#longbottoms

[equippedtolove]

guys i feel like if voldemort chose the longbottoms over the potters, snape would still be a death eater. he did it all for lily, didn't he?

[thespellbooksociety]

Augusta - one-shot

The frigid night sent shivers down Augusta Longbottom's spine, the biting wind howling like a menacing predator stalking the deserted streets. Her robes billowed behind her, caught in the relentless gusts, as she marched through the imposing gates of her son's residence. The bone-chilling cold seeped into her very being, but it was the nauseating dread twisting her stomach that consumed her. Every fiber of her being was alert, her senses on edge, as if the air itself whispered that something was horribly amiss.

She'd been sipping her evening tea when it struck her—a deep, primal fear. Instinct had kicked in like a surge of electricity through her spine. Without a second thought, she'd abandoned her cup, thrown on her traveling cloak, and Apparated straight to Frank and Alice's house. Her son, her daughter-in-law, and... little Neville.

Merlin, please let him be safe.

As she approached, the door stood slightly ajar, swaying back and forth with the gentle wind. A rush of adrenaline made her heart thump loudly in her chest as she cautiously pushed it open, her fingers tightly gripping her wand. The silence inside the house was unsettling, the kind that pierced through the air, hinting at something dreadfully amiss. The atmosphere was heavy with the presence of dark magic, suffocating and thick like a dense fog. Her breaths came in quick, shallow gasps, matching the pace of her eyes as they scanned the front room. Augusta had been taught by Frank how to cast a Patronus messenger, a skill she hadn't fully mastered until recently. Knowing time was running out, she conjured her Patronus and sent it to Alastor Moody, hoping for help. But deep down, she understood she couldn't afford to wait for him—something had to be done now.

The furniture lay overturned, books scattered and picture frames smashed, creating a chaotic scene on the floor. Augusta's heart pounded against her ribs, its rhythmic thumping echoing in her ears, as she cautiously stepped inside. The worn wooden floor creaked loudly under the weight of her boots. Her eyes darted around, taking in the sight of the staircase, the entrance to the kitchen, and the seemingly endless hallway. The silence was deafening, devoid of any signs of life.

The foul and metallic smell permeated the air, assaulting her senses as she breathed in.

She recognized that scent instantly, its putrid odor of anguish and brutality. As her fingers clenched around her wand, she could feel its cool, smooth surface beneath her touch. The air was heavy with an ominous silence, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves. Every fiber of her being urged her to flee, to escape the impending danger. Yet, she refused to yield. Bravery coursed through her veins, refusing to succumb to fear. For her family, she would stand strong, unwavering in the face of adversity.

Suddenly, the silence shattered as a loud crash echoed through the air. Deeper within the house, a disturbing, throaty laugh resonated, followed by the haunting sound of voices filled with malice and mockery.

Her breath caught in her throat as she moved swiftly, her movements as precise as they were determined. She'd been a fighter once, long ago, during the Global Wizarding War. She knew how to handle herself in battle. Even now, at her age, the fire in her had never dimmed.

As she moved down the hallway, the low, guttural laugh of a woman reached her ears. The laugh sent a cold shiver down her spine. Bellatrix Lestrange.

She approached silently, her heart pounding but her steps steady, the dark magic in the air making every hair on her body stand on end. Peering around the corner, her eyes narrowed at the sight of the four Death Eaters looming over her son and daughter-in-law. Bellatrix Lestrange was laughing maniacally, her wand raised, while Barty Crouch Jr. lounged near the fireplace, as if this were a casual gathering. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange stood nearby, their wands out but their attention scattered. None of them had noticed her.

Augusta knew well that survival often depended on who struck first.

Without hesitation, she raised her wand, whispering, "Stupefy!"

A sudden, blinding flash of crimson light streaked through the room, slicing through the air with an electric intensity. The searing beam found its mark, striking Rabastan directly in the chest. The impact was immediate and brutal, causing him to crumple to the ground in an instant, before the others even realized what was happening.

The moment froze, a hushed silence falling over the onlookers. All eyes snapped to Augusta, anticipation hanging in the air. With a swift and precise movement, her wand sliced through the atmosphere, creating a symphony of whirling sounds. Spells erupted from her wand, hurtling towards the remaining three adversaries. The force of her incantations filled the space, crackling with a palpable energy. "Expulso!" she cried, her voice resonating with power. The explosive curse erupted, causing Barty to hastily dive out of harm's way. The ground shattered beneath him, the fragments scattering and filling the air with a cloud of dust.

Bellatrix's manic grin faltered, her shrill voice cutting through the chaos. "Granny Longbottom! You think you can take us all?" She flicked her wand toward Augusta, but Augusta was prepared.

"Protego!" she shouted, a shimmering barrier forming before her just as Rodolphus hurled a curse, the impact sending sparks flying as it ricocheted off her shield.

