Prologue
Friday, May 10th
Josie Longbottom watched as her daughter climbed into bed, clutching a tattered teddy bear. She bent down to place a kiss on her daughter Alice’s forehead, smoothing back the unruly bangs that kept obscuring her dainty face.
“Mummy, when will Daddy be home?”
“I’m not sure precious,” she replied, sitting on the corner of Alice’s bed, “you must remember he is away doing important work.”
“Saving the rain forest,” the child said sagely.
“Yes, Love, saving the rain forest. He’ll be home before you realize it.”
“But Mummy, I miss him so.”
“I know you do, I miss him too. You know what? I bet he misses us just as much.” She pulled her daughter into a hug. “I’ve got an idea; why don’t you draw him a picture, something that shows what we are doing while waiting for him to return, and I will post it to him. That way, when he misses us he will have a picture of us.”
“Oh Mummy, that is brilliant!”
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~
Wednesday, May 22rd
Josie was in the middle of her first cup of morning coffee, flipping through the channels on the television when an owl arrived. No matter how often Neville said that owl post was normal, she just couldn’t get into it; cell phones and computers were vastly more practical for instant communication. However, there were times when magical means were far superior to the non-magical, or rather Muggle, means.
Even after eight years of marriage, and a magical child, Josie had to sometimes pinch herself. The whole concept was just unreal. Yet, it was an integral part of her husband and daughter’s life. Sometimes she felt like a stranger in a strange land, for not only was she one of the few non-magical people in her circle of friends, she was also the only American. Still, no matter how advanced the magical community might be in some situations, there were just some things she refused to live without – electricity, a telephone, and television being the primary items, though a good old fashioned root beer float often preempted all three.
The owl fluttered its dark brown wings and thrust forward a leg, piercing her with what Josie assumed was a contemptuous look.
“Yes, yes,” she muttered, reaching towards the extending leg, “I know you want me to get that thing off you.”
“I find any droppings,” she threatened, fumbling to get the letter off its leg, “and I don’t care how useful you are, you’ll be supper.”
The owl ruffled it fathers, narrowly missing her hand with its beak.
“Hey now, no cause for that,” Josie exclaimed. “I suppose you want a treat before you leave too.” She eyed the bird warily, tossing it a piece of toast from the counter. “Well, all I have is toast at the moment, so you’ll have to be happy with it.” The owl caught the toast, and ruffled its feathers one last time before hopping out the window.
She picked up her coffee mug, and moved from the counter to the kitchen table, rubbing the parchment between her fingers as she went. She wondered who would be sending her an owl post. Neville, though he sometimes had difficultly with technology, used the cell phone she bought him more and more. The reception was spotty at times, especially considering he was half a world away, but it enabled them to hear each other’s voice. So the letter couldn’t possibly be from him.
Neville’s family had practically disowned him when they married in America; even the birth of Alice couldn’t shake them from the contempt they seemed to hold Josie in, so it was doubtful they would be writing to her. Apparently the purebred lot couldn’t stomach the fact that she was a Muggle; the fact that she was an American to boot, only drove the wedge in deeper.
Josie took a long drink of coffee, fingering the letter thoughtfully. Various scenarios filled her head, but she dismissed them all. Alice was too young for a Hogwarts letter, she hadn’t started the advertisement for a wizarding elementary school for those children whose parents couldn’t afford private tutors, though wizarding families were loathed to hire a Muggle, even if she was married to a “war hero,” and all of the friends she and Neville shared would floo over instead of sending an owl.
With a sigh, she opened it, knowing that she’d drive herself mad with if she didn’t.
Josie never felt the scalding coffee splashing against her skin as the mug dropped to the ground and shattered; never felt the shards of glass piercing her palm as she collapsed on the ground in a heap of shock.
Mrs. Neville Longbottom
Rose Cottage
12 Salisbury Road
Abbotts Ann, Andover
England SP11 7NX
United Kingdom
Mrs. Neville Longbottom,
It is with deep regret that I inform you that your husband, Neville Fredrick Longbottom was killed in an unfortunate accident while scouting an uncharted area of the Amazon Basin, near the boarder of Peru.
