Hi there,
this is the long promished chapter betaed by the frankly incredible (and with amazing eye to detail) CeNedraRiva! Thank you so much dear:)
Any mistake you'll find its mine:)

Chapter Twenty Three: Politics and Family

Dorea's pov

Dorea Potter allowed just the smallest of sighs as she finally saw the back of her most unpleasant nephew disappear into her Floo... She was tired; so very, very tired. However, her obligations for the day were far from over.

She returned to the kiosk and this time her hidden sigh was one of frustration… For while Auror Bones and his niece, as well as the Undersecretary with his son, had been happy enough for a chance to refresh themselves -and even her young guests had excused themselves for the time being (...or had the good breeding to pretend doing so...) that didn't mean a disappearance of all faces had occurred... Apparently being a close friend —or even family —sometimes transcended classic societal rules such as these…

Still, like it or not, at the end of things that was Neville! His otherwise deeply cherished rules tended to disappear if he felt strong enough about something...

...Unfortunately...

Harry had also refused to make himself scarce, choosing instead to give in to her daughter's pleas and take her flying. Dorea suspected that he indulged Annette so tonight only due to affection, but she appreciated his kind gesture all the same. Appreciative or not though, it didn't prevent her from gritting her teeth at his insane aerial antics.

Her motherly heart simply seized in the face of his crazy loops and deep dives, at his sheer accumulated velocity —one that should have been plain impossible, even for professional players. Yet, all those insane feats seemed to come to him utterly naturally and he executed them without any apparent planning or even effort...

(Quite frankly she wanted to scream!)

...However, as an experienced Quidditch player herself, she could recognise the absolute surety in his moves, together with the utter care and steadiness that he held her daughter in... It was apparent that Nettie wasn't in any danger —and all but impossible to miss Harry's sheer talent and his undeniable flying expertise. Consequently, Dorea held her tongue.

(...That didn't mean she wasn't going to fiercely scold him, for this —among other things! —the very moment she could get him alone...)

Neville, the utter shit, must have (hopefully) noticed the exact same things, for he had been watching their aerial antics from the very start with nary a protest - and was even now still observing them not unlike a real Quidditch game...

It was probably mighty unfair of her, but Dorea still wanted to strangle him.

However, for all her annoyance, she didn't actually hate her grumpy relative. She didn't even genuinely dislike him —most of the time —but she was hardly in a mood to deal with him. Still, responsibility was never ever something she shrank at, so she squared her shoulders to deal with it. Her daughter's sweet, and finally happy laugh, reaching her from so high in the sky, gave her the required strength to do so.

Thus reassured, she finally allowed Mr. Grumpy to notice her.

Neville always a gentleman -if nothing else- was hasty enough to stand up with her approach.

"How are you holding on, Dorea?" He asked her kindly. "You seem much better than the last time." His voice didn't hold but the barest edge.

(He didn't have Tom's natural grace to power games, but twenty-five years of added experience did make a difference —when he wanted to, at least.)

Dorea allowed herself a fully genuine smile.

"I'm much better, Nev, thank you. Things have changed somewhat since then, and actual hope for once indeed helps..." she countered gently his hidden point. Neville harrumphed to this but kept his opinion otherwise.

Peace descended, for a little bit... A small moment, of companionable silence —before the drawing of their intangible weapons...

"Why don't you come inside, old friend?" Dorea made the opening move on a soft, utterly polite note.

"My son is hardly as cautious as he should be, but even he has enough sense to avoid returning here. They must have probably already apparated inside..." she concluded, offering a comforting look.

Neville, the old prune, noisily cleared his throat to express his disapproval on any such actions, albeit still offering a small smile in return.

(Trouble.)

"Actually I have been waiting to speak with you, Dorea. So please, grant me the favour of sitting next to me..."

(Nor was he utterly devoid of social graces for all his typical gruffness.)

"...We have a great deal to discuss." he said in his gravelly voice, his tone explicitly conveying his meaning.

Dorea had been expecting as much but still, the confirmation of the incoming storm made her hands slightly tremble and her temples throb with a pervasive low-key ache. She simply wasn't ready yet for the dress-down to come, or to have to justify herself.

(...Really, she adored her son (and held a great affection for Meli) and was frankly ecstatic they were indeed going to marry, but she would have rather have that talk with the girl's father any time but now —or more preferably not at all…)

Nevertheless, she managed at least a wan smile as she took a seat beside him. Things were still so very uncertain, but her son wasn't going to lose his chance at love due to her own actions.

"Somehow, I expected that," she modulated her voice to show only light teasing. "Would you care for some mulled wine then, or one more cup of tea?" …She took one last shield behind courtesy.

Quite unsurprisingly, Neville looked unimpressed with her latest sly attempt to direct their talk, although he was kind enough that he didn't call her on it.

"Thank you, Dorea, but no. It's far too early for me for wine and I've had enough tea." He sent her a sharp look, indicating that he was done with pleasantries. Dorea nodded to him once, equally sharp.

A dry cough and he finally let loose with his complaints.

"You knew I wasn't comfortable with the match from the start... If there's something my time with the muggle world has taught me, for sure, it is how utterly unhealthy it is to marry cousin with cousin. I haven't been able to gather official proof —yet —but I would stake my life that this is the actual reason for the many squibs born over the last hundred years, instead the inclusions of muggle blood —that always existed to some degree, even if no one ever admits it." A pause.

"I counted it as one of Leonard's positive traits that he wouldn't bring to her such a shame." A pointed look, but Dorea regarded him back impassively.

(She would allow him his say —no matter how painful —but he would get absolutely nothing from her actually dignifying this.)

"That's why I wanted to marry her to someone both worthy of her, but also possessing somewhat fresher blood ties," he sighed.

"...I suppose it's for the best that Riddle had other ideas." From the acid-sour tone of his voice that last part still deeply smarted to him.

As for Dorea herself, her nails dug at her palms, but it was carefully hidden under the table. Outwardly she didn't bat an eye.

This wasn't just the usual Neville-rant, for all the heavy inclusion of his favourite topic, but a conscious attempt to unbalance her, hitting her at her most painful sore spots (..nothing that she hadn't heard before, though..). He was intimately aware of them after all... But, while she understood his rage —and suspected he wasn't all that wrong, regarding the heredity of some specific problems —part of her would have much preferred him to use some more consideration, or —at the very least —to be more respectful to her brother...

(He wasn't the one that wronged him after all)

"Nevertheless, you allowed the engagement and you are even here, today — why?" she questioned him, when he seemed at least momentarily done.

(Hopefully that direct inquiry will make him use his mind and give her a way to deal with him.)

Mr Gruffness himself huffed and puffed, to hide his softening expression.

"Did you think that I wouldn't, after everything? ...I may have certain reservations but I'm not blind... Melissa literally bloomed, due to Leonard, over the last couple years. She was again my happy little girl, dreaming once more of her future..." he sighed, his expression as close to indulgent as he ever allowed.

Dorea relaxed enough to offer a cautious smile.

It was far too soon. Nev's smile dropped, his expression darkening to something hard.

"...Then your stupid, stupid boy had to close off and desert her, reducing her dreams to ashes once again, and sending her back into that dark hopeless place... All to avoid facing the consequences of his actions —and just like your dear guest, not even daring to do it in person!" After his verbal explosion he closed his mouth, looking mulish.

(Obviously aggravated with himself and his very straightforward nature for losing control and airing out his grievances, instead of continuing with his underhanded insults, while maintaining the higher ground.

Not one for prearranged courses of talk was Neville!)

...She supposed she should be grateful about his transparent Gryffindor nature cutting the chase now instead of after an hour or so...

Still it was fairly apparent that no matter how willing he appeared to be to eventually forgive their misconduct and allow the wedding, he wasn't truthfully ready yet to let bygones be bygones.

Dorea, for her part, could hardly speak, nor even glare , for fear of losing that calm veneer she so painstakingly presented. (...For all that her own calculating nature took notice of everything, she wasn't made of stone!)

It was getting to be far too much for her... Her beloved husband has been a war prisoner for months already, crippled —and most likely, tortured —and with the very possibility of getting him back a frighteningly small one - and yet that Neville had dared to put her on task merely because of Melissa's feelings?

Worse, her only son —still a teenager —was going to fight in the battle, increasing the possibility of losing them both… and she couldn't deter him —nor should she —for so many reasons...

And Neville, the stupid, stupid man, knowing all those things had dared to insult her family, cast aspersions on her son, and compared him with Riddle!

Something of her actual, genuine feelings must have slipped through, for Neville concluded his point almost lamely, moderating the insult.

"...However unintentionally intended..."

Dorea still didn't speak, concerned she would sound unkind...

(and she didn't want that, she would rather cut Neville's tongue for his insults, than respond in kind and return it with an affront for his own rather sweet child)

This wasn't an easy situation, no, but if Melissa had broken into such despair —in a single week! —she was hardly worthy of her son, and nothing like as strong as Dorea believed her to be…Then again, her actions today spoke of a calm decisiveness, for all the demure facade.

(Leonard had chosen well!)

It appeared Neville had started to grow unnerved by her silence.

"Gods Dorea!" He sounded completely exasperated. "...Did you really think that this was about politics, or that I could ever put them before all of you, or even my very child's happiness?" A breath. "Is that the kind of monster you consider me to be?" His voice was again barely controlled.

Dorea wasn't that sure about his priorities, for all his angry protests, nevertheless she tried to appease him.

"Well, how was I to be certain? You sounded furious enough," she pointed out very sweetly.

(Still, whatever the other's inner demons —and they were a lot to get him snap like that —it seemed that this was going to be both far easier at some terms and just plain harder at others than her original expectations.)

But Neville also knew her far too well to fully trust her sweet, nonchalant tone.

"You really don't believe me, do you?" he questioned her, crossing his arms.

Cornered like that, Dorea had no choice but to speak without embellishments.

"Weren't you the man that repeatedly said that a person was nothing if he couldn't hold onto his principles, no matter what?" she asked him archly.

Even if she wanted to take him at face value she remembered all too well how inflexible he was with his principles, in contradistinction to people. She couldn't fully trust him.

However, he was family, and she owed him at least some uncoerced honesty. "...and politics always matter, at least to some extent... We'll be both liars if we'll deny it."

Neville looked ready if not to back down (far from it) then to at least acknowledge her point. But —maybe because of her last words —instead of folding, he faced her challenge head on.

"Merlin's beard, woman!" His voice was still relatively mild, but the look in his eyes suggested that had she been a man he would have hit her.

"...Charlus is as close to me as a brother —you and the children are part of my family… More so, he entrusted me with your safety. What kind of gentleman will dishonour such a covenant, no matter how unhappy by your own actions?" He said it like it was the simplest thing, but there was no question regarding his sincerity.

Dorea could manage only a small: "Oh!"

(Had she miscalculated so badly here?)

However, Neville had decided to air everything.

"...So yes, I'm unhappy that my daughter has set her heart on a cousin and won't change her mind over anything. I'm unhappy that she is willing to accept that boy as part of the family to keep your son, but mostly I'm utterly unhappy with you!" A ragged, controlling breath...