Augusta pressed her advantage, stepping forward with fierce determination. "You'll pay for what you've done!" she hissed, her fury burning hotter than the cold night air. She flicked her wand again, sending a Blasting Curse toward Rodolphus. He stumbled, barely deflecting her next hex, but his footing was already faltering.

With a swift and decisive motion, Augusta abruptly shifted her gaze towards Barty. The air crackled as she forcefully slashed her wand downward, unleashing a dazzling streak of magic. A resonating thud echoed through the room as the Stupefy spell connected, striking Barty squarely in the chest. He slumped to the floor, his body limp and motionless, succumbing to unconsciousness.

It was now two down. Only Bellatrix and Rodolphus remained. Augusta squared her shoulders, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She was ready for the final assault.

Rodolphus emitted an enraged roar, his footsteps thundering as he barreled towards her, his wand brandished high. Augusta swiftly responded, her wand gliding through the air with exactitude. "Petrificus Totalus!"

The spell struck Rodolphus head-on, causing his body to instantly stiffen. With a resounding thump, he collapsed onto the ground, his eyes filled with sheer astonishment. Immobilized, he could do nothing but watch as his limbs locked into place, rendering him motionless.

Three down.

Just as Augusta was regaining her breath, she was abruptly jolted by a powerful force.

"Expelliarmus!"

Augusta's wand flew out of her hand, and she stumbled back, unarmed. She swore under her breath—she'd been too focused on the others and hadn't anticipated Bellatrix's next move.

Bellatrix's sinister grin stretched across her face, revealing a row of white teeth. With calculated steps, she closed in on Augusta, her predatory gaze filled with malevolence. The glint in her eyes mirrored the wickedness that emanated from her very being. "Granny Longbottom, still trying to play the hero, are we?" she sneered, her voice laced with malevolence, the words dripping like venom from her lips. "Do you really think you can save anyone tonight?"

Augusta's heart raced as she backed up, glancing around for something—anything—that could give her the upper hand. "You'll never win, Bellatrix," she spat, standing her ground.

"Oh, I don't need to win," Bellatrix crooned, circling her like a predator. "I just need to make sure you suffer before it ends."

As Bellatrix raised her wand to cast a curse, Augusta's fingers brushed against something on the floor—a small, forgotten toy. Neville's stuffed dragon, discarded in the chaos. She gripped it tightly.

Bellatrix's lips curled into a sneer. "What are you going to do with that, old woman?"

Augusta, without a moment's pause, forcefully launched the toy towards Bellatrix's face. The toy dragon connected with a solid impact, striking her squarely on the forehead. The force of the hit caused Bellatrix to stumble backward, momentarily disoriented and surprised. The sneer on her face vanished, replaced by a look of sheer astonishment.

"You—!"

In that fleeting moment, Augusta's eyes locked onto her target. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses. With a swift motion, she lunged forward, the sound of her determined footsteps echoing in the chaos. Her fingers closed around a nearby fork, its cold metal sending a jolt of anticipation up her arm. She swung it with precision, the sound of the sharp tines slicing through the air. The impact against Bellatrix's hand reverberated through Augusta's bones, causing a momentary sting in her own palm. The force was enough to make Bellatrix relinquish her wand, its clatter on the ground breaking the tension in the room.

The Death Eater's shrill cry of surprise and fury pierced the air, reverberating with a mix of shock and rage. However, Augusta wasted no time in allowing her adversary to regain composure. With a swift and forceful movement, she lunged at Bellatrix, forcefully toppling her to the ground. Amidst the tumultuous struggle, Augusta's fingers closed around Bellatrix's discarded wand, its cool surface chilling her palm. Without a moment's hesitation, she aimed the wand directly at her fallen foe, the tip trembling with determination.

"Stupefy!"

The spell hit Bellatrix square in the chest, and she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Augusta stood there, her breath coming out in ragged gasps, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. The air around her felt heavy, thick with the remnants of the danger that had just subsided. Her heart pounded in her chest, the rapid thumping echoing in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. Tremors coursed through her body, causing her legs to shake uncontrollably. She could taste the metallic tang of fear in her mouth, a bitter reminder of the adrenaline that had surged through her veins. But, as she looked around, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. The once ominous shadows had receded, replaced by a calm stillness. The danger had finally passed.

Quickly, she retrieved her own wand and cast Full-Body Binds on all the Death Eaters, ensuring none of them would stir.

Only then did she allow herself to look around the room, her eyes landing on the slightly ajar closet door. A small face peeked out—Neville.

His wide, terrified eyes locked onto hers, and he clutched his stuffed toy tightly to his chest.

Augusta's heart broke at the sight. She hurried over, dropping to her knees in front of him, her arms opening wide.

"Come here, my love," she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.