Your husband died with valor, madam, selflessly risking his own life in the defense of an unarmed man as we were attacked by a Peruvian Vipertooth Dragon. It was an unfortunate and unforeseeable accident, considering that the Peruvian Vipertooth is often found in the mountainous regions of Peru and not the lower Amazonian Basin.
His entire service with Machiguenza Research Corporation has been one of honor and dedication. His death will leave a void.
I was privileged to call your husband friend, madam; he was what more men should endeavor to be. My sympathies are with you, and your family, though I know these words are a cold comfort. Mere words seem futile at this time; they cannot convey the anguish I know this letter brings, nor can it convey how much you husband will be missed by those of us who were fortunate enough to call him friend.
Respectfully Yours,
Ethan Russo
Lead Researcher
Machinguenza Research Corporation
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~
Thursday, May 30st
It rained the day of Neville’s funeral, dark rolling clouds and sweeping wind that seemed to be nature’s response to Josie’s anguished soul. Beside her, little Alice clutched at her hand, as if she were afraid that Josie too might disappear.
Though Josie hadn’t told her what had happened, Alice knew. In the week that followed, Alice hadn’t said a word; however, she refused to let Josie out of her sight, even at night. Alice would wrap her thin, trembling body around Josie, and refused to go to sleep unless Josie promised to stay. It was easier to agree than to argue, especially since Josie wasn’t all that keen to let Alice out of her sight.
The last week had gone in a blur of tears. There were so many arrangements that needed to be done, people to contact, and of course, Neville’s body to be transported.
Josie hadn’t really believed him dead until she saw his lifeless corpse. It was an irrational hope, that perhaps they had made a mistake, one she clung to even when she got the voice mail every time she dialed his cell phone. That hope was quashed when his body arrived, ready for the memorial ceremony.
Neville’s grandmother had wanted a traditional wizarding pyre, and Josie agreed, wanting to make peace with the woman who seemed such a shadow of her former self. Much to Josie's surprise, the ceremony seemed to be like any other memorial service, filled with loving friends and family to commemorate Neville.
Josie was so lost among the sea of faces paying respect to Neville that they all seemed to just blur together. Had it not been for the Weasleys and Hermione Granger, Josie would have gone mad. Molly Weasley, being a practical woman, held most condolence wishers at bay, knowing Josie was in no shape to deal with their sympathetic kindness.
Josie’s eyes misted as she watched her husband’s dear friend make his way through the throng of people. Alice burrowed herself into Josie’s side, her tear-stained face pressing against her breast. She ran a soothing hand down her daughter’s hair, wishing she could do more to ease Alice’s aching heart.
Ron stood up before the crowd, pushing his long shaggy red hair behind an ear as he surveyed the faces before him. His soft voice was captivating as he started the eulogy.
“I think Neville would be surprised if he saw so many people gathered here to mourn him. He was, after all, a quiet man. He liked the solitude of his green house. He liked to be one with nature, helping various plants take that step from seedling to glorious green. It wouldn’t occur to him that he was so popular; that he would, and will, be missed so much. Yet, the very fact that so many have gathered to celebrate his life says so much more about him, and his kindness, more than mere words can describe.
Neville did many of his good deeds by stealth, he never advertised the fact that he helped so many people with the research and plant conservation he was doing. He never talked about his numerous acts of kindness, yet, I believe almost everyone here today has been on the receiving end of that kindness. Neville was the type who would do anything for a friend in need; the type of man you want at your back when things go south. He was the type of man whose quiet words of appreciation meant more than the blusterous congratulations that many give, simply because you knew that they were heartfelt.
He loved children and they loved him. This shy man had no trouble conversing with a four year old; it was the adults who often stumped him. Yet, children loved him, and children are the best judges of character. Children might not be able to put names on words like honor and decency, but they understand kindness, and they can detect the truth; they knew that Neville was a good man.
Now there are some who would accuse Neville of being too plodding and too conservative. He wasn’t one to take overt chances or make quick decisions. Neville liked to weigh everything up carefully. However, once he gave his commitment, he gave it wholeheartedly. One of the most wonderful things about Neville was you also knew exactly where you stood with him.
Today many people mourn him; though I dare say his wife Josie and daughter Alice will miss him most of all. I hope, however, that they will take comfort in the fact that so many others will miss him as well, for many different reasons. While I am sure his family was aware how well respected he was, it must be gratifying to know how many others will genuinely miss Neville.