"...Curse and damnation, Dorea! You damn certainly already knew what you had planned when I treated your wounds and yet told me nothing!" Rage, pure rage!

"I wouldn't have expected full disclosure considering our disagreements, but even the smallest warning would have been appreciated..." A severe last look, full of disappointed anger.

Dorea couldn't help a frisson of ashamed guilt with this. While Neville had his own numerous, heavy faults, in this regard he was indeed plainly right.

Whatever his opinion of her, he had supported them in every way he could, even offering to share his home and take on that danger with them —he had actually insisted on this as a sign of solidarity. The absolutely least thing she owed him as an ally was a heads up that she had planned something that he wouldn't approve of.

"I'm really truly sorry about this, Nev," she admitted softly but genuinely enough. Neville, though, wasn't yet ready to hear it. He had one more thing to say...

"...But, no matter any of these grievances —or what it may cause in the future —I can't bear to see Melissa becoming another Kali... I can't do that to my child." His face and voice were utterly raw and wrenched, stripped of the artificial calmness, especially at the mention of his wife's unhappiness.

Suddenly Dorea didn't feel all that guilty anymore... her emotions shifted instead back to her previous deeply irritated state. Neville's hypocrisy , and that specific tender nickname , and all that it implied on top of his insults, needling her nearly beyond her enduring point.

(Her cousin, Callidora, certainly hadn't been given reasons to trust him - nor was trusted in return. Neither had become so dreadfully unhappy all by herself, that's for sure…)

Where her modest apology may have fallen on deaf ears, her indignant glare had a far more effective outcome. Neville's wary attention was once again firmly on her. Dorea continued with her apology in a slightly colder tone.

"The responsibility of this falls entirely on me, not Leonard... Ever since you told me about the impending battle I have been sitting at lit embers and the discovery of Harry's name at the tapestry came to me as a godsend." (and no, she wasn't ashamed of this, not one bit.)

Neville looked, if at all possible, filled with more suspicion.

"I take it that you have been negotiating with him for quite a while?" It was only a half question.

"Actually, no." For the first time, since she had sat at that table with Neville, Dorea could genuinely smile.

"Leonard had no idea what I wanted to ask, only that Harry's name had suddenly appeared on the tapestry and so consequently that I wanted to meet him…. He ended up talking to him alone and Harry —having been informed about the battle from another source —volunteered for it all by himself!"

(...and thus making Alphard and Minerva to volunteer as well and leaving her to worry for them as well (the other kids too to a point) not just her son and Harry, but even with this she couldn't bring herself to ask them to stop)

Even knowing the full circumstances (and that guilt must have played a certain part at Harry's decision) Dorea couldn't help but being grateful.

Miracle of miracles, Neville believed her. He snorted.

"Instead they ended up invading the Ministry and convincing Diggory to hasten the attack for New Year's Eve." Neville's tone was neutral although there was a bit of a laugh in his face.

"It's a good strategy." Dorea's tone was equally neutral.

"That it is a very good strategy indeed!" Any laugh disappeared from his face. "But Nestor Moody ended up at the hospital, almost dying at my hands. I don't believe it to be much of a coincidence."

"Neville..." Dorea felt the throbbing in her head return with a vengeance.
She raised a placating hand.

"Peace, Dorea," Neville was now carefully examining her face, as if sensing that something was wrong. "I found the dispersing traces of the Imperious myself, I don't really blame them..." —and much more wryly, "...well except for the part that it nearly proved fatal."

Dorea nodded at this, feeling honestly bad about it. However, since Mr Moody was expected to have a full recovery, she couldn't bring herself to genuinely regret it.

"Do you trust them, Dorea?" Neville was now earnest.
"...What did you promise them?"

Dorea's smile returned.

"I do, and I promised nothing —since they asked for nothing." she said, Nev's pure, genuine concern warming her a little bit towards him.

It threw Neville on a loop.
"Nothing? What do you mean nothing?"

Dorea couldn't help but smile a little, Neville's bewilderment was just delicious.

"What I've said... They'd set things in motion even before meeting me for the first time." (Actually that part baffled even her.)

But Neville looked now downright concerned, not just bewildered.

"But that won't stop you been indebted to them... If they manage to bring Charlus back they could ask you for absolutely anything!"

Dorea could only keep smiling serenely at this.

"I don't believe they are waiting for this, but if they manage to bring Charlus back there is hardly anything in my power to give that I would deny them either."

Neville just gaped at her. Dorea regarded him back wryly.

"...Everything he can ask he could have demanded it a long time ago, ever since he first saved Leonard's life... He could even claim the Lordship, on the grounds of a Mage's power and the Wizengamot could and would have done nothing but recognise him possessing the right… Charlus would have been forced to either step down or acknowledge him —before our son —as his heir," she said, nearly relishing the stunned look at Nev's face.

"Maybe he didn't knew he could demand it..." Neville sounded nigh desperate.

"In all probability he didn't, judging by his general ignorance," he continued tartly. That conclusion seemed to ease and satisfy him a great deal.

"Maybe he won't dare risk his insurrectionary public image by claiming the title..." he continued his thought process.

"...Perhaps he just plans to quietly settle things in the monetary fashion, certainly the entailed part of the Potter fortune is just a fraction of the whole. Charlus —and his father before him —gained far more with their work than they ever inherited..."

Finally he regarded her once again with a smile.
Dorea's corresponding one was more of pity (and of slight irritation).

"Mmm...Then he must be getting along extremely well with the Goblins, he never asked any such information from us," she allowed just the tiniest edge.

"Dorea!" Neville sounded embarrassed but hardly ashamed enough.

Dorea regarded him sharply.

"He may not know the specific law, however there is no question that Leonard owes him his life and he damn certainly already knew that he's a Potter." She watched with hidden satisfaction the forming impact the comment left, then continued, "...and I would have happily given him everything, down to the last knut, if he had asked for it as payment..." she had no intention to hold back her punches.

Now Neville resembled very much a fish.
"But...but...but, this is your son's —your children's —" he post-hasty corrected, " —very inheritance, their future?" He seemed very aggravated.

Dorea's look was very grim.

"...Fortunes and inheritances can be rebuilt again and again —especially to a mind like my Charlus' —but no magic, save the abominable, can bring back the dead..." Another grim look, daring him to contradict her.

Neville looked like the mere mention of such magics sickened him to his core, but he didn't dare speak. Dorea continued with quiet confidence.

"...I would have paid almost any price to save him —or protect my children..." she let that one sink, to Neville's utter horror. " —and the monetary option was the easiest one by far. ...Had Harry asked for every single thing owed by us, to bring Charlus back alive, I would have given it with nary a regret. However —as I previously said —he asked not a knut... On the contrary, he has done nothing but help us —all while asking for nothing."

Neville looked her sideways.
Are you sure he doesn't want to trick you into giving even more? Without asking, even?"

Dorea had to blink with such a sly remark coming from Neville, from all people.

"Yes, Nev. I'm sure," she replied with some asperity. "...I can recognise a deceiver and Harry is definitely not one - at least not about our family. He is family."

{There was no mistaking with those so expressive eyes... A skilled manipulator, like Tom, could present sympathy, liking, attention, even understanding to those he wanted to affect, but could never reach the depth, range, or sheer complexity of Harry's feelings.

Nor was there anything even remotely fake about Harry's guilt. Every single time he looked towards Leonard (she hadn't gotten the whole story until she pressured, but she had known enough with a mere look), his acute vulnerability and longing (even past hurt) for a family, or his gradual (near grudging) growing fondness —love even —for every single one of them and his fierce protectiveness towards the family were also unmistakable.

Add to this that it wasn't just words and expressive eyes but concrete action and Dorea felt that she could trust her family at his hands. Harry was fast becoming not merely a very close chosen ally and an accepted part of her extended family but (inappropriately fast as it may sound) nearly a second son to her.}

Neville was stunned by her declaration and appeared to examine her face with far more intensity than all their previous talk combined.
Finally he seemed to get it.

"You really trust him!" He sounded somewhere between shock and awe.

Dorea relaxed only the barest bit.
"I do. As I said, he's family."

Her words seemed to have hit Neville like a punch, he paled.

"I understand, Dorea," he sounded choked. "Believe me, I do... But while this boy may be a Potter, or a Longbottom and a Black, loyalty to family or plain gratitude shouldn't be the only things of consideration here …You called him a Mage for Merlin's sake and we both know what it truly stands up for!"

But Dorea had long stopped hearing him, the only things echoing in her ears were the surnames... They were far too specific to be insignificant.

"What did you called him?" It was a near whisper.

"Dorea?" Neville sounded at a near panic.

"What do you know, Nev?" She was at a point that if Neville didn't start talking she was going to render him from limb to limb.

"I know absolutely nothing..." Her wand was out, Dorea hadn't even felt drawing it.

"I've just heard some rumours... very peculiar ones…" his tone to this was indeed very peculiar, "...from very close sources to the Department of Mysteries…" a long pause. "...It's about a time traveler... " Neville's eyes were telling her even more.

Dorea felt her breath getting caught in her throat, her wand dropped at the table.

"And...?" Her voice was barely steady and she held herself still with all she had. 'Neville couldn't be telling her what she thought she had heard.'

Neville sighed.
"Albus told me it was all nonsense, but he asked me to drop it.-"

Dorea gasped for breath, for if Albus bloody Dumbledore had dared to do that it wasn't just a vague mere suspicion anymore but actual fact…

'Still, wouldn't have been smarter of him to let things rest, or maybe appease Nev without ordering him away? That didn't sound like Albus Dumbledore to her…'

But, honestly speaking, could he really afford not to do it?

Neville was honest to a fault and utterly devoted to the Light but family meant the world to him… especially the link she suspected ...Had he had met Harry before, with that knowledge, he would have accepted and included him in his family for all his disapproval of his magic - or friendships…

Dumbledore would have been forced to free him from his oaths, as those were the supposed values of his preaching…

Breath calmed, Dorea regarded Neville once again.

"Thank you for telling me, Nev, I really appreciate this!" She could hardly contain her happiness and gratitude.

Neville looked very embarrassed but made no attempt to deny her conclusions.
"Don't thank me, Dorea, it was hardly my intention, it just slipped through."

But Dorea just smiled at this, she doubted it was just a slip. Some part of Neville wanted her to know, wanted Harry to be among acknowledged family, even if he could never admit this even to himself…

"I appreciate it anyway…" a small pause, "...and you don't have to worry so about Harry. For all his power, he's a good kid. Passionate and idealistic indeed, but of a good sort, mind and heart. I'll talk to him, but I trust him anyway."

Neville looked at her.

"Say that your Harry is indeed a good kid, what about Riddle? ...You can hardly trust that one."

Dorea relaxed.

"I trust him up to a certain point, he's not selfless like Harry —far from it, truly —but I believe he means the family well if only as a favour to him. Harry really matters to Tom..." And she expected him any day now to demand a payment...

...But it was going to be something bearable, out of said affection, not literally their souls as it would have been otherwise.

Neville snorted out his laughter.

