November 5, 1981

As the sun rose, I was already awake. I hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, and awoke at 5. I trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Incendis”, I muttered, and coffee began to bubble on the pot on the counter. Settling myself down on the couch, I picked up one of the many photographs which littered this old house. This one in particular showed my son, Frank, along with his wife, Alice. They were holding their son during his first Christmas, and moving his arm as though to make him wave.

I remembered that day. We all had been so happy, so carefree. Before things went bad. I was startled by a sharp rapping at my door. Who would be here this early in the morning? My mind raced. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had fallen, but things were still far from perfect, that I knew. However, I reasoned, if someone intended me harm, why would they knock?

Making my decision, I picked up my wand from the table beside me, grasped it tightly, and approached the door. From the kitchen, I could hear the cheery sounds of “Mornings With Millie” on the WWN. As I got close to the door, I looked out a window, trying to get a clear view of who had knocked. I could see three figures there. Standing on my doorstep were Albus Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Molly Weasley, who held a small bundle in her arms. I hurriedly pulled the door open. I had not myself been a militant member of the Order of the Phoenix, but I certainly knew of its purpose and existence. “Albus, Kingsley, Molly! What’s happened now?” Less than a week ago, the Dark Lord had fallen. I thought the terror had ended, but now, I wasn’t so sure. Molly moved close, out of the shadows and into the light coming from the doorway. Now, I saw more clearly what she held in her arms, and a gasp caught in my throat. I would recognize that smile anywhere. In her arms was my grandson.

My mind raced. If he was here…but, no, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t! I turned to Albus, silently pleading him to tell me that my suspicions were wrong. My eyes met his, sparkling blue and filled with sorrow. He stepped forward and placed his hand on my arm.

“Augusta,” Albus began, “a terrible thing has happened…”

“No,” I whispered. They couldn’t be… I jerked my arm away, unwilling to accept this. “Why is Neville here? Where are Frank and Alice? Why isn’t he with them?” I pleaded.

Albus sighed. “Last night, several of Voldemort’s followers were searching for information of their Lord’s whereabouts. They came to Frank and Alice’s home, hoping that the famous Aurors would have the information they sought. When your son and his wife refused to tell him what they wanted to hear, they began to resort to the Cruciatus. Neville was hidden in the house, and the Death Eaters didn’t think to look very hard anyway.”

I felt sick to my stomach. “They’re…they’re dead, then?” I got out weakly.

“No,” Molly put in bitterly. “They’re not dead. But after what that madwoman and her friends did to them, they might be better off dead.”

“Molly,” Albus rebuked gently.

She blushed slightly. “That was too harsh; I’m sorry.”

“They were tortured for so long that…they lost their minds,” Albus explained. “They’re being taken to Saint Mungo’s now to see if anything can be done, but the Healers aren’t hopeful.”

“No!” I whispered again. Then I got louder, repeating it over and over, and my words soon turned to tears, a litany of sorrow. “No, no, it can’t be!”

Wordlessly, Molly came up to me and held me in an embrace. She may have been years my junior, but now, she was the stronger one. They were supposed to have been safe. It had been Lily and James; they had been the ones the Dark Lord wanted. All this was supposed to be over. Frank and Alice had just come out of hiding, and they had been by my side just days ago, celebrating and mourning at once.

“August, you’re his closest relative,” Albus remarked gently. “You’re all he had left; his parents won’t be able to raise him now.”

My grandson. How could I raise him, seeing his parents’ faces every time I looked at his. But, I reminded myself, it wasn’t his fault.

“Of course,” I replied, wiping off my tears and giving a smile. Molly gently placed Neville in my arms. “Is there any…” I gulped and continued, “any legal paperwork I have to go through?”

“No,” Albus assured me. “Everything has been taken care of.”

“The people who…who did this, are they caught?”

“Yes,” he said firmly, anger creeping into his eyes for the first time this morning. “They’re headed to Azkaban, all of them.”

I nodded, pushing my hair out of my eyes. “Will I get to see them? My son and daughter, not those monsters, I mean.”

“Yes,” Albus replied. “But they won’t recognize you, I must warn you.”

“I know. “

“Will you be alright?” Molly asked kindly.

I smiled sadly at her. “I’m not alright now,” I replied. “But, eventually, I think, I will be.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I think, right now, I just need to spend some time with my grandson.”

They seemed to understand, and began to walk away. “Order members will be protecting your house today, just to ensure that you’re safe.”

I brought Neville indoors, and closed the door behind me. The wireless crackled on cheerfully, and I had a strong desire to curse the bloody thing. I sat down heavily on the old armchair in the corner of the salon, with Neville still in my lap.

Finally, I was alone. I didn’t have to keep pretending that I was strong. Tears began to run down my face, and my shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. I looked down, seeing Neville’s face clearly for the first time this morning.

He had a confused smile on his face, and when he saw that he had my attention, he gave an excited little laugh and waved his chubby little arms in the air. Poor thing. He obviously didn’t realize what had happened.

My son, my wonderful, kind son, was gone. He may still be alive, but never again would I see his smile, never again hear another of his witty remarks. After several minutes, I realized that I had no tears left to cry. My sorrow wasn’t gone, not my any means, but for now, it would have to take seed deeper within me.

“They won’t get you,” I promised my giggling grandson. “You’ll be strong; you’ll be able to fight them. You’ll get them back for what they did to your parents.”

Neville had stopped giggling, and he was now giving me a confused look, with his eyes all scrunched. He looked so absolutely comical that I had to laugh.

“Come on, little one,” I soothed. “Let’s get you somewhere to lie down. You must be tired.”

As if on cue, the infant gave a little yawn, and settled himself into my army, burrowing his way into me.

“We’ll make it through somehow,” I whispered, holding my grandson against my heart and rocking him gently. “We’ll get through this, you and I.”