, didn't seem embarrassed by the question. "Huh? Did I have to announce it? I had no idea." The entire cluster of journalists instantly burst into laughter. "If I knew, I'd have announced it in my dad's magazine. At least we'd make some gold out of it."

"That's gold! Did you quote that!?" Rita screeched to her quill.

"Er... Miss Lovegood... no, mistress... I mean, doctor... professor..." a clumsy man cleared his way through the crowd. "Huh... no, Your Highness..." the other journalists laughed hard. "Do you remember me? You could still do that if you wanted. Jerry Hopkirk, covering the event on the Quibbler's behalf... you could give me an exclusive..."

"Over my dead body!" Rita roared, being supported by most of her peers.

"Hey, Mr Hopkirk... I do remember you," Luna answered, politely. "Please, call me Luna. To all of you," she addressed the entire group. "No exclusive, right? I confirm the information. You all may write that down." A variety of exclamation sounds followed that. "Excuse us..." Luna waved briefly and drove Neville onwards by his wrists. Whilst he let himself be dragged by her, he questioned himself whether had Luna mastered being a celebrity or had she just been clueless as usual. "Have a lovely evening."

"Professor Lovegood," an elder man accompanied by two younger men had just approached their table. "We came here to congratulate you in person!"

"Researcher of the year, Mungo Bonham Prize in Healing, Dzou Yen Prize in Alchemy and now Order of Merlin, First Class!" one of the two other men, the older one, said. "What else is there for you to win, young lady?"

"Newt, Artemis," Luna stood to greet the men. "Thank you very much, it is really something coming from you both. By the way, please call me by my first name, I am no professor."

"You forgot Witch of the Year, but who is counting?" joked Augusta, getting up as well and shaking the men's hands. "I'm Augusta Longbottom, Luna's grandmother in law, it's a pleasure to meet you. This is my grandson, Neville." Augusta, apparently attempting to be discrete, kicked his ankles.

"Ouch! Er..." upon taking notice of his grandmother's expression, Neville quickly repressed his pained face. "We've met before... huh... in Natural School..." he waved at Newt. "Good to see you again."

"Of course, you're Hogwarts' Herbology professor," Newt shook Neville's hand vividly. "I wouldn't forget, to have McGonagall pick you is really something. I guess you don't know my grandson, Fido." He gestured in the direction of a man about Neville and Luna's age. "He's usually travelling the world, he's just here for the ceremony."

"I'm a magizoologist too, albeit less accomplished," smiling, he shook Luna's hand. "It's an honour to finally meet you, Mrs... er, Luna."

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine," she shook it back lively. "Tell me, in your exploits, have you ever found any evidence on the Crumple-Horned Snorkack?"

All three cackled heartily, completely unaware that it wasn't a joke. "I've been so curious all this time to find out what kind of people had been working with my brother... to finally see it's someone so nice and funny... seriously, I have to give you credit... to take him is not an easy job..."

"Fido!" his father called him out. "Don't even think about talking ill of your brother today!"

"I'm sorry, dad! It wasn't on purpose..."

"Talking about me?" all of the sudden, someone just walked in on them.

"Rolf, we've finally found you! Congratulations on your big day!" Artemis pulled him into a hug. "Where have you been, son? We feared you'd be late!" Rolf flinched briefly, but then he hugged his dad back. "Did you meet with your aunt Tina and your aunt Queenie yet?"

"Congratulations, Rolf, we were all dying to see you!" Newt patted his grandson's back warmly. "How are you doing on this auspicious occasion?"

"Thanks, granddad, but I don't deserve this honour," Rolf answered, putting on an act. "Luna is the real mastermind behind it all." He raised his glass and took a moment to survey Luna lustfully, which made Neville pull her closer. "She's the only one who deserves to be praised."

"Indeed, we should all make a toast to Luna," Artemis suggested, raising his glass as well, being followed by all the others. "The most promising scholar I've ever had the pleasure to meet!"

"That's very kind of you. Unfortunately, I won't be able to drink as well. I... erm... I am expecting a child..."

"That's true!? That's wonderful news!" Newt said, who began shaking Luna and Neville's hands yet again, followed by Artemis. "Congratulations to you both!"

"Wow, that's big news! I wish you both the best!" Fido said. "To you too, Mrs Longbottom. Having great-grandchildren is definitely a milestone!"

"You tell me, Mr Scamander!" Augusta's eyes shone as she looked at the young couple. "I'm on cloud nine!"

"Oh, so is that the reason why you turned down the invitation to teach at Natural School?" Artemis asked, curiously.

"Precisely," Luna nodded.

"My best wishes to you both," Rolf mumbled in between his teeth, seeking to conceal the anger rising inside his chest. "Also, Luna, I had been wanting to talk to you precisely about the invitation for you to teach at Natural School. Could I have a word with you?"

Luna flinched for a bit, whilst Neville squeezed her hand tightly. "Er... sure, Rolf..." Luna squeezed her fiancée's hand back.

"Thank you, Luna. Please, come along..."

"Sure," strongly, she grabbed Neville by the arm, then accompanied Rolf. "Let's go, Neville."

It was already past dinner time and Neville was in his office eating alone, for he had been afraid to bump into Professor McGonagall if he attended dinner at the Great Hall. He hadn't talked to her since his return, and he was considerably frightened of the sermon he would surely hear when they finally met. So, he felt a rowdy shiver down his spine when he heard a knock on his door. Had she finally come to chew him out for missing work so many days?