I will miss him greatly, because friends like Neville don’t happen often in a lifetime. We have been friends since our days at Hogwarts together, and while we went on to seek very different professions, our friendship maintained. Our friendship even survived his dating my sister, Ginny. Actually, he was more than a friend, he was a part of my family. When he married Josie in America, she too became apart of my family, and I was honored to be named Alice’s godfather when she arrived nearly a year later.
I know how much Neville adored his daughter, and it is such terrible pity that he will not have the chance to see her grow up. I think the day Alice was born was one of the happiest of his life. He was so nervous, but I knew how wonderful he would be. Unfortunately, there are a great many things Neville will never get to do, and the horrible fact is, we have to still do them, without him.
So I will say goodbye my friend, the world has lost a vital part of itself with your passing. We will hold you in our hearts and our memories.”
~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~oOo~~~
Chapter 1
A/N:
Yes, yes, I know I shouldn’t be starting yet another story when I haven’t finished my other two works in progress. I honestly had this plot idea on the back burner, because it gets too hard having more than one thing out there that isn’t completely finished, but this stupid thing would not leave me alone. Every time I tried to write something else, bits and pieces of this plot would crop up, so I’d file save it and thrust it into the story archive folder on my computer. However now, it is getting to the point where I’m writing whole scenes for this and nothing for anything else. As always I have to thank my beta for being so receptive to my insane ideas (and for not yelling at me when I handed her this instead of what she was expecting).
Litigation Disclaimer
None of the characters are mine, and neither are some portions of the plot, which were influenced by the movie The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. I will brush them off and put them away nicely when I am done playing with them.
Peruvian Vipertooth Dragon per Harry Potter Lexicon.
The Eulogy is pieces of different speeches given to love ones lost this last year.
Calendar dates are for the year 2013, if anyone is interested.
Machiguenza: An Ethnobotanical Study of Eastern Peru
Essentially, I have warped the very real Dr. Ethan Russo, a premiere neurological researcher studying various botanical species in Eastern Peru, near the Amazon Basin, to serve my purposes.
http://manu.montana.com/
Friday, May 10th
Josie Longbottom watched as her daughter climbed into bed, clutching a tattered teddy bear. She bent down to place a kiss on her daughter Alice’s forehead, smoothing back the unruly bangs that kept obscuring her dainty face.
“Mummy, when will Daddy be home?”
“I’m not sure precious,” she replied, sitting on the corner of Alice’s bed, “you must remember he is away doing important work.”
“Saving the rain forest,” the child said sagely.
“Yes, Love, saving the rain forest. He’ll be home before you realize it.”
“But Mummy, I miss him so.”
“I know you do, I miss him too. You know what? I bet he misses us just as much.” She pulled her daughter into a hug. “I’ve got an idea; why don’t you draw him a picture, something that shows what we are doing while waiting for him to return, and I will post it to him. That way, when he misses us he will have a picture of us.”
“Oh Mummy, that is brilliant!”
Wednesday, May 22rd
Josie was in the middle of her first cup of morning coffee, flipping through the channels on the television when an owl arrived. No matter how often Neville said that owl post was normal, she just couldn’t get into it; cell phones and computers were vastly more practical for instant communication. However, there were times when magical means were far superior to the non-magical, or rather Muggle, means.
Even after eight years of marriage, and a magical child, Josie had to sometimes pinch herself. The whole concept was just unreal. Yet, it was an integral part of her husband and daughter’s life. Sometimes she felt like a stranger in a strange land, for not only was she one of the few non-magical people in her circle of friends, she was also the only American. Still, no matter how advanced the magical community might be in some situations, there were just some things she refused to live without – electricity, a telephone, and television being the primary items, though a good old fashioned root beer float often preempted all three.
The owl fluttered its dark brown wings and thrust forward a leg, piercing her with what Josie assumed was a contemptuous look.
“Yes, yes,” she muttered, reaching towards the extending leg, “I know you want me to get that thing off you.”
“I find any droppings,” she threatened, fumbling to get the letter off its leg, “and I don’t care how useful you are, you’ll be supper.”
The owl ruffled it fathers, narrowly missing her hand with its beak.