"Matters, that's a good way to put it, Dori. ...When your Harry put his foot in his mouth and managed to insult the entire assembly at once —to say nothing about the entire Wizarding world —your dear guest had been ready to cut down the first —and all consequent others —that would dare pay back the insult with violence... I would say that it's bloody more than just that!"

Dorea took notice that the laughter had actually reached his eyes and so allowed a corresponding smirk. Neville was the last person to look down to them due to their bond.

"They are indeed very devoted to each other, and I must admit that I didn't expect such intensity, or genuine feelings..." Tom's intense rage at Harry risking his life to create the amulets had been very telling, if scary at the time.

"I found myself pleasantly surprised with that boy," she allowed cautiously.

Neville snorted once again but while it sounded far less amused Dorea was relieved to not hear dismissal in his tone.

"Indeed, he's not the complete monster I expected him, at least to that..." he scratched the back of his head.

"Albus told me, after the incident, that he had been born out a love potion and so incapable of love and it had made sense to me at the time… What kind of boy at his right mind wouldn't have loved my sweet, pretty girl? ...But I don't believe he had been rightly informed, I wouldn't say young Tom doesn't love, rather about the opposite!"

Dorea found herself muffling a laugh —so as not to scream in outrage.

(That was so Neville, to consider that any boy who wouldn't fall for his daughter must have something very wrong with him!
But, beyond the ridiculousness of this, how could Albus Dumbledore know such a personal detail for one of his students (spout a magical theory as proven fact) and share said detail at will?)

Dorea didn't have words to express the wrongness!

But Neville, actually voicing this, at a point slightly past his anger, could finally start seeing it as well… and winching.

"Having seen his maternal uncle I doubt that his mother could have found a husband otherwise," he tried to excuse it, Dorea glared daggers.

"...But still, it's hardly the kindest or even the most professional thing he could have told me... I suppose he wanted to cheer me up," he didn't sound entirely convinced.

Or to take you even more under his influence. Still Dorea didn't share that point out loud. Neville had started thinking, it was going to occur to him given time...

For now though dear Neville was apparently far too embarrassed to go into such overtly critical ventures...

"But why the blessed boy didn't find a way to inform me that girls didn't do it for him, instead of treating my little Mel like a cad?" He sounded like a bear with a thorn to his paw.

It was Dorea's turn to snort with the way he decided to deal with said guilt.

"Not to defend him or anything, it was hardly a gentleman's move. ...But still, he was all but fourteen at the time, hardly due the same expectations as to an adult," a pause, giving Nev a moment to acknowledge this.

Then she looked him in the eye.

"But no, he couldn't. It would have been an even worse political suicide in his eyes. Only family and very few friends knows that you are sympathetic to such inclinations, or the reason why… Your changed career and austere reputation rather suggests the opposite." She let it sink.

Just as she expected Nev took it rather poorly.

"Idiots! He explained, (together with a host of other expletives that Dorea very gracefully pretended not to have heard) then he glared at her. "...Don't tell me that this utter nonsense of a rumour -of rejecting his advances- still makes the rounds, even after his death?" He sounded baffled - and hurt.

"Why can't people simply accept that a homosexual - never mind Thes - couldn't mentor a recruit without sleeping with him, much less become an actual friend, is that too much for their tiny brains?"

Dorea felt a small pang of regret from inducing this...
"I'm afraid so, Nev," ...but it was well worthy.

A vein looked ready to pop at Neville's temple.

"Godric's short beard, you can't be serious! Thes died in the line of duty, dueling Grindelwald, and that's the way they chose to remember him?" He looked a mere step before demanding names, to ruin their lives...

A small shudder of apprehension passed between Dorea's shoulder blades, with his poisonous vehemence, but the die had already been cast.

"I don't believe they truly meant it as an insult towards Auror Scamander..." she started softly, "...more about a subtle digging towards your perceived disapproval of him …" a raised eyebrow.

Neville gapped like a fish.

"My perceived disapproval of Thes? How in Merlin's sagging —" cough, cough, " —everything they came up with that? He's —was —my daughter's godfather for Godric's sake!"

Dorea sighed.

"Exactly, your daughter's, not your son's —not your firstborn. ...It could have very easily pass as a mere obligation." Neville glared daggers and Dorea sighed once again.

"Neville, think about back then, as an outsider… you were a very promising cadet, without a single complaint against you, nothing bad regarding your home, and yet you chose to drop out midcourse. To disappear from the public eye for about five years and return on a completely different track. Why would you do such a thing if everything was fine and you had no problems with your mentor?" A challenging look.

Neville still looked stubborn.
"It was a personal choice. I still don't understand why it's still a gossip matter, much less involving Thes.-"

Dorea shook her head with fond resignation.
"You don't understand? Nev, you quite literally broke the mold back to the day!" Neville allowed a snort but Dorea wasn't joking.

"Think about it, Nev, without blinders... Nearly every boy and a great number of girls dreams about the prestige, if not the actual job, of a field Auror - even my Charlus briefly thought about applying, back then - and you were the apprentice of the Head Auror himself...That decision still seems utterly incomprehensible to everyone not knowing you on a personal level..."

Her words seemed to have an effect. The anger was still plainly there, but the puzzlement had given way to contempt.

"That's because they are morons and utterly worthless as investigators… I would have been a mediocre auror, while I'm anything but as a field healer. Thes saw that and gave me the opportunity to pursue it… Everything that I've become is due to him, everything that I have I owe it to him... Everything... Dorea!" his voice broke.

Then his face took a far more chilling visage.
"Anyone with half a brain could have realised it with the barest perusal —" a snort, expelling a great deal of his rage.

" —and those cretins call themselves aurors!"

Dorea had been counting on one such reaction (though she didn't expect it that big) but it didn't stop her from genuinely sympathising with her friend.

"You know people, Nev, and you said it yourself —morons —it's far, far easier to spread a scandalous or titillating story than to accept that there's nothing to tell, much less actually bother to look under the surface," she put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

The look Neville sent her was both inquisitive and chiding... he had already gathered that even if the past was still worthy of gossip the reason she had mentioned it here and now was to make him understand…

Thankfully he didn't seem utterly enraged towards her. She sent him a very apologetic glance all the same.

"...Alright, Dori," he told her, after a tired sigh, "...I get where you are coming from, but he could have talked to Melissa, at any given time before she made her move he could have told her…" he challenged her point.

Dorea was unimpressed.

"Nev, you know I love Melissa dearly, but she's a Gryffindor for a reason…. Back then the dear girl tended to wear every single emotion at her sleeve and she had quite the crush on Tom..."

"Say no more of this, Dorea…..." Neville desperately tried to sound humorous instead of exhausted, then he opened his mouth, closing it after, clearly intending to speak but changing his mind. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Finally, as the continuation of this started bothering even her, Neville coughed drily.

"I can see where you are going with this, Dorea, but even if I conceded the point, that I judged young Mr Riddle far too fast and far too harshly, it's still not going to change the course of things in any way... For I have given my word and when a Longbottom gives his word its for life."

Dorea wasn't particularly surprised with this, nor needed to contest it.
"I expected as much, Nev," a small pause. "Where did you meet Tom's maternal uncle? Was he as bad as I have heard the Gaunts to be?"

Neville made a face at her.

"Worse, the man looked like a misshapen, retarded giant —without the size —almost dressed in skins and hardly ever bothering —or able —to speak like a civilised person, hissing instead in parseltongue..."

Dorea couldn't contain her disgust as well, the thought of Slytherin's noble line reduced to this not sitting well at all to her.

Neville half glared at her.
"But even that half-animal deserved actual justice," he crossed his arms.

Dorea merely inclined her head a fraction, knowing better than showing any definite reaction before hearing everything.

Neville looked reassured enough to start his tale.

"I've met Morfin Gaunt more than two years ago at a Ministry cell. I was assigned to evaluate his mental state before his trial for the attempted murder and umpteenth breaking of The Statute, by terrorism —to the point of forcing them to permanently flee their home —of the muggle family living near his shack… I, of course, asked to be excused when the name Riddle came into discussion, but Moody wouldn't hear it, especially since I wouldn't disclose the insult." He shrugged, looking very uncomfortable and Dorea nodded her understanding.

"Anyway," Neville had relaxed with her acceptance, "Gaunt was a mess, every comprehensible word out his mouth were curses and threats for the despicable muggle that had dared taken his sister away from him ."

Dorea made a disgusted face, cousin marrying cousin happened all the time but actual sibling incest went a bit too much for her...

Neville responded with a sardonic smile and continued.

" He was more than just a tad obsessive and utterly repulsive in his regret that the intended victims had gotten away alive but, for all of it and his numerous on-record attacks against them, he couldn't recall nor admit the latest case…" he paused, and Dorea obligingly filed a glass with water for him.

"I must admit that I found myself curious with the situation as I didn't find Morfin smart enough to actually think, much less act, with such subterfuge and eventually believed him enough for an examination..." he told her after he had his fill.

"Gaunt's mind was pure chaos, plainly a madman's, but still there were still some tiny blank patches that could betray tampering but even those were far too small to be taken as proof purely by themselves..." Then he noticed that he had her breathless attention and offered her a reserved smile.

Dorea returned it and waited patiently for the end of the story, even though she could guess at this point. Neville took again his tale.

"I requested the use of a remembrall, to fully clarify matters... Lord Caius Malfoy —with the clear support of your elder brother —refused me, on the grounds that the numerous previous attacks were proof enough just by themselves. Moody backed them up and the poor bastard ended at Azkaban, for threatening The Statute." Now he was openly glaring.

"Tell me, Dorea, don't you find it curious that all those auspicious gentlemen were so torn over an instantly repairable bauble?" The sarcasm was thick enough to be cut by a knife.

But Dorea was ready.

"I do indeed, but I'm even more surprised —if it's indeed Tom's work —with him leaving this family —that deserted him before he was even born —very much alive."

It was plainly apparent that her words had shocked Neville, deeply.

"It's not really certain that he actually left them alive." Neville regained his control with a glower. "...From what I managed to gather they closed their mansion and boarded a ship at Dover. After that I've lost track of them..."

"Sounds like too much wasted effort," Dorea countered him drily. Neville glared.

(...Still, beyond the muggles themselves, something didn't seem to fit the whole thing…)

"The Ministry asked you to search for them at that extend?" She eyed Neville.

Neville was left again looking very uncomfortable.
"Not the Ministry..." 'Albus,' he didn't say.

Dorea couldn't help but smile. It seemed to infuriate Neville.
"Your boy, Harry, surely knew about this." He pointed his finger toward her. She allowed a languid shrug.

"Most probably, it would have been far easier for Tom to kill them then and there and leave Gaunt to deal with the bodies..."

Neville seemed firstly shocked and then so enraged he couldn't even speak.

"It doesn't disturb you?" Neville managed at least. "That it's so possible —to not say plausible —that he actually did this?"

