The Longbottom Decision & Rosa's Visitors
The lamps in the Hospital Wing burned low, casting long shadows over the bed where Frank and Alice Longbottom sat together. They looked far more alert than anyone had expected, their posture straight, eyes clear, though their voices were quiet, almost numb. Every few minutes, Frank's gaze flickered toward Neville, and Alice's hand reached toward her son, as if reminding herself he was real. Reminding herself that she was finally awake and the nightmare was truly over.
Hazel, standing just behind Neville's chair, felt her heart twist. She could sense the weight in the room before anyone said a word.
Minerva McGonagall swept forward briskly, her tartan robes snapping at her ankles. "Well," she said, chin lifted, "we are all here. Montague?"
He was beside her even before the word had fully left her lips. He silently drew his wand and traced a sigil in the air. The air shimmered, then stretched, opening like a door. On the other side, Hazel glimpsed a wide conference chamber with polished wood floors and glowing sconces — a reserved ward at St. Mungo's.
She felt the uncanny pull of the traveler magic as if it called to her, as if it wanted her or craved her. She subtly felt like it was a part of her. An ancient unknown part that clung to stars and dark passages and refused to fully move through the passage of time.
"Step through, if you please," Montague said in a voice that seemed too kind to come from a McGonagall. "There will be sufficient privacy for your meeting." He looked to his wife. "Now that Hazel has seen me open the portal she can bring you all back but if you need me call." Minerva McGonagall nodded stiffly and followed Dumbledore to lead the group into the conference room.
The group filed through: Dumbledore with his serene calm, Minerva Snape with his scowl of disapproval, Madam Pomfrey with a healer's watchful eye. Augusta Longbottom marched like a general preparing for war, her hand firm on her cane. Behind her, Frank and Alice walked with measured steps, each glance at Neville a silent tether.
Hazel squeezed Neville's shoulder lightly before following him Through. She through a furtive smile back to her father as the portal closed behind them.
---
The St. Mungo's conference room was bright and sterile, though the glow of floating candles, high above their heads, softened the austerity. Long tables had been pushed into a circle. Augusta planted herself at one end, Dumbledore opposite her, the air already brimming with sparks.
"I'll speak plainly," Augusta said, her voice sharp as glass. "My son and daughter-in-law belong at home. They've been absent long enough. They will be with me, where I can see to their safety, their rest, and their dignity. Hogwarts is no sanatorium."
"They have indeed suffered much," Dumbledore said, folding his hands. "But we must also consider the danger that lingers. Voldemort has not vanished into dust. His forces will not forget what Hazel has undone."
Augusta's eyes flashed, even as she involuntarily shuddered at Voldemort's name. "So you propose to lock them up again? Hide them away like relics until the Dark Lord is defeated? How much longer, Albus? Another year? Ten?"
Snape leaned back in his chair, voice cutting across hers like a knife. "Better hidden than murdered in their beds. Or do you wish to invite Death Eaters to your front door, Madam Longbottom?"
Neville flinched at the venom in Snape's tone. Hazel clenched her fists.
Madam Pomfrey intervened gently. "They are strong, stronger than I dared hope. Hazel's potions and spell work are something to be revered and honored." Snape nodded his agreement as he glanced at her oddly, again.
"But they are still vulnerable. Rest is critical. Familiar faces, too, are healing. I fear both extremes — too much coddling, or too much exposure — could undo what we have gained."
Frank shifted, glancing at Alice. She gave the smallest nod. Together, their eyes fell on Neville, sitting stiff-backed beside Hazel. Their message was silent but unmistakable: we want to be with him.
Hazel's throat tightened. They didn't need to speak; their longing was plain. As their gaze fell on her she felt something within her move and click into place. She would make sure they were safe no matter where they ended up.
Dumbledore saw their gaze too. His eyes softened, but his words remained careful. "Love is a shield of its own, Augusta. Yet Voldemort has ever struck hardest at what we love most. The choice cannot be taken lightly."
Augusta's cane rapped the floor. "Do not speak to me of choices, Albus Dumbledore. I raised Neville alone while these two lay empty-eyed and babbling. I know sacrifice."
The tension thickened until Neville suddenly pushed himself to his feet. His chair scraped against the floor with a squeal that silenced everyone.
"Enough," he said, his voice trembling but strong. "You're talking as if they're not even here. As if I don't matter either. Well, I do. And they do." He swallowed hard. Hazel could see his fists trembling. "I want my parents safe. But I want them with me. Voldemort isn't done. He'll want to finish what he started. We all know it. Pretending otherwise is just… cowardice."
The word cracked like a whip. Augusta's mouth snapped shut. Even Snape's eyebrow twitched upward.
Hazel's heart swelled with pride. She reached up and squeezed his hand, lending silent strength.
Frank's eyes shone as if he might weep. Alice's lips trembled, but she reached across the table, fingertips brushing Neville's arm.
The room held its breath.
Dumbledore leaned back slowly, eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Perhaps," he murmured, "the boy has spoken the truest words of all."
The debate was not resolved. But the axis had shifted.
---
Meanwhile, far away in Tan — the 5th Dimension, where Star Academy's Sof House tower rose tall and gleaming — Rosa sat fuming in her dormitory. The satin curtains were drawn tight, her desk cluttered with half-brewed philters and discarded quills. All of her enthralled followers had grown dull, sluggish — their eyes too vacant, their steps too clumsy. People had begun to notice.
Still she had nor discovered the secret to the emotion doll, but Hazel continued to climb higher and higher in the eyes of her family and everyone around her.
She took deep breaths as she worked to calm herself.. just as she was about to pull the emotion doll out to have one od her thralls try again there was a disruption.
A sharp rap at the door broke her storming thoughts. She rolled her eyes hard as she whipped around. "Go away."
Another knock. Then a girl's voice, smooth and self-assured. "You'll want to hear this. I can help your enthralls. I've crafted something new. Open the door and allow me to explain."
Rosa strode to the door, ready to slam it open and hex the intruder. Instead, she yanked it half-open, glaring. Two figures stood there — twins, tall and striking. The sister's dark eyes gleamed with confidence, while the brother leaned lazily against the frame, his smirk infuriatingly calm.
Rosa cocked her head. "What is this you've crafted and how can it help me?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm as if there was no way anything this woman could do would ever help her.
The girl smiled broadly, confidentially. "It is a potion that makes them look healthy." She cocked her head to match Rosa's. "Don't you need that?"
Rosa looked at her for a long moment and then sneered. "And what's your brother for? Other than joining my collection?"
The girl smiled like a cat with cream. "He brings resources. Connections."
The boy tilted his head, eyes locked on Rosa with unsettling steadiness. "I can bring you more to enthrall. And nobody ever has to know."
For a heartbeat, silence pulsed between them. Then Rosa's lips curved upward. The storm in her chest cooled into something sharper.
"Well," she purred, opening the door wider. "Don't just stand there. Come in."
The twins exchanged a knowing glance and stepped across the threshold.
Temperance and Timothy Greenstream had entered the building and all was about to change.
A new alliance had just been born and Hazel was heading for a storm.