“Hey now, no cause for that,” Josie exclaimed. “I suppose you want a treat before you leave too.” She eyed the bird warily, tossing it a piece of toast from the counter. “Well, all I have is toast at the moment, so you’ll have to be happy with it.” The owl caught the toast, and ruffled its feathers one last time before hopping out the window.
She picked up her coffee mug, and moved from the counter to the kitchen table, rubbing the parchment between her fingers as she went. She wondered who would be sending her an owl post. Neville, though he sometimes had difficultly with technology, used the cell phone she bought him more and more. The reception was spotty at times, especially considering he was half a world away, but it enabled them to hear each other’s voice. So the letter couldn’t possibly be from him.
Neville’s family had practically disowned him when they married in America; even the birth of Alice couldn’t shake them from the contempt they seemed to hold Josie in, so it was doubtful they would be writing to her. Apparently the purebred lot couldn’t stomach the fact that she was a Muggle; the fact that she was an American to boot, only drove the wedge in deeper.
Josie took a long drink of coffee, fingering the letter thoughtfully. Various scenarios filled her head, but she dismissed them all. Alice was too young for a Hogwarts letter, she hadn’t started the advertisement for a wizarding elementary school for those children whose parents couldn’t afford private tutors, though wizarding families were loathed to hire a Muggle, even if she was married to a “war hero,” and all of the friends she and Neville shared would floo over instead of sending an owl.
With a sigh, she opened it, knowing that she’d drive herself mad with if she didn’t.
Josie never felt the scalding coffee splashing against her skin as the mug dropped to the ground and shattered; never felt the shards of glass piercing her palm as she collapsed on the ground in a heap of shock.
Ethan Russo
Machinguenza Research Corporation
Av. Paseo de la Republica 10
Lima 1, Peru
Mrs. Neville Longbottom
Rose Cottage
12 Salisbury Road
Abbotts Ann, Andover
England SP11 7NX
United Kingdom
Mrs. Neville Longbottom,
It is with deep regret that I inform you that your husband, Neville Fredrick Longbottom was killed in an unfortunate accident while scouting an uncharted area of the Amazon Basin, near the boarder of Peru.
Your husband died with valor, madam, selflessly risking his own life in the defense of an unarmed man as we were attacked by a Peruvian Vipertooth Dragon. It was an unfortunate and unforeseeable accident, considering that the Peruvian Vipertooth is often found in the mountainous regions of Peru and not the lower Amazonian Basin.
His entire service with Machiguenza Research Corporation has been one of honor and dedication. His death will leave a void.
I was privileged to call your husband friend, madam; he was what more men should endeavor to be. My sympathies are with you, and your family, though I know these words are a cold comfort. Mere words seem futile at this time; they cannot convey the anguish I know this letter brings, nor can it convey how much you husband will be missed by those of us who were fortunate enough to call him friend.
Respectfully Yours,
Ethan Russo
Lead Researcher
Machinguenza Research Corporation
Thursday, May 30st
It rained the day of Neville’s funeral, dark rolling clouds and sweeping wind that seemed to be nature’s response to Josie’s anguished soul. Beside her, little Alice clutched at her hand, as if she were afraid that Josie too might disappear.
Though Josie hadn’t told her what had happened, Alice knew. In the week that followed, Alice hadn’t said a word; however, she refused to let Josie out of her sight, even at night. Alice would wrap her thin, trembling body around Josie, and refused to go to sleep unless Josie promised to stay. It was easier to agree than to argue, especially since Josie wasn’t all that keen to let Alice out of her sight.
The last week had gone in a blur of tears. There were so many arrangements that needed to be done, people to contact, and of course, Neville’s body to be transported.
Josie hadn’t really believed him dead until she saw his lifeless corpse. It was an irrational hope, that perhaps they had made a mistake, one she clung to even when she got the voice mail every time she dialed his cell phone. That hope was quashed when his body arrived, ready for the memorial ceremony.
Neville’s grandmother had wanted a traditional wizarding pyre, and Josie agreed, wanting to make peace with the woman who seemed such a shadow of her former self. Much to Josie's surprise, the ceremony seemed to be like any other memorial service, filled with loving friends and family to commemorate Neville.
Josie was so lost among the sea of faces paying respect to Neville that they all seemed to just blur together. Had it not been for the Weasleys and Hermione Granger, Josie would have gone mad. Molly Weasley, being a practical woman, held most condolence wishers at bay, knowing Josie was in no shape to deal with their sympathetic kindness.