Dorea considered it. Tom as a whole was definitely not someone to be trifled with she could see this in his every word and action, guarded though he was with her. However the specific incident seemed almost tame, compared to the devastation she had seen him bring in battle. (...Unless he had arranged a far more thorough vengeance —which went a tad more disturbing than she had pegged him for —and she wasn't going to voice this possibility, validating Neville's fears, not when both of them were dealing in conjecture…)

"Should it?" She questioned back at least. "Retribution is part of our culture."

Neville sent her a pained glare.
"It's not the same."

But Dorea wouldn't have it.

"Νο? Weren't you ready to publicly reproach and curse a fourteen year old boy for the insult to Melissa, back then? How is that hugely different to him cursing them, for never looking for him at that dreadful orphanage?" She crossed her arms.

Neville was firstly indignant, by the comparison, and then incredulous.

"You would have expected his father to stay with his mother to raise him? Surely not! If it was love potion that would made it a belated consent to rape," he looked at her stunned.

"...Surely if it had been a woman in that place you would have been already at arms to defend her."

Dorea scoffed in return. 'That was the only answer he could see there?'

"Oh please, staying with her would hardly been the only possible way for him to be decent with his responsibilities towards a child… A certain sum of money to not leave her on the streets at her condition, or to pay for the child, would have been a decent compromise —if he didn't want to take and raise it by himself —but of course the Riddles were practically destitute, impossible to part even with a pittance to settle things..." her sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife.

It was enough to silence Neville, at least for a bit. Finally he coughed awkwardly.

"Maybe you are right, though we have no way to know what fuelled the muggle's actions back then…" Dorea didn't smile with his evasion, then Neville sobered-

"However the point here, Dorea, is that there was an attack towards defenseless muggles, no matter what it may have provoked it... Nothing could ever justify this and if your protege did this it's himself that approached them."

Dorea wasn't sure she believed her ears.

"You aren't serious? You deny him the Right for Retribution merely because the offenders were muggles?" She was furious.

Neville had the nerve to shake his head at her.

"Dorea I believe that you have misconceived this... The Right for Retribution can be called when one has been caused irreparable damage, or pain, not to mention a tradition prohibited to be consequence-free..."

Dorea all but trembled with rage, from his condescending tone, but she locked down any visible reaction and concentrated even more to his words - all the better to trounce him.

"...What of those apply to young Tom? ...I can accept the pain, but what kind of lasting damage did he suffered with his upbringing? Acknowledged Best student and Head Boy at Hogwarts, a powerful young wizard - so powerful in fact he was allowed to address Auror Command as an equal - what kind of disadvantaged is that?" A pause.

"Unless you believe that it damaged his psyche?" A sharp smile.

(So that was the way he wanted to play it!) Dorea couldn't say she was surprised by his logic —although perhaps not expecting him to actually use the tactic.
She inclined her head.

Neville looked satisfied and continued on with a smug look.

"What kind of threat could his muggle family be to him at this point? ...And no, plain revenge doesn't cut it."

But Dorea was coming to an end of her patience.

"Why should I bother, you seem to have all the answers by yourself?" She looked him down reproachfully.

Neville was gentleman enough to look ashamed.

"I'm sorry to make you feel like this, Dorea, it wasn't my intention. But no, I don't have all the answers —not even some! Just those bothersome, persistent questions and my own speculation." The tired aggravation at his face made him look vastly older than his years.

"So please, if you have any personal input to his character, after having him a week in your house, I would be grateful." He looked genuinely penited.

Dorea considered her options.

"Curiosity is a very big motivation to him..." she finally said, "...even if he wasn't bitter with his muggle relations I believe he would have wanted to figure out the truth. He's spent all his early and mid puberty exposed and unprotected to the Blitz, when not in school, it definitely hardened him. He's also —for all his rigorous self training to control it —in possession of a temper, a fierce one..." she licked her dry lips.

"...I believe what I said before, if he walked into that house, cursed them half to death, scaring them enough to flee their home forever, but allowing them to walk out alive I'm very proud of him!" There! she hadn't told a single lie but she didn't believe that she said anything actually incriminating either.

Neville seemed to deeply consider her words and she allowed him some time to process it, finally she spoke again:
"I'm not angry, nor even upset with you for your behaviour, I know how you get," a gentle smile.

"What I'm upset with you here is that your words regarding the muggle family could have easily come from my own dear father." Neville flinched.
Dorea continued.

"How could you speak like the muggles are utterly harmless and dismissable as gerbils? You know better, you have studied at their world for years!" She crossed her arms.

Neville blinked at her, startled by her comparison.

"I will never ever dismiss muggles, I'm utterly proud to have achieved the title of medical doctor, in addition to the healer one." He frowned. "As for sounding disparaging as to their threat, allow me to reconstruct my point." he straightened his body.

"I don't believe that this muggle family could ever be at threat to someone like young Tom, but if they pulled a gun at him ''in his search for answers'' then he could have called the Aurors and saw them obliviated. Nice and legal revenge isn't it?" He smiled, his version of nastily.

It was Dorea's turn to blink... Neville really over-estimated Tom's clout. (For he surely couldn't truly believe that a random teen would have gotten away with his advised action) There was no way Tom had that kind of influence, not yet... The parents of his friends would most probably cover for him if possible, but not at their own expense, not red handed.

Neville saw the disbelieving expression at her face and scowled.

"...I could forgive and show understanding at a youthful indiscretion, born in a heated moment and —more or less —out of justified rage, but not a premeditated act. Moreover I could never trust someone that would set another to pay for his own crime, nor could I ever believe a single word out of his mouth..." he all but wrapped his dignity around him, like a cloak.

Dorea nodded her understanding.
If one lived on principle alone, it was a very fine stance to keep…

Unfortunately it wasn't her world.

"I can certainly understand why you think that, however I'm going to ask you —no, beseech you —to actually use your judgement here instead of simply rejecting all and everything as a matter of principle," a pause,
"I don't believe that all —" (if any) " —of his points were on the wrong," her voice was still soft but she was hardly sparing him.

Neville scoffed.

"Come now, Dorea, the boy may have not outright lied but every single one of his points was subtly exaggerated and only a couple steps down from Grindelwald's propaganda..." a pause, in which he exhaled in an over-exaggerated huff.

"...He didn't say a word about little magical girls getting attacked just outside of their homes, I suppose I can acknowledge him this..." he mocked. But he didn't dare look her in the eye.

Dorea wasn't amused and raised an imperious eyebrow.

"So you say that anyone seeing problems in our world, or wishing for things to be different, are merely Grindelwaldians?" She mentally dared him to try and say it.

Neville's face turned blotchy.

"Of course not, Dorea, that would be turning a blind eye to a heavy number of injustices," he sighed.

"...There are many, far too many, horrible things in our world —either deliberate or accidental —but I believe that the worst of it, the genuine tragedy in our midst is that those problems enabled Grindelwald to not only spread his propaganda but to be able recruit —heavily, simultaneously so —from both in pure blood circles and the muggleborn ones." He smashed his fist down on the table.

"Damn it, Dorea, it's all such a rot!" He looked barely in control of himself.

"If you are a pure blood and resent living under the muggles' thumb you can join Grindelwald's army and throw The Statute in the garbage bin! You are a muggle- born and want some respect —not to mention some better prospects —you can join him as well and earn it! The bloody bastard has somehow managed to join the warring factions under the worst possible light and it's not just German, Austrian or even Hungarian youths.. It's utterly infuriating!"

He sounded so utterly dejected that Dorea couldn't help but worry… The matter concerned her just as well but it seemed to hit Nev rather heavily. Still she wasn't utterly sure that she understood his point.

"I know, it's horrible and terrifying, but shouldn't we —in such a case —try to stave off this madness here instead of merely lamenting it?"

Aggravatingly enough Neville responded to her inquiry with a pitying look.

"There is no staving off about this, Dorea, that's what I'm trying to tell you... There was a balance between purebloods, halfbloods and muggleborns achieved here, far from perfect indeed but a sort of balance nevertheless. Now that equilibrium is disturbed and if we try to give more to muggleborns, the dark pureblood fraction will demand the return and increase of their privileges, if not something worse!"

Dorea had heard him most patiently, even if she hardly agreed to where he was heading, but this went too far even for her.

"Worse?"

Neville had the nerve to look condescendly at her.

"Yes, Dorea, worse. Your Harry in his ignorance and young Riddle in his utter ambition are ready to push the envelope but what if it ends up like another massacre as in 1688? The 'Bloodless' Revolution they called it —anything but bloodless for us —and this time the weaponry is ten times scarier than back then…"

Dorea wanted very much to disagree —she most certainly resented the implication that the barest change in their claustrophobic situation was a direct threat to 'The Statute' —but the very memory of what she had experienced of muggle weaponry —mainly The Blitz —made her shiver.

Neville smiled with satisfaction.

"...Even if they have no ill intentions towards 'The Statute' which I believe, once the avalanche of changes starts there is no way to avoid mishaps, not to mention that the vast majority of the dark pureblood lords are avid Grindelwaldians and so prone to such mistakes. No, the best we can do is to wait for things to settle and even then to avoid any over-risky ventures."

This time Dorea couldn't contain herself.
"The vast majority of the dark purebloods? You can't be serious!" Hands on her waist, she questioned.

Neville didn't back down.

"Yes, Dorea, I hate to be the one telling you this but it's true... Beyond the very low profile, passive-aggressive general support all dark families seem to offer him at Wizengamot there's also a whole list of suspected —and proven—crimes committed in his service and linked with vast names, ones supposed beyond reproach…"

Dorea straightened her body even more.
"Tell me."

Neville allowed only the briefest pause.

"The Rosier family is supposedly indifferent to him and yet Vinda Rosier killed countless magicals and muggles and died defending him... Joseph Weasley —young Septimus' uncle —who worked for Gringotts, accused the Malfoy Lord of heavily donating in Grindelwald's cause and was brutally murdered two days later —to say nothing about Malfoy's very close relation to House Von Bernstorff and their ideas and position before their fell…"

Dorea was unmoved... The Rosiers' allegiance had been known from before the war and the accusations towards Malfoys not from much thereafter... Neville noticed it and his voice was raised an octave taking a hard edge.

"Corvus Lestrange had been accused of a number of crimes cognating to Gellert Grindelwald's ideology, if not directly committed at his side —The Unforgivables among them —but he managed to shake them off using his daughter's death at said Dark Lord's hands to wash his own..." a small, loaded pause.

"Not that I'm entirely sure about said daughter's complete innocence…" The last part far too pointed for an afterthought.

Dorea sent him a quizzical look.

"Thes always preferred males, as far I know him, and yet his only exception to this happened to be the girl his younger brother loved for most of his youth? It sounds like a love potion, if not something very worse to me." Dorea nodded her complete understanding but couldn't contain a smirk. Neville harrumphed, and continued in a colder tone.

"...Lestrange's widow —your cousin Electra —seems to have taken it even further, after losing her son. Not only covertly supporting Grindelwald but outright joining his cause - Auror Command has a whole dossier on her and are still unable to locate her..."

Dorea raised an eyebrow. She sure as hell didn't like Neville's condescending, self-righteous tone. The joke was on him though, for while Electra was her cousin, she was also his sister in law….. Neville seemed to suddenly recall it though and he took an ugly colour.

