The patrons of the Leaky Cauldron, and even old Tom himself, stood out behind the pub to watch the firework display over their heads, in the air above Diagon Alley. Dedalus Diggle had been at it for several hours now, and had been ignoring halfhearted requests to desist from the Magical Law Enforcement for about as long. Every half-hour, under the explosions, an official could be faintly heard to declare, "Mr. Diggle, please come down from the roof." But with a smile on his face, he returned his gaze to the show above. Public disturbances aside, when else could all of Wizarding Britain celebrate as one? After all, it wasn't every day that You-Know-Who was defeated.

///

Far from the fireworks in London, the sky above Longbottom Manor was lit only by the waning moon. The grounds below were black as pitch, save for a soft flicker from the first floor window, where two shadows danced in the firelight.

In a sofa and armchair across from one another, the two women sat and shared a pot of tea. There was too much to say, so neither said a word.

Just after the third Refilling Charm, the flames in the grate turned from red to green. They swelled up, and then a man walked out, bent to avoid hitting his head on the mantel. He held a small child in one arm, wrapped in a blanket.

"So they're dead, then," said the shorter of the two women.

"I'm sorry, Augusta," said Albus Dumbledore.

"Don't be, they made their own choice," she said. "Give the boy to Fenny, I had her bring down Franklin's crib from the attic."

Dumbledore removed the Bubble-Head Charm from the baby, which he had placed to keep out the sooty air of the fireplace, and handed him to the house-elf that had appeared when her name had been spoken.

The other witch sat up in her chair to get a better look at the baby. "Is that-?"

"Indeed, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."

"So then it's true? You-Know-Who is gone?" she said.

Augusta scoffed. "A Longbottom never did anything by half. He's gone, Minnie."

"I sincerely hope that to be the case," said Dumbledore. "I personally am looking forward to once again reading about knitting patterns and Quidditch scores in the Prophet."

"Tea, Albus?" asked Augusta. "If you can spare the time, of course."

"Certainly," he said. "As a matter of fact, Minister Bagnold wanted a chat, but I am in no hurry." He took out his wand to conjure a chair, but Minerva moved to the open space on the sofa with Augusta Longbottom. Smiling, he sat and poured a cup of tea, then pulled a yellow candy from his pocket and popped it into the cup, stirring and prodding it with his wand as it quickly dissolved.

"Is anything left of the house?" Augusta asked.

"Yes, and the wards are still intact, so please go over whenever it suits you to retrieve any personal effects."

A nod of ascent from Augusta signalled another long period of silence. Dumbledore sipped his tea, seemingly contemplating the painting of a sodden cat caught in a rainstorm that hung across the parlour.

"Well, I'll just go and check in on the little hero before bed," said Augusta, setting down her cup and pushing herself onto her feet. "Feel free to finish your tea, and you know where the Floo is... good night, Albus, Minnie." And she went upstairs. Minerva fixed Dumbledore with a stern look.

"How? How was You-Know-Who bested by that boy? How on Earth did he survive?"

"Perhaps it is, as Augusta suggests, the indomitable spirit of the Longbottom family. We can only guess," said Dumbledore, setting down his teacup and standing to leave. "We may never know."

She sighed. "Are you going to join the celebrations?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid," he said, waving his hand to spark the dying embers in the grate. "It seems that even when I call impromptu school holidays, I can't quite escape the many duties biting at my heels. It is very possible that the festivities will continue for at least another week, however, so there may be time yet." He tossed a handful of powder from his pocket into the flames. "Have fun, Minerva. Ministry for Magic!" Stepping into the grate, he was gone.

Minerva McGonagall knew Augusta Longbottom quite well. She had not gone upstairs to check on her grandson; the house-elf would make sure he slept peacefully. No, Augusta put on a hard face, but she had really gone upstairs for privacy, and Minerva knew her company couldn't truly help.

A second green flash briefly illuminated the grounds through the first floor window to signal Minerva's departure. As fireworks burst over Diagon Alley, as Dumbledore and the Minister discussed large-scale breaches of the Statute of Secrecy, as Augusta Longbottom wept and wept, people meeting all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying: "To Neville Longbottom – the boy who lived!"