Josie’s eyes misted as she watched her husband’s dear friend make his way through the throng of people. Alice burrowed herself into Josie’s side, her tear-stained face pressing against her breast. She ran a soothing hand down her daughter’s hair, wishing she could do more to ease Alice’s aching heart.
Ron stood up before the crowd, pushing his long shaggy red hair behind an ear as he surveyed the faces before him. His soft voice was captivating as he started the eulogy.
“I think Neville would be surprised if he saw so many people gathered here to mourn him. He was, after all, a quiet man. He liked the solitude of his green house. He liked to be one with nature, helping various plants take that step from seedling to glorious green. It wouldn’t occur to him that he was so popular; that he would, and will, be missed so much. Yet, the very fact that so many have gathered to celebrate his life says so much more about him, and his kindness, more than mere words can describe.
Neville did many of his good deeds by stealth, he never advertised the fact that he helped so many people with the research and plant conservation he was doing. He never talked about his numerous acts of kindness, yet, I believe almost everyone here today has been on the receiving end of that kindness. Neville was the type who would do anything for a friend in need; the type of man you want at your back when things go south. He was the type of man whose quiet words of appreciation meant more than the blusterous congratulations that many give, simply because you knew that they were heartfelt.
He loved children and they loved him. This shy man had no trouble conversing with a four year old; it was the adults who often stumped him. Yet, children loved him, and children are the best judges of character. Children might not be able to put names on words like honor and decency, but they understand kindness, and they can detect the truth; they knew that Neville was a good man.
Now there are some who would accuse Neville of being too plodding and too conservative. He wasn’t one to take overt chances or make quick decisions. Neville liked to weigh everything up carefully. However, once he gave his commitment, he gave it wholeheartedly. One of the most wonderful things about Neville was you also knew exactly where you stood with him.
Today many people mourn him; though I dare say his wife Josie and daughter Alice will miss him most of all. I hope, however, that they will take comfort in the fact that so many others will miss him as well, for many different reasons. While I am sure his family was aware how well respected he was, it must be gratifying to know how many others will genuinely miss Neville.
I will miss him greatly, because friends like Neville don’t happen often in a lifetime. We have been friends since our days at Hogwarts together, and while we went on to seek very different professions, our friendship maintained. Our friendship even survived his dating my sister, Ginny. Actually, he was more than a friend, he was a part of my family. When he married Josie in America, she too became apart of my family, and I was honored to be named Alice’s godfather when she arrived nearly a year later.
I know how much Neville adored his daughter, and it is such terrible pity that he will not have the chance to see her grow up. I think the day Alice was born was one of the happiest of his life. He was so nervous, but I knew how wonderful he would be. Unfortunately, there are a great many things Neville will never get to do, and the horrible fact is, we have to still do them, without him.
So I will say goodbye my friend, the world has lost a vital part of itself with your passing. We will hold you in our hearts and our memories.”
Chapter 1
A/N:
Yes, yes, I know I shouldn’t be starting yet another story when I haven’t finished my other two works in progress. I honestly had this plot idea on the back burner, because it gets too hard having more than one thing out there that isn’t completely finished, but this stupid thing would not leave me alone. Every time I tried to write something else, bits and pieces of this plot would crop up, so I’d file save it and thrust it into the story archive folder on my computer. However now, it is getting to the point where I’m writing whole scenes for this and nothing for anything else. As always I have to thank my beta for being so receptive to my insane ideas (and for not yelling at me when I handed her this instead of what she was expecting).
Litigation Disclaimer
None of the characters are mine, and neither are some portions of the plot, which were influenced by the movie The Ghost and Mrs. Muir. I will brush them off and put them away nicely when I am done playing with them.
Peruvian Vipertooth Dragon per Harry Potter Lexicon.
The Eulogy is pieces of different speeches given to love ones lost this last year.
Calendar dates are for the year 2013, if anyone is interested.
Machiguenza: An Ethnobotanical Study of Eastern Peru
Essentially, I have warped the very real Dr. Ethan Russo, a premiere neurological researcher studying various botanical species in Eastern Peru, near the Amazon Basin, to serve my purposes.
http://manu.montana.com/
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