But Dorea didn't feel much pleasure with her victory, Nev's revelation had actually rocked her, for all that she managed to control herself. She had never considered Electra that much of a radical —or violent —but she supposed that pain did strange things to people. She couldn't even bear the thought of losing either one of her children.

Neville noticed her pensive expression and seemed to smuggly relax, taking it as her sorrowful acceptance. Dorea couldn't have that.

"Those are indeed heavy names, I will grant you that... But still, hardly the vast majority of the dark purebloods, you seem to veer into exaggeration!" Then she gently smiled to take the sting from her words.

It didn't work, Neville's parring expression looked more like a goblin baring his teeth after perceiving himself cheated than any kind of acceptance.
Dorea steeled herself...

"What about your brother, Dorea? Your elder brother?" He insinuated the words carefully, as if to twist the knife.

Dorea tried for her calmest look still.

"What about Cepheus, Nev? What did he do, this time? Beyond his involvement at the Gaunt case I mean..." The nonchalance was a front, the annoyance far too real...

Neville was a decent enough person to look momentarily guilty.

"He didn't go as far as say, Electra, nor are any accusations about donating at Grindelwald's cause as yet," Nev's tone got slightly snide. "However he has been traveling about and coincidentally happened to be at many specific cities about roughly the same time as Grindelwald's rallies… No one can prove he attended but so many coincidences sound very suspicious, no?"

Dorea wanted to hide her face in her palms and groan her frustration but she wasn't really surprised, like with Electra. Cepheus wanted to have influence and be important at everything he got involved with, but he was truthfully far too smart to commit to an extent that it could cost him...

Still even this hardly proved Neville's point.

"They are a notable percent of the upper echelon, however even with my brother's addition, hardly close to the whole," a pause. "Frankly speaking, I don't understand why they follow him even those that do…." Dorea hoofed her indignation.

Neville looked this side of condescending which fuelled her irritation even more.

"...And don't you dare tell me they do it because they are Dark, for we'll have words."

Neville looked taken aback.

"Well," he said at least, "being Dark may not be the defining factor to this, but all of the aforementioned people are indeed leading members of the Dark faction and already aptly demonstrative of their willingness to take things far to spread their power and influence."

Dorea considered her reply.

"I will bow down to your attestment of their character but it still doesn't make them the whole of the movement, nor is it in any way conclusive as to what they'll be gaining by backing up Grindelwald so completely."

Neville spluttered.

"What they'll be gaining? Come now, Dorea, you know perfectly well that answer. The regime of their choosing up in power, the potential to rule us all under the Dark Lord's sceptre, bowing down —only — to him instead of the Ministry and its laws. All those are certainly valid reasons to follow Grindelwald if one is that way motivated." His answer seemed to restore his surety in himself once again.

Dorea allowed herself a cold smile.
"Only if he wins, Nev, only if he wins…"

Neville seemed suitably startled so Dorea steepled her hands and continued on.

"If they out themselves as Grindelwaldians they will have to face our community regarding them as traitors and associating them with the Dark Lord's atrocities... their social standing, even properties will hardly withstand that. Even if he wins, Grindelwald has other followers, devoted to him from the start, it's far more likely to reward those —if he actually rewards anyone, instead of people that could be considered recalcitrant . Whom other than the Aurors know or question the allegiance of those you mentioned?"

Neville nodded once, conceding the points, Dorea took it again, more warmly…

"...and Grindelwald will lose, it's now only a matter of time. ...Not only did he lost his conquered territories without the Nazi army to back him up but he has been witnessed by multiple people losing to two teenagers, not just getting disarmed but facing death on his knees drenched in dirt!" She couldn't help but feel a thrill with this. (The bastard had tortured and still holding her Charlus!)

"Our people are not going to forget this... Νo matter what may happen when that sheen of invulnerability is gone. Whether to the boys, Albus Dumbledore, or to someone else with a lucky shot, he'll get his... His 'kingship' is as a matter of fact over!" She all but crowed.

Neville smiled approvingly at this, whether for the same emotional reasons as her own, or pride in her acknowledgment that his master in all but name could be the one to end this, his face shone with the same savage satisfaction that she felt.

But then he had to open his mouth…

"So you acknowledge that the dark faction has everything to win with Grindelwald in power?" He asked her slyly.

Dorea bristled with this, irritated by his continuous obstinence and utter narrow- mindedness.

"Hardly! We are people with long memories, Nev, even if we tend to pretend otherwise. It took our ancestors long centuries to actually become one people —Celts and Romans, Vikings... Saxons and Normans together —and long decades still for the passions to ease after the civil war... Do you really think it will be easy to forgive those who collaborated with Grindelwald, hurting our very country in the process? Nothing actually worth it or long term could be won by betrayal!" Dorea knew she was now lecturing, nearly as bad as Nev, but she really couldn't help it.

Neville was now smiling, but his pose still showed some scepticism.

"I know how you personally feel about such things, Dorea, but hardly everyone shares your integrity —and Grindelwald is a Dark Lord. The Dark Faction were hoping for one to shift things back to their favour, for at least three generations already. Won't at least some of their members be ready to pay, at any price, to finally get our society exactly as they want it?" His tone was pensive.

Dorea decided to be candid.
"Some have and will, there are always going to be fanatics at any place, Nev," a raised eyebrow.

"However, while Grindelwald may be a Dark Lord, he's still a foreigner, and there is no guarantee that he will respect our culture —much less restore it —instead of going with the most northern traditions that it is said he personally follows. Or perhaps he'll try to destroy everything from the root..." she said, with a careful light tone, to come off as a simple pondering, not shoved down Neville's throat.

Neville was looking at her with actual surprise, and it was with some effort that Dorea didn't feel even mildly insulted.

"But if he wants any hope to hold our land —assuming he manages to take it —he will need at the very least, the most respected and well established names…" some of her irritation slipped through.

"Even the Romans cultivated the richest Celts… He will need the Dark elite..." Neville said it like it was just now that he actually understood this.

Dorea held back a sigh. Finally!

"Exactly, no matter how much they'll help him or not, Grindelwald would still need them if he actually plans to rule instead of burning our whole culture to the ground —and if he plans ...that... there is hardly a reason to be followed, even by the most fanatical of the Dark sect."

Neville sent her a bitter smile.

"Nothing like your dreams - and those like you - eh Dorea?" His acid bitterness towards his wife was nearly palpable.

Dorea glowered but, since he was right anyway, she didn't bother with a reply. Neville continued.

"...and you are right, following someone local is far more sensible… giving those dreams a chance..." He was only half ironic.

Dorea still didn't deigned an answer.

"...Is that way you chose young Riddle? His voice was warm to this, not merely business like.

"I," Dorea was—very embarrassingly—thrown by the brothery tone, thrown enough that she almost gave him the genuine answer. (I didn't—)

That would have been an utter disaster, for if Neville had found it was Leonard's choice instead of hers he would have taken Melissa back to his home at once... No matter if he had found them mid-vows, or at what possible intimate moment he was interrupting.

Half a moment less of a breath, to contain herself...

"I chose Harry." —steady as the pillars of the earth— "Tom is an ally to me and my House, but I follow Harry." Her voice was delicately frosty.

Neville bowed his head, looking both respectful and actually remorseful.
"I understand."

Dorea returned the gesture and a great part of her anger chose to depart.

Neville looked genuinely regretful, and she could acknowledge that he owed her such a payback after she dared to use his best friend's memory for a point...
Regrets and fury aside though, she was honestly proud of him—that was a well played game! ...Her cousin Calidora had taught him well!

"...But while I understand your heart and reasoning," Neville continued, grave and hollow voiced, "I really don't believe that our Houses can continue as they were." He drew his wand, leaving it for now at the table.

It hit Dorea between the eyes like a Cruciatus. She had known, of course, that it was coming—how could someone so straightlaced as Neville do otherwise? But the fact that he had bothered to berate and talk politics with her for close to an hour had given her false hope.

It hurt, far worse than what she expected when she first considered the possibility and it wasn't even half about what it would cost her son... Nevertheless she knew what both her duty and dignity dictated.

She drew out her wand as well.
"I understand, Neville."

The ritual was short and simple, a mere light touch of their crossed wands, the words right to the point…

"I hold no longer responsibility towards your House."

"I hold no longer responsibility towards your House."

...It was done. The results were felt right at once, the egress of the Longbottom magic feeling like a whole layer of their wards left with it. Worse than this, though, was the tearing up of another huge lump of her personal family tapestry, leaving her even more alone than before...

Alphard's return and Harry's addition helped considerably, but it wasn't enough—it would never be enough—unless her beloved was back in her arms with their kids and as much family as possible around them.

"The marriage is still to take place. Immediately." Neville's gruffy voice interrupted her painful muchings, tone commanding—like he had to force the issue. Dorea's eyes opened wide.

"My daughter is an adult. I owe it to her to respect her choice," he replied to her silent question.
"However I have a demand..." Goblin steel of a voice.

"Name it." Dorea's blood singed with blessed relief but her voice was equally steady as she answered him.

"My daughter is never to take place in a physical conflict or battle. You will keep her safe, and if you ever know there is someone moving against your House or made a move against someone yourselves, you will send her home to us, or at least to safety." A small pause...

"My wife wanted to send her to France and I'm contradicting her wishes to give Melissa her choice, but I want the same reassurance of her safety, your promise, Dorea." It was the father asking her now, not demanding, and to that Dorea replied with a smile.

"It will be done, Neville."

Frankly speaking, she doubted that either of the children will have a problem with this. Leonard wanted her safe too and physical confrontation was never Melissa's way. Sending her out of the country ...if need be... may pose a problem with her, but Dorea both hoped there would never be such a need and counted on said girl's love for her father to arrange it.

"I suppose you will stay for the ceremony?" It was a rhetorical question, meant to bring an end to this now meaningless talk without further pain, for both pain and relief would be easier to deal with when she wasn't immersing herself within them. Thank Merlin that her responsibilities had doubled for the night, there was no finer distraction.

"Of course I will stay for the ceremony and give her up!" Neville sounded utterly affronted. "I'm still her father!" Then he seemed to take a better look of her and grew thoughtful.

"...You know, of course, that if there is a need of it, all of you and yours can reach sanctuary with mine at Longbottom manor? We are still Kin, Dorea." He sounded very gentle.

It was that gentleness that hurt Dorea all the more, even if the promise to those words shed a little balm to her wounded soul. Kin… Kin and Sanctuary... Would —could that be enough for her Charlus, when he still saw Neville Longbottom as his brother? His only remaining brother, not lost to death?

{...Dorea had already lost one brother to estrangement, due to his inability to respect her life choices—when said choice was just barely accepted from their practically heartless father—and had been separated for a whole decade with her beloved baby brother, said younger brother surviving only because her father believed that even a magicless Black was better than the muggles (with Neville seeing peripherally all of those and supporting her beside Charlus). She had made her choices, she could live with them…

But her Charlus, what kind of choices did he made...?
The only thing he ever wanted was to bring the families even closer together.