Neville hesitated only a moment before tumbling into her. Augusta held Neville tightly, her arms wrapped protectively around his small, trembling body. He buried his face in her shoulder, clutching his stuffed dragon with all the strength his little arms could muster. She rocked him gently, whispering soothing words, though she knew they could never undo the terror he had witnessed tonight. His body shook in her embrace, the trauma seeping into every tear he shed. He was so small, just shy of four years old, yet the weight of what had happened would forever be etched into his soul.

"I've got you, my love," Augusta whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse rasp. "You're safe now." But deep down, she knew those words felt hollow. There would be no true safety after tonight, no return to the innocence he had once known.

Just as she was regaining her breath, the distinct, sharp "pops" of Apparition echoed from the front yard. Help had arrived—but it was too late. Far too late. Augusta's heart clenched painfully as she heard the hurried footsteps approaching, but she knew nothing could change the horror that had already unfolded within these walls. Frank and Alice... they hadn't been saved.

She pressed her lips to Neville's forehead, holding him close as the door creaked open. Alastor Moody's voice called from the entrance, rough and filled with concern, but Augusta didn't move. Her focus remained on the fragile boy in her arms, knowing they would face the aftermath together. There would be no more time for waiting. The world as they knew it had been shattered.

[startledstoat]

I'd say I did nothing productive today but I think the five hours I spent drawing up an organized version of the Black family tree that branches off and includes the Potter, weasleys, longbottoms, love goods, etc, was very productive of me

[askellx]

My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that? 

But here’s the magic:  they don’t have to have to wait for it. they already are m a g i c and l o v e.

LONGBOTTOM SIBILINGS — charlie f. longbottom & madeline a. longbottom  — { @homenum-revelio-rpg } 

[fairyfortescue]

in heaven.

James: well, who could‘ve known safe sex could have saved our lives?

Lily: James! inappropriate!

James: but it’s true though

James: Voldemort would‘ve just killed the Longbottoms instead

Lily:

Lily: VERY inappropriate!!

[oliverfrawgy]

Am I the only one who finds it weird that no one knew what happened to the longbottoms?

They were prominent members of the pureblood society and the order of the Phoenix. They defied Voldemort thrice. And yet, no one questioned that they suddenly dissapeared and their son was sent to live with his grandmother? It's not like they were believed to be dead either coz no one ever treated Neville like an orphan. They were just never mentioned before the ootp incident. People just forgot they existed.

I know that Neville didn't want people to know but he had been a baby and Augusta was proud of their bravery and them being so dedicated to a good cause, she wouldn't have tried to hide it. Even if they tried to hush it up, were people really so smitten by james and lily potter that no one even noticed?

Alternative solution: people did know and some even talked to Neville about it but harry was the one who never noticed (though it seems very unlikely as Neville was usually just by himself)

[asktheheirofslytherin]

Are you proud of what Bella did to the Longbottoms?

Absolutely. 

[isidar-mithrim]

Letters from Hogwarts – Neville

Happy 40th birthday, Neville! (Even if not in my time zone anymore, and even if this story is about your eleventh one ^^’)

___________________________________

Summary: For more than a thousand years, every summer, in the United Kingdom, the lives of a lucky cluster of eleven years old are radically changed.

These are the stories of four of them.

The first is that of a boy who lived for too long in the belief that he wasn’t a wizard.

{First installment of the “Letter from Hogwarts” series}

{Thanks to @sazzy-hp-dw for the betaing and to Hilda for her precious suggestions!}

{‘Letters from Hogwarts’ on tumblr: Gus, Remus and Hermione; on Ao3: Neville, Gus, Remus and Hermione}

___________________________________

Of Malus, hugs, and toads

He was in the garden pruning his Malus Domestica, the only tree his gran had been willing to purchase when he had dared to ask for an Abyssinian Shrivelfig. Most people just called it an apple tree, but thinking of it with its proper name gave Neville the illusion it was some kind of exotic, magical plant, the kind Great-uncle Algie always told him about after his trips around the world.

Neville was carefully trimming a low branch when a eagle owl glided towards him, dropped a letter upon his head and flew away.

The missive slid to the ground, and Neville stared at it with a hammering heart. Even from standing, he could read his name written in emerald green ink.

He kneeled on the fresh earth and let the trimmers fall with a clang, grabbing the letter with trembling hands without even pulling off his protective gloves.

His eyes wandered again over his name to make sure it was really addressed to him. Blood pulsed in his ears while he hesitantly turned the thick, yellowish envelope over, and seeing the Hogwarts symbol embossed in the wax seal made his heart thunder even more.

He tried to open it, but between the thrilling tension and his dragonhide gloves, it proved to be a task harder than he had anticipated. Eventually, he had to lay it down and remove his gloves, so that he could finally break the wax.