"Who is it?" Neville asked, cautiously.

"It's me, professor," he heard a familiar dreamy chant coming through the closed door.

Sighing in relief, Neville opened the door and invited Lysander in, "Hey, kid. I see you have already taken a shower. No longer covered in dirt, eh?" he said playfully. "Did you forget something in here?"

"Erm..." Lysander stuttered as he walked into the room. "I just came to check if you were still working, professor... if you needed more help... that's all."

"Oh, no. We've had enough work for today. Also, have you eaten already? If so, you should head right away to your house. First-years are not allowed to wander by the school this late..."

"But it's OK if you happen to be with a professor, right?"

"I guess..."

"What are you doing right now, professor?"

"I'm just having dinner."

"Cool," the school kid dropped his backpack on the floor. "I've eaten and brushed my teeth already, though I'd be delighted to keep you company."

"Kid, it's already past your curfew," Neville stressed, seeking to sound more like Professor McGonagall, but failing miserably. "Come on, I'll escort you to your house..."

"Professor," Lysander cut him off, nervously. "I... I'm a little scared to sleep on my own. I was wondering if I could sleep here with you tonight."

"Oh... I'm sorry, kid..." Neville said, shyly. "Rules are rules. Students should be in their dormitories at night."

"You didn't take rules in that high regard when you broke into the Headmaster's Office to steal Gryffindor's sword, did you?" Lysander pulled a stool closer and sat on it. "What were you reading, professor?" he indicated a magazine next to the edge of the table. "I think I may know what it is. It's a muggle magazine, right? One that tells stories by means of successive stationary pictures... how was it called again?"

"Er... hm... what!?" Neville said, completely astounded. "Would you talk back to your mother or perhaps to your aunt Ginny like you just did to me, Lysander!? I am a Hogwarts professor! I could..." he wasn't sure how to act preachy, but he needed to do something to make the boy listen to him. "I could take house points out of you!" He paused, unsure of what to say next. "You should head to Ravenclaw Tower at once, Mr Scamander," he thought addressing him by his last name could work. "I'm serious."

"Oh, I'm sorry, professor," he turned to gaze apologetically at Neville. "I didn't mean to talk back, it was a serious question. I was just trying to start a conversation." The boy sounded sincere. "I wasn't trying to defy you. I just wanted to stay with you more... that's all..." Neville regret being harsh with the boy the second he saw his downcast facial expression. "It's just... I've been so worried about my mom... I miss her so much..." Neville noticed his eyes were once more brightened by tears. "I'm sorry I'm disturbing you..." he stood up. "I'm heading back to my common room, then..."

"Hey," Neville halted the child. "Listen, you never disturb me, OK? I'm sorry for scolding you. I'd be really thrilled to spend more time with you, kid. It's just... you really can't stay here. I'm not allowed to give students any special treatment. Sleeping on your own is an important part of growing up, also."

"Why? Why is being apart from your family an important part of growing up?" Neville had detected the first sign of cracks in the midst of his dreamy speech. "She had to found a school in which the students can't go home to spend time with their mothers, but did she have to be away from her daughter at all? No!" Lysander grumbled, in a strangely cute outrage burst. "Rules are only for us, peasants!"

Neville mindlessly let out a loud snort of a laugh, "Are you mad at Her Grace of all people, kid?"

The child sniffed a single time and then sought to repress his urge to cry. "I never wanted to come to Hogwarts. I told my mom I wanted to stay with her, but she didn't let me." He gazed at the floor when the tears unwillingly started to flow. "I just wish I could be with her tonight... she always lets me sleep with her..."

Neville approached his stool, seated on it and beckoned the child. "Are you scared or just needy, kid?" The little one came, still looking down to hide his crying face. Neville, then, welcomed the boy into his arms a second time, wrapping him tight. For its part, Lysander let himself fall on the lap of the older, finally giving in to his sobbing.

"Both..." he wept. "Since before I came to the school, I have been worrying about my mom. How could I leave her alone, professor? Alone with... him... who would take care of her?" whilst he held the sobbing child, Neville felt something he had never felt before. How could a child so young be so caring? How could a person so tiny carry a heart so giant? How could he, a tiny little child, expect to protect his mother from anything? He didn't even seem to suspect his littleness, his powerlessness, his frailty... "I'm sorry... I'm being a cry baby..."

"Not at all..." Neville wiped some tears from the youngster's face. "It's fine to cry."

"It's just that... he never lets us cry..."

"Well," Neville told him, making an effort so his voice didn't start to crack as well. "It's all over now, kid. You may cry whenever you feel like it..." he smoothened his hair gently. "Listen... you don't need to sleep on your own. We'll ask Filius if he'll let you sleep in his room..."

"I don't want to stay with him," he replied, decidedly.

"Kid, Professor McGonagall is most certainly furious with me. I can't afford to break any more rules. Flitwick, for his part, is Deputy Headmaster, he has much more power of decision than I do. Not to mention he is the head of your house... while I may not even be head of any house at all..."

"But I want to stay with you, professor."

"With me?" quizzically, the man looked deeply into tiny bright eyes. "Why?"

"I... I..." the kid stuttered. "I don't know." Even though he couldn't put it into words, he looked back at Neville meaningfully, seeking express everything with just his eyes. "I just do."

Admitting defeat, the professor sighed, "Did you bring a blanket?"