...So, she couldn't help but be afraid that even if her Charlus understood her reasoning and even came to accept and genuinely love Harry, he still wouldn't fully forgive her the loss of another brother and will still resent her—deep down, even if he never got to say a word…

And, beyond this, while she was never as close to Nev as Charlus, she was also losing a brother tonight nevertheless...}

Dorea couldn't help but glare, the pain and pressure to her temples and the back of her head steadily increasing, her unger bubbling under the surface.

"All of mine, Neville?" Voice full of irony, she called out his bluffer.
"Even Tom and Harry?"

Neville blustered, then glared back, equally hard.

"All of you, Dorea... Young Harry is Kin..." —and a very close Kin— "...and Riddle as good as his husband... if they'll ever ask for Sanctuary they'll have it," a pause.

"Though I don't believe they'll ever deign to do such a thing…"

Dorea's lips pursed, her anger flaring. Neville may be honest in this, but it was still a halfhearted thing - and obviously something that he wished to avoid.

"I'm sure that your Lord will just love this…." she interjected with clear derision.

It was Neville's turn to flare. With a violent move he was up and glaring her down underneath his nose.

"My Lord can do and say as he pleases, none of it will ever make me betray or turn against my Kin—unless they do it first and turn arms against me and mine… Tell that to your young Lord, Dorea.-"

But Dorea was now utterly baffled.
"Turn arms against you? Why in Merlin's bloody name would they do that?"

Neville's mouth opened, then closed, then he summoned his chair back tο a vertical position and sat, still silent… Only then started speaking.

"I believe there were misunderstandings in our talk so far."

Dorea wasn't any less angry but she preferred figuring out his brain that the temporary satisfaction of throwing him out.

"Enlightened me, Neville." She crossed her arms.

Neville took a deep fortifying breath and started speaking.

"There are some things at play you don't know about, and I believe that you should..." a cough.

"Albus believes that, after these two World Wars due to Grindelwald—or at least his involvement—it's quite possible that the Dark inclined wizards may choose, or be gently persuaded, to give up such harmful practises and rejoin the Light…"

Dorea was left not just speechless but a complete pillar of salt pillar. Nothing of Neville words made sense to her or were in any way associable with the man she knew.
(...putting principles before people was one thing what was happening here quite another…..)

"I'm not sure I understand you here, Neville…" she managed at least. "...Would you explain this some more?"

Neville sent her a suspicious look but his desire to tell her was much stronger than any reservation.

"The Dark Lord Grindelwald brough only violence and corrosion to us… Damage after damage, death after death… is so impossible to imagine that a good number of people born under such influences would want nothing with such magics?" He made a move to take her hands then seemed to think it better.

"...Just think about it, Dorea, if such thoughts get nurtured and encouraged and people returned to the Light - and if those returning slowly inspired others and all of them took some care with their marriages and that of their children—augmenting them with the right rituals—then it could actually happen... That corrosive influence within our society could be utterly purged from us, within fifty years... It could really happen Dorea!"

Dorea did think of it, and it sent icy chills all over her body.

That bout of uncontrolled enthusiasm gone, Neville regarded her once again calmly. He seemed back to his rational self.

"...and I believe in Albus' vision, Dorea…. The powerful Dark families must have seen it too and want to dissociate themselves with Grindelwald's shame, maybe even create a new start to avoid the mass exodus… it's the only thing that makes some sense here… Why else Riddle's most prominent followers be specifically those that their families followed Grindelwald? ...Why follow an eighteen year old student, full stop—no matter his power? One of the reasons surely must be about clearing their names and remaining on top, otherwise there is no meaning…"

It was his pedantic tone that finally broke Dorea.

"Do you hate us that much, Neville, that you really want us gone?"

(The fanaticism and uncontrolled enthusiasm could be explained on a potion or a well crafted Imperious, the cool rationality and pedantry was all Neville. Even if he was influenced to hell and back, he wasn't a complete victim here)

Her voice was barely more than a whisper but it seemed to pierce Neville to his core.

"Hate you? I don't hate you at all Dorea! And certainly, I don't want you gone… But with your husband a hero of the Light and with your children born to the Light I believe that you have already made the choice that you seem to detest, and it disturbs you so much..." he had the gall to try sounding comforting.

Dorea scoffed (the vast majority of those were untruths and even that was very generous).

"Then you know nothing. My family history, my beliefs, my very core are of the Dark and you ask this? How dare you?" A small pause, "...and my husband was never that completely devoted to the Light and we both know this."

"Dorea…" he looked like he was slapped, but he didn't dare to contradict her last words.

But Dorea was done with all of this, her patience shattered to pieces.

"I'm asking you once again, Neville," she hissed. "Do you hate us that much?"

She was putting one last effort—for thirty five years of solid friendship and family—and then they were done.

Neville crumbled.

"No, I don't hate you. You are like a bitchy little sister and Kali—my dark goddess—is my entire world…" then he seemed to put himself together, "...but my personal feelings for my family are hardly enough to continue justifying an entire toxic culture and situation, I can't…."

Migraine exploded behind Dorea's eyes so suddenly that she couldn't help but sway, nearly doubling over by nausea. But, more than the pain, frustration and betrayal filled her up to her every pore.

Instantly, Neville was close at her side.

"How bad is it, Dorea? Can you focus your eyes? Why didn't you tell me that your migraines were getting worse?"

Another time this would have warmed Dore. Here and now though, it just made her madder. Thankfully her reflexes were mostly unaffected from the pain and in the blink of an eye she had her wand at hand and then at his pulse point.

"Get out of my house, Neville, or you won't live to regret it."

Neville froze, recognising her deadly tone. Still the healer prevailed...

"I will, I promise. Will you please allow me help you first? ...Please?"

The part of her that was all about cold logic was plainly against trusting him after his revelations, however thirty years of friendship and the unshakable knowledge that he would never mistreat a perceived patient weighed to her much heavier.

"Alright Neville."

Instantly Neville had out his medical bag and enlarging it, rummaging in for a moment and taking out two potions.

"Here," he gave her the small vial. "This will help you with the nausea," then he conjured a tablespoon, filling it at three quarters, "and this is much stronger than your usual medicine, though it won't knock you out from tonight's festivities."

A very grateful smile lifted Dorea's lips and she downed both that and the second potion without a moment's delay. It worked pretty fast too, and the pain started to reduce towards acceptable levels almost a once, filling her with blessed relief and a mounting euphoria.

"Thank you, Neville!" She wanted to take his hands.

Neville coughed to hide his pleasure and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Part of my work, Dorea..." a stern look. "Now hear me out. I will leave this to you, as you seem to need it, but be very careful with it, alright? ...Keep it religiously to the dose I just gave you, or better yet to the small spoon... It contains Manticore poison and it's very addictive," a pause for breath.

"...If a migraine falls close to the previous one, don't take this but your regular medicine, and if your migraines keep coming so close together, come to me to examine you once again. Or at least to the hospital."

This time Dorea couldn't contain herself and took his hands.

"I will be carefull, Neville." Then because she felt back to herself and Nev was still Nev she decided on one last effort to get through him, one done strictly her way.

"Shouldn't you be advising me on the larger dose or something larger still? I'm still a Dark witch and this seems painless enough."

Just as she expected Neville dropped her hands like they had scalded him.

"DOREA!" He sounded shocked beyond belief, "I would have never hurt you for anything nor anyone else!" and genuinely freaked out and remorseful. Dorea believed him.

"Then why would you be part of such conspiracy? Surely you can't believe that it could succeed without rivers of blood?" She tried very conversationally.

Neville looked like a slapped dog.

"Surely not! We planned for no violence, merely the tightening of some lax laws and peer pressure. We don't want to unravel things merely to put them at rights..." he sounded desperate.

Dorea took note of the 'we', wondering if it held any accuracy, but continued with ruthless pressure.

"...and you think your good intentions will be enough when they will get utterly striped from their ancient rights, their magical heritage?" a pause.

"My blood is as ancient as yours, more even. Do you think I would have given up my magical heritage on peer pressure and the begetting of some laws, would you have yours?" A small moment to gauge the effect of her words...

Neville looked nearly murderous but still self-righteous.
"It's not the same."

Dorea merely blinked before adding the coup de grace.

"But maybe you already did... Sometimes I forget that you are a Perevel like my husband, hardly of the purest Light, that heritage…"

"Damn it, Dorea, fuck it all, IT'S NOT THE SAME! If you knew what I know, if you had seen what I have seen—I frankly doubt that you would sit there comfortable as you please and proudly say that you are Dark!"

He looked and sounded beside himself from righteous rage—if not a mere step from an apoplexy—but Dorea regarded him back calmly.

"Then tell me about what you have seen, make me understand..." She had been that close to actual answers earlier, but before she had been too pain-addled to realise it or make the right questions. Not now.

Thankfully Neville was all for it…

"I didn't set foot into St Mungo's treating rooms until we were well into the inter-war years and yet, for all the supposed peace, Grindelwald's agents were already at large, and I had to treat dozens of horrible deadly curses—like boiling blood or slow decay—if the patient had been brought to me fast enough to do something. Most times they weren't, and I had just to find out what killed them—and if I was lucky enough the killer's magical signature." A pause, while he seemed to gather his strength.

"After the war started there were hundreds of such cases, whole massacres. So, tell me, Dorea..." he raised tear stained eyes to her. "Why such curses must be allowed to stay in our collective memory, taught to our children, even regarded as generally acceptable?"

Dorea was shocked—to put it mildly—to see Neville at such a state, shocked and full of compassion. However, being compassionate and understanding of his state didn't mean that she agreed with him.

"First and foremost, your very son, our dearest Anthony, has survived—so far—due to his knowledge of curses and countercurses. He would have died ten times over already if he didn't have that knowledge you want to ban..."

Neville coughed and she sent him an unimpressed stare.

"...and no, you can't just keep it as knowledge reserved only to Aurors, you'll cripple those that could have defended themselves with them, as anyone willing to attack unprovoked, with deadly means, would have had little a care for legalities!"

Neville sent her a look, very reminiscent of Albus Dumbledore's.
"They are still nasty pieces of spellwork, our world would have been much better without them."

Dorea grit her teeth.

"Perhaps, dear Neville, perhaps... But the fact that all those so deadly curses are punitable for fifteen to twenty years in Azkaban, unless the one cursing can prove that he was defending his life, other people's lives, or from rape—and sometimes even that can't be enough to avoid prison—makes the law severe enough as it is!"

Neville harrumphed. But Dorea wasn't done with him.

"But you know the laws far better than me and you never before ranted for them in about two decades worth of impressive rants. So, what's truly about it?"

That seemed to take Neville by surprise, and a very unpleasant one at that. His glare could have killed her on the spot, if he was able, and his snarl was frankly terrifying.

"Corruption!" He spat out. "Everything you are saying is simply corruption!" Then he seemed to regain some control.

"All this time today..." he started again more calmly. "...All those years, you—and others like you—have tried to convince me that Dark magic is just magic like any other but how could it be so when at its very nature lays corruption?" a breath.