He pulled out the sheet of parchment and began reading.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Longbottom,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Neville stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, looking at the words without being able to actually read them. Fat tears dropped onto the parchment, and the sentence he thought he would never see pounded forcefully into his mind.  

Mr. Longbottom, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts.

He walked into the house with unsteady steps, the letter in one hand and the envelope in the other.

His gran was sitting on the couch, so absorbed in a book that she didn’t hear him coming.

Neville took a step forward. “Gran?” he called, his voice low and hesitant.

She jerked towards him, her eyes roaming upon his figure and taking in with a scowl the muddy stains on his trousers and his puffy eyes.

“What have you done, this time?” she said with exasperation, standing up with an agility that never ceased to impress him.

He merely raised his arm, offering her the crumpled parchment.

She snatched the letter from his hand and began to read, her eyes growing wider and wider, and Neville could almost swear they were a bit glassy when she raised her head and looked at him, as astonished as he had ever seen her.

“You’re going to Hogwarts,” she murmured, and then she did something she had never done before, and being wrapped in his gran’s lean, strong arms felt almost as good as being admitted to Hogwarts.

“Well, this calls for some celebration,” she said eventually with a brisk tone, patting awkwardly on his shoulder. “I reckon we can invite some people round for tea the next Monday, for your birthday.”

Neville nodded, not trusting his ability to speak. It didn’t happen often that the Longbottom family gathered in his honour.

“Perfect. You’d better send an owl to Professor McGonagall right away, before you forget.”

*

The week preceding Neville’s birthday flew by in the blink of an eye, the thrill of being admitted to Hogwarts – and the implication that he must be a wizard, after all – making him as happy as he had ever felt.

When the day finally arrived, Neville was practically bouncing off the walls.

The guests were mostly of his gran’s age, but he was used to that, and they all spent a lovely afternoon in the summer warmth of their garden. Neville hadn’t heard so many compliments and encouragements all at once since the time that he had bounced down the street after his great-uncle had dropped him out of the window, and he loved being the center of attention for something good, for once. It was such an amazing feeling that not even Madam Marchbanks’ lecture about how much he would have to study to pass his O.W.L.s could put him off.

Finally, after an exquisite Victoria sponge, it was time to open the gifts, and if possible the afternoon took an even sweeter turn. Neville received Chocolate Wands and Cauldrons from Honeyduckes, a bottle of Invisible Ink, a brand new set of Gobstones, a deck of Self-Shuffling playing cards and much more, but the greatest gift was undoubtedly the one he received from his enthusiastic Uncle Algie.

“A toad!” exclaimed Neville with glee after opening the box.

“To keep you company at Hogwarts,” said his uncle, clapping him on the shoulder like a man. “It’ll do you good to take care of him.”

“I’ll call him Trevor,” decided Neville, trying to take his first ever pet in his hands.

They spent the following half hour looking for the toad.

After even Great-Uncle Algie and Aunt Enid had said goodbye, only Neville and his gran were left, and he felt like part of his happiness had walked away alongside their guests.

To keep his mind busy he decided to tidy up the garden, but he had barely started to collect the plates when he toppled the jug of pumpkin juice, spilling it all over the tablecloth.

“You should go to bed, before you do any more damage,” said his gran sharply. “I’ll took care of that.”

Her words stung, but Neville didn’t dare contradict her. He walked towards the doorway, feeling a bit sad, and her deep sigh did nothing to improve his dampened mood.

“Wait.”

He froze, then turned slowly toward his gran, not sure of what to expect.

“Come with me,” she said with a tone that sounded grave rather than stern.

Neville followed her to the master bedroom, but when she went inside he lingered at the door, knowing he wasn’t allowed there until told otherwise.

“What are you waiting for?” barked his gran with impatience.

Neville hurried in, still wondering what was happening exactly. Was she going to lecture him about all the things he mustn’t do at Hogwarts? Was she let down by something he had done? Had she changed her mind about letting him go?

“Sit, Neville,” she said stiffly, gesturing to the bed. “I have to give you your gift.”

His jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe his ears. “My… my gift?” he babbled, incredulous. “I thought… the party… and… and all the stuff for Hogwarts I’ll have to buy…”

His gran looked at him with piercing eyes, and Neville was about to lower his gaze when she offered him the shadow of a smile and opened the last drawer of her dresser.

She took out a slim box, roughly a dozen inches long, and put it gently on the dresser, lifting the black lid with both hands.

Neville was glad he hadn’t sat down, because he just had to bow his head a little to peer inside.

A beautiful wand lay at the bottom of the box, its wood rich brown and smooth.

“I’m sure your father would want you to have it.”

*

Neville twirled the wand between his hands for what felt like hours, before his eyelids finally became heavy. Only then did he open the first drawer of his bedside cabinet, and laid his father’s wand on top of a thick layer of empty Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum wrappers.