Saturday night, deep in the wilds of West Yorkshire, Britain. An ancient, out-of-the-way village you'd never find unless you were meant to. Up a long, winding drive sat an old manor house blazing with light.
You'd have to see it to believe anyone built a sprawling estate like this in the middle of nowhere. A line of elegant, antique-looking carriages waited out front. A wizard with slightly graying hair and a faded brown dress robe stood beside one of them, glancing inside the compartment.
His hair was combed perfectly (thick at the roots but dry and frizzy at the tips), and he was on the thin side. The pin on his chest glinted under the moonlight: a fancy "H" surrounded by the four House animals, all worked in copper wire. When the breeze flipped his collar, you could just spot the little white tag that read "Budget Rental – Madam Malkin's Pre-Loved Robes."
He kept running his hand through the empty air in front of the carriage, looking around like he was waiting for his date to show up.
There were no horses hitched to it, but you could hear heavy, slow breathing and the restless clop of invisible hooves pawing the ground. Every now and then a gust of air ruffled the leaves (scaly wings you couldn't see).
A sudden breeze lifted the velvet curtain at the front of the carriage. Even without moonlight, the bright oil lamps inside lit everything up.
It was a Thestral-drawn carriage straight from Honeydukes' Finest Magical Carriages in Hogsmeade. A seamless Extension Charm had turned the inside into a full-sized house (bedrooms, sitting room, kitchen, the works), but tonight only the front parlor was in use. The passenger wore plain black dress robes with a Hogwarts crest pinned to the chest and had his wand tucked inside his pocket and an invitation in his hand.
He stood, pulled the curtain aside, slipped the wand away, and handed the invitation to the wizard waiting outside.
"Why'd it have to be me coming with you to this thing?" the man asked, slow and calm, a little resigned but not actually annoyed. Classic gentle-guy energy.
Remus Lupin (new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, former Order of the Phoenix inner-circle member) and Professor Melvin Lewinter (Muggle Studies teacher and the foreign wizard Dumbledore had personally recruited) were here tonight representing both the Order and Hogwarts.
This gala was the Longbottom family's big "we're back" announcement. Melvin had been personally invited and didn't feel like he could say no, but he also didn't want to show up alone, so Lupin got dragged along.
"Because nobody else wanted to come," Melvin said with a quiet laugh. "Dumbledore almost never goes to parties outside the school. McGonagall and the others hate these things, and Snape… well, you know."
Lupin glanced at the crests on the nearby carriages: violets, irises, a caracara eagle, vultures, all kinds of snakes. Pretty much every name from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, minus the obvious Death Eater families (Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott).
There were some non-pureblood guests too (big names in the wizarding world): Amelia Bones, Barty Crouch, Mr. Sprout from St. Mungo's, Madam Eckmo…
Lupin knew Frank and Alice had never been hung up on blood-purity nonsense. Tonight was about showing the world the Longbottoms were rising from the ashes after thirteen years in ruins. And probably also flexing a little (a gentle reminder to anyone who'd helped themselves to Longbottom money or influence while they were down that it was time to give it back).
They stepped out of the carriage and headed for the manor gates. A house-elf popped up immediately. Melvin handed over the invitation. The elf scanned it quickly, big eyes flicking to Lupin for half a second longer than necessary, then bowed politely and led them inside.
Lupin quietly looked away. His dress robes were rented from Twilfitt and Tatting's bargain rack (cheaper than buying secondhand). He'd only been on the Hogwarts payroll a few weeks, finally eating regular meals again, and he wasn't about to blow most of his first paycheck on fancy robes he'd wear once.
Melvin had suggested the old goblin trick: cash your Galleons for gold, swap the gold for Muggle money, and buy a sharp Muggle suit. One month's Hogwarts salary would cover a really nice one.
But that danced a little too close to breaking the Statute of Secrecy for Lupin's law-abiding soul. No wonder the guy had spent years half-starved and on the run (too honest for his own good). Melvin didn't get it, but he respected it.
The two of them stepped into the entrance hall and on into the main ballroom.
A few minutes later the big rosewood doors swung open. The second Melvin walked in, half a dozen pairs of eyes locked onto him like Sticking Charms. Frank Longbottom practically tackled his hand, pumping it up and down, eyes shining, voice thick.
Alice stood right beside him, eyes red too. Behind them were Augusta, Algie, and a whole crowd of Longbottom cousins and aunts and uncles, every one of them trying to get to the front to say thank you.
"Professor Lewinter will always be a friend to the House of Longbottom!" someone shouted.
Word had clearly spread among the family that Melvin was the one who'd come up with the treatment plan. Pureblood families were all tangled up with each other; the news would be all over wizarding Britain by morning. Umbridge and Fudge were going to have kittens.
Young wizard Dumbledore favored (check). Healed two of Dumbledore's old lieutenants (check). Powerful Order member and highly decorated former Auror now owing him big-time (double check). Two moles inside the Ministry who'd never forget it.
Melvin just smiled politely and nodded. To everyone else it looked like modest grace; the guy had invented the Shadow Mirror, earned an Order of Merlin, been nominated for the Medal for Magical Gallantry… healing two broken Aurors was honestly small potatoes to him.
Truth was, he just hated parties.
"Mr. Sprout already told us everything," Frank said earnestly, still gripping Melvin's hand like he was afraid he'd vanish. "The potions that fixed our bodies, the memory-restoration plan (all you). Alice and I can't thank you enough."
There was something about Frank that reminded you of Neville (same awkward, honest way of talking, same quiet stubbornness).
"Neville says you've been looking out for him at school too," Alice added, voice warm.
"That's just part of being a Hogwarts professor," Melvin said gently, still smiling. "Professor Dumbledore wanted you both back on your feet more than anything."
He tried (very subtly) to get his hand free. No dice.
Augusta stepped forward like she was swearing an Unbreakable Vow. "The Longbottom family will never forget what you've done."
Melvin nodded and smiled some more.
"I'm Algie (Neville's great-uncle)," another voice boomed. "Anything you ever need, Professor, anything at all, just say the word or send an owl. The whole family'll come running, wands out!"
Melvin's smile didn't flicker.
…Yep. Same uncle who once tossed baby Neville out a window to "unlock his magic." One hundred percent