"First Do No Harm, Dorea! I'm a healer, those oaths saturated my very existence and yet Dark healing starts by transferring the hurt to another person, and it only gets worse from there... How can I ever reconcile with that?" His eyes looked full of torture. Dorea had no answer to this, not about justifying the Dark to him—apparently that was hopeless now—nor how to reconcile the man he was with a good size of his family… or with himself for that matter...

But Neville wasn't done with her yet...

"How can I accept the Dark as anything but corruption when a good woman like you—one of the best people I know—tells me that she is capable of every atrocity to keep her family? How can I reconcile the person I know with something so vile… How can I take it as anything but evil influence?"

Dorea wanted to slap him for the word vile, however his distress was real enough so she tried one last time.

"Because if it ever come to this, if you had to protect the life and safety of those you love, you wouldn't have hesitated either… If someone ever tried to hurt, rape Calidora or Melissa, Anthony even, you would have reacted with the most deadly spell in your disposal, mis-used even your healing spells… It would have hurt you, maybe even destroyed you down to your fundamental core, but you would have done it."

Neville looked like a fish thrown out of water, but he wasn't disputing her words, and slowly it seemed he was starting to understand. So she decided to throw him a bone.

"It's not that different for me truly, maybe just slightly easier to take that step."

Neville stubbornly pursed his lips.
"It is that distance that I have a problem to reconcile myself."

Dorea mentally threw the towel.

"Then you have a problem to reconcile with yourself, full stop. I'm surprised you managed the marriage you did, or even being on speaking terms with anyone not strictly Light. I take back the hating us part ... clearly you are loathing us and also yourself." She told him that in the dryest way possible, expecting him to leave with a hoof.

But Neville surprised her once again. He reacted calmly.

"I could never truly hate you, Dorea, even if you acted on those unspeakable things. ...and I would never hate my wife... She's my Kali, my world, my Dark Goddess! The most sublime creature on this earth and the person I will never stop being in awe for! I breathe for her."

There was utter sincerity in his words but everything else coming out of Neville's mouth so far had taught Dorea to be very wary… So, she decided to break and the last abscess.

"Is that so? You are hardly talking, much less confiding in one another and—as far as I know—it didn't happen due to my cousin's initiative… The way I see it you don't love Calidora herself but her looks, and the way you managed to mold her behaving. That's not love."

If she had casted a cruciatus she frankly doubted it would have had a more intense outcome, Neville trembled like fish.

"You are wrong, Dorea," he enunciated very carefully. "I love my wife... I love Calidora Black Longbottom from her elegant little toes to the statuesque head housing her brilliant, scheming, murderous brain. I love all of her!"

He spoke with such simplicity and humility that Dorea could clearly see he spoke from the heart. However that made the complete insanity he spouted before more problematic, not less.

Neville was enough back to himself to recognise some of her thoughts.

"...and now you wonder why I keep such distance between us if I feel that way…" a bitter smile.

"Simply, my dear Dorea, because it's the only way I have that would allow me to protect her and still respect her as a person. I can't condone a great deal of her beliefs, or even her actions, but I can't forbid something that I don't know. I can't force her to support me in something she hadn't consented to, to begin with. It's the best way I have to love her."

There was already a vague suspicion to the back of Dorea's mind but the way Neville talked now had enough familiarity that the suspicion had nothing vague anymore.

"...and did you had such feelings from early on to your marriage or they just developed later in time?" She asked him very delicately.

But Neville was as long into the game - and in a much more professional capacity - and caught instantly on.

"Are you seriously accusing Albus Dumbledore of all people of cursing me with the Imperious?" He sounded utterly incredulous.

Dorea wasn't, or more precisely not exactly that… She didn't believe that he would ever break so blatantly his principles as to resort to Unforgivables, but she was damn certain that he had done something…

"Not this, no, ...but are you certain he didn't even unknowingly influenced you—if he caught you in a weak or distracted moment—and imprinted upon you his own ideas? It wouldn't even be the first time—or that remarkable—that a Lord of Power unconsciously compelled a follower to fanatical proportions…"

She had laid it maybe a bit too thick, Neville had once again narrowed his eyes.

"Maybe you are right, Dorea, maybe I need an examination… but in that case shouldn't you be worried as well? Your leading guests can also be regarded as Lords of Power..." he sounded only moderately smug.

Dorea kept her neutral expression with a bit of effort.

"We never sat long enough to talk at length, never mind about politics, it was their actions that impressed me so... Anyway, if any of them had tried to cast at me—any kind of spell, much less Unforgivables—the wards would have let me know. So I believe I'm quite safe."

"So I see," he didn't sound entirely pleased about it, but neither like he was in denial and humoring her…

So Dorea did her own observing and realised that for all the angry, bitter words from both sides, for all their diametrically opposed views and the breaking up of their official alliance, that Neville was still here—fighting with her, yes, but still treating her as family. Maybe not all had been lost yet.

"Tell me, Neville..." she started again softly. "...What do you see in Dumbledore's plan that has ensnared you so, and what do you see in the boys' one that makes you so sure they will fail?"

Neville sent her a mild distrustful look but complied.

"I see Albus ensuring stability… we are all already exhausted with the war and he will make sure we'll have the time to heal and start developing again as people. Slowly, he will start pruning unacceptable practises, and surely and very, very unobtrusively, will lead our world in a lighter, more wholesome future…"

Dorea pursed her lips.

"For some certain frames of mind such a world will seem idyllic, but how do you think people like my cousin will fare in it?"

Neville reacted like he had been stung by a bee.
"Nothing will change for my wife," he replied primly, while his eyes screamed 'hit below the belt' at her.

"She is Lady Calidora Longbottom, no one will ever be disrespectful enough to look into her dealings or judge her." He said it flatly, like while he was fully aware of the double standard he was using here but refusing to acknowledge it all the same.

Dorea sent him a penetrative glance.

"Are you sure she will be content to live on what freedom you allow her instead of her acknowledged power and autonomy as her own person?"

Neville sent her a murderous glare but he didn't dare to say a word. He knew that answer much better than her.

A tense moment passed then Dorea spoke again.

"Will you now tell me why are you so against what Tom and Harry seem to plan? Why do you find seeking the golden ratio—not merely between Dark and Light but the entirety of all our world's components—so unbearable?"

"Can't you already tell, Dorea?" He sent her a sad smile.

"Your boys may have all those brilliant ideas but they remain boys at the end of things… Back in the day, my only cares in the world were NEWTs and to make Kali send me a glance. Charlus was the same—only his efforts were to get you alone. My son is worse... Already out of Hogwarts, a second year cadet—just married—and yet he still puts more effort into chasing skirts than his studies…" he sighed.

"...They may have dreams, as we had, but I doubt they have put considerable thought to them, as yet... Riddle unfolded all his brilliant ideas, only to draw our attention away from Harry, to save him from embarrassment or worse…" The mere memory of the incident seemed to upset him and he pinched his nose in sheer frustration.

"Your Harry is a firecracker," he intoned gravely. "...He may live and breathe for a better world but can you really see him containing his tongue and slowly coaxing instead of inflaming tempers, building bridges inside our society instead of tearing down everything not personally suiting his views…?"

Dorea carefully contained her smile. 'Had Neville realised the irony of his words?' Probably not.

"He's eighteen, Nev, the only certainly here is that he will mature from that state." Neville pretended he didn't hear her.

"Back to Riddle now, he's a brilliant one and will definitely become a power to be reckoned with in ten, twenty years or so… for now though he's just eighteen and neither as learned nor as influential he believes himself to be... He sees himself as a Lord of Power—and on magical prowres he certainly classes as one—but he's still an immature youth, otherwise he wouldn't have had such a close retinue of Blacks, Malfoys, and the likes—for all the heavily influential names. If he truly owes them one too many favours—like the one we suspect—he could easily end up a Lord in name only, but truthfully a mere figurehead."

Dorea pursed her lips when Neville besmirched her maiden name (though it was true that if Tom had indebted himself to her older brother then he would indeed have a hell's time to untangle himself, somehow though, she couldn't see it) and once more at that curious 'We'... (those were Neville's suspicions, hardly hers at all). She didn't interrupted once however, and at the end of his speech she had once again ready a glass of fresh water.

"Anything else, my friend?"

Neville smiled sheepishly at her lightly wry tone, but indeed continued.

"...Both of them are essentially children, with great dreams but hardly any actual comprehension of the risks involved…" a small pause. "Do you think the Malfoys he so trusts—or more people like them—will have much care, never mind genuine respect about The Statute? We could end up revealed to the Muggles before we even realise it!" He drank some of the remaining water…

"...To say nothing about the unrest—sheer chaos—that could erupt from various sides when those plans get leaked out—and no one gossips like Aurors!" A wry grin.

"Such innovations must be planned very carefully, meticulously studied to the last detail and kept secret until the proper time, but implanted fast and hard once that time comes, before any resistance or corruption…" a grave look

"Unfortunately, in this situation none of those conditions were made..."

Dorea had been immersed to his every word but his last disparaging comment made her look at him sharply.

"...and how exactly you concluded this?" She questioned him sweetly. "...This wasn't even an informal preliminary talk, merely some ideas thrown in debate, and even if the Chief Auror or the Undersecretary want to support those ideas you know how slow things move over at Wizengamot—it will be months at the earliest for a decision, never mind any kind of implementation. ...Long enough time to cover all your logical considerations…"

"But….." Neville looked again flustered but not all that genuinely objective. Dorea allowed herself a smile.

"...If you truly find some of those ideas worthwhile—and merely worry about a careful enough execution, maybe you need to involve yourself with the project. Merlin knows the boys aren't going to run it any time soon—they haven't even graduated as yet—at best they'll become consultants… It will be up to the Wizengamot's conscience to oversee things."

Neville looked at her like a barely recovered from a stunner.

"Merlin's beard! You could out-circe Circe, Dorea!" He sounded full of grave admiration.

Dorea relaxed only slightly.
"I take it you find it a good thing?" 'With Neville you could never know…'

Neville smiled wryly.

"Actually I do," he sounded half surprised. "...and it's truthfully a solid idea, I may follow it."

Dorea frankly doubted he would, Dumbledore would have a coronary with his involvement to the project (unless he planned to take it over himself and then there was indeed going to be problems) but he could indeed send one or two honest people which could be of actual help…

Still, with Neville so positive towards her maybe she could indeed afford to make one last effort with him.

"So Neville..." she started directly, for there was absolutely no point for subterfuge at this stage.
"I've heard your views at these points, will you please hear mine as well?"

Neville sobered instantly with her words but his gruffy:
"Aye, I will," held actual consent not merely on the surface.

Dorea let out a relieved sigh, then steepled her hands and regarded him right to the eye.

"If Dumbledore had taken out Grindelwald the previous year then this would have definitely been the thing to happen," she acknowledged bluntly.

"He would have been Minister for Magic at the next election and everything that he intended to do would have gone smooth as sailing most probably for years…
However... " and here Dorea raised her hand, making Neville's eyes snap to it.

"...It wouldn't have lasted forever. It may have taken years—decades—maybe our children would be our age. Someday though, Dark Witches and Wizards would have realised that the Ministry—if not directly the Minister—systematically—and not just randomly—striped us from our powers, our rights for years!" a breath.

Neville looked paler and paler…...

"They would have retaliated. I don't know if it would have been Tom leading us," (and for some inexplicable reason a hand, cold as death, squeezed her heart)
"...or Harry, or maybe again someone foreign, but it certainly wouldn't have been like now…" another breath.

"...This time we had a foreign invader with vague promises of some things maybe getting improved for us, if those plans had happened it would have been our very survival. We would have fought to the death."

"Merlin and The Founders Dorea! What about tomorrow?" Neville looked and sounded like a squeezed lemon but he still found the strength to ask her.

Dorea regarded Neville right back and allowed herself a light relaxing. 'What about tomorrow, indeed?' It still didn't looked like something easy...

"I'm not going to say there are not going to be problems…" she started slowly. "For neither Dumbledore nor Tom would have all the cards to them…"

Neville looked intrigued.

"Dumbledore may still become Minister, if he applies for it…. But he won't have the absolute power or sheer influence he would have if he had won over Grindelwald himself, so his plan will be absolutely worthless for there will be no peer pressure among the people merely for being Dark. And Tom will fight him at every step..."

Neville snorted.

"Good and well all those you say, Dorea, but no one will ever vote for a twenty-year-old, Dark Lord's defeater or no."

Dorea allowed herself a smile, with teeth.

"That was exactly my point, Nev... Tom can't become the Minister, not yet... However the influence he will gain if he and Harry destroy Grindelwald will be immeasurable, and if he follows through with a good career—besides politics—then it will be all too likely that he will be elected at the next turn… Dumbledore will have no choice but to respect him, them…"

Neville's expression showed acute disbelief at the likelihood of that happening and Dorea continued with a bit of hidden glee.

"No one will actually ever believe him if he continues calling him them evil without proof—and if Tom and Harry continue proposing projects supporting muggleborns and the like, Professor Dumbledore will be forced to at least consider them, elsewise he will come off as hypocrite…"

"Merlin's beard, Dorea! That's not peace, that's a sodding balance of terror!" Neville whistled and and it wasn't exactly a happy sound.

Dorea regretted that he felt like that, but with the scare he had caused her, she firmly believed that he needed some change of perspective. Badly. Consequently she very deliberately added one more thing.

"...and if indeed some of the Dark families—or individuals—can't take Tom and Harry's stance about muggleborns and other issues, then they will have to deal with Dumbledore's expectations of them…"

That seemed to actually shock Neville to his core, for a moment he seemed to struggle just to comprehend it.

"A true balance of terror, indeed!" (he looked like he wanted to shake himself until he was again clear headed) A long thoughtful pause...
"Still, its slightly better than the alternate," he admitted gravely, then he considered some more... Finally, he gave her the side eye.

"If your boys keep their side of the balance and continue doing decent work I'll try my best to convince Albus to keep to his…" another pause, deliberate.
"But if I catch Riddle doing something evil I won't rest until it's aired from this side of our world to the other and he's locked tightly at Azkaban... am I understood?"

"Understood perfectly, Neville." Dorea's smile nearly hurt, 'It actually looked like that she wasn't going to lose family that mattered…'

Still, for all her ecstatic relief, those words—balance of terror—kept taking her to the one possibility she hadn't talked Neville about, her one true terror….

"What's wrong, Dorea?" Neville was instantly asking her. "Is your migraine back? You look pale as a ghost."

Dorea forced her body to a straighter position.
"It's not that, Neville, just a stray thought... I didn't tell you every single one of my calculated possibilities…"

"...and I take it it's a doozy," Neville smiled humorlessly. "Come, Dorea, courage! It can't be even more mind-blowing than what you already told me… and I better hear it anyway…" he patted her hand.

Dorea didn't looked at him this time.

"There is another possibility that could bring Albus Dumbledore to complete power..." she started. "If Tom and Harry fail in two days time…" she started and then had to stop, ...for if Tom and Harry failed it wouldn't mean just their deaths, (beyond painful at this point) but her son's, husband's, nephew—and her other nephew—and her ward's… Nearly everyone that she loved...

"Here, Dorea..." Neville had handed her his silver flask and she allowed herself a good sip - but no more - and then nodded that she was alright. Neville shook his head with exasperation but took back the flask.

"You worry too much, Dorea, it's not going to happen. ...Those blasted kids are insanely powerful and they already laid Grindelwald down once, they'll do it again—as for the rest of the force they are elite. They'll tear apart Grindelwald's army and come back you'll see..."

Dorea managed to smile and hold her tears. Neville patted her shoulder.

"I wanted to be there, not Leonard." she confessed, not even knowing why she was confessing it."

Neville nodded gravely, although his eyes were suspiciously merry.
"I expected as much." he replied kindly.

"It should have been me, I'm better, more experienced than Leonard… I could handle it…"

Neville nooded.
"Indeed you are, better than most cadets even, but I'm still glad you won't go."

Dorea smirked at his challenge.
"I could take you, easily, I could take Anthony nearly with the same ease..."

Neville looked at her chidingly.

"I'm a healer. Half of the force at least should have been able to take me... As for Anthony, he doesn't concentrate enough..." For a single moment showing his displeasure for his son - that and his worry.

"Neither does Leonard. It should be me," Dorea sighed. "I'm utterly terrified that you will return me my son in a coffin but, if I came too—worst comes to worst—who will be there for Annette, who will be there for my daughter?"

Neville glared.
"I would have been, Kali would have been, your prick of a brother would have been, even the squib…. But you did good. A little girl needs her mother."

Dorea glared daggers and she considered cursing him.
"Don't call him that... And I should be able to be there for my son too..."

Neville raised his hands.

"Forgive me, your younger brother…" a pause, "...and you were there for him, not even five days ago. To be plain with you, I'm not sure I would have cleared you so soon for battle after this, if you were an Auror..."

Dorea raised two challenging eyebrows… As far as she knew it was not unheard for an Auror to report for active duty three days after a healing, always assuming of course that all issues were seen to… Also Tom and Harry had suffered much greater wounds than her on the same battle...

Neville averted guiltily his eyes but continued speaking.
"Additionally, Leonard is a man…."

Dorea wanted to scream. She could have easily finished Neville's phrase in a dozen or so ways… Leonard is a man… its his sacred duty to defend his father or at least avenge him…even if he's not the Potter Lord his place is beside said Lord and so forth… she knew and accepted every single answer but that didn't mean it didn't chafe her deep inside…

"...As is my son."

Dorea's inner fury died out as if from a gust of wind. Anthony may have had one and a half more years of training but it didn't look like his chances were so much better… they could lose him too, all too easily…

Neville notished her change of demeanor and offered her—again—his flask, Dorea took it, then he drank too...

Another peaceful stretch of silence…

"Well, now that you vented your spleen," Neville started kindly. "Will you tell me what terrifies you so, besides the obvious?"

Dorea couldn't help a bit of mortification. She took a deep breath and put it bluntly.

"If Tom and Harry die, taking Grindelwald with them or not, and Albus Dumbledore remain as the only power in this country, his plan could destroy us from the roots much faster than it would have happened in any other case. This time he wouldn't be fighting the Dark tradition and living, breathing beings but martyrs...The Dark side will be ready to fight back immediately after the first salvo."

Neville swore heavily, at length, obviously seeing as she saw too that a civil war at such terms could very easily bring to an end everything that both of them held dear...

"He won't do it, Dorea." Neville's voice was resolute as he finally addressed her. "I may have to sit on him, or even talk to every logical person I know, but it won't happen," a breath.

"I may still consider the complete banning of certain curses imperative—and don't make that face at me, Dorea... The fact that very talented individuals can block them doesn't make them any less devastating than The Unforgivables." a sigh,

"But it's still a problem of lesser impact than this, it can wait for now."

Dorea sighed as well, even if someone had indeed tampered with Neville's mind it was utterly unlikely to be about this subject. It was too genuine.

"Talk to them, Neville. Maybe some mutual concessions can be made…"

"I don't think it's wise," he sounded regretful.

"Look, Dorea, I believe I finally understand where you are coming from and I can certainly agree on some certain points... Nor I'm ever going to forget who actually avenged Thes—" —and who didn't, or even averted— (but she doubted he would ever speak of it even if it ate him inside)

"—That doesn't mean that we can return at a formal alliance, though," Neville continued sounding super awkward.
"I will lose any kind of influence I have with Albus and I believe we need that…"

Dorea really doubted that he—or anyone—had actually any influence… the way he had sacrificed her Charlus told her otherwise… still, she respected Neville far too much to tell him that… However...

"I understand. But get tested for tampering at any case, alright Neville?" 'He had been far too agreeable, even if it was something he deep down wanted to do, to be considered normal—especially with his extreme confessions…'

"Don't go openly at the hospital," she continued her orders. "...Visit privately a healer you trust, it will be safer..."

Neville sent her a look that—if he wasn't this side close to fifty—would have been a roll of his eyes, still he nodded his assent. Dorea relaxed.

"I have a wife," he grussed.

Dorea smirked in return.

"And I a husband… I much prefer him than you…" and inside her teeth… "He's not a constant baby, like you…"

Neville's returning look definitely didn't fit a man that close to fifty, more like five…
"And I prefer my wife, she's only a harpy for most of the time…"

Both burst into laughter.

"I better leave," Neville was back to his grumpy self.

"Leave?" Dorea was startled, and almost dreading the answer. She had asked him to leave once, at the height of his revelations, but now she didn't want him to leave like a stranger, and especially not to miss the ceremony….

Neville smiled.

"I have a wife and daughter-in-law to call, or you want your dearest cousin away at such a day? She already may never forgive you for not giving her enough time to prepare her daughter for a bride…"

Dorea couldn't help a huge smile. It was such a normal, happy reason for Cali to be annoyed with her, fixable even.

"I will ask the other guests if they'll be willing to attend a traditional wedding, at midnight," she offered.

Neville smiled in return.
"That will be most welcome."

His attention drifted upwards and indeed it looked like Harry's wide circles in the air had started tigneting down.

"Looks like you have a grandson to scold and a daughter to bathe and convince to nap, to be able to attend tonight." A smirk. "One is far easier than the other…" he laughed.

"But later I expect at the least, some sort of perfunctory apology from your ambitious guest to the newly minted Mrs Potter..." his voice remained laughing but it wasn't a joke.

Dorea was so startled to that openly voiced 'grandson' that Neville was almost to the door before she found her voice.

"Nev," she spoke softly, "I don't know if it will help—if it can help—but have you ever considered speaking to Calidora about your reasons for your perceived indifference?"

Neville was motionless—not even breathing—like a stone, then he smiled to her and it took away years.

"I don't know what is going to happen..." he spoke equally softly, "...Not even on which side we would end up being… but I'm glad—deeply glad—that Harry found himself at your house..."
And he would have disappeared inside, after such an emotional, mortificational confession, but Annette was already down to earth and running towards them.

"Mum, uncle Nev?"

PS Please review to inspire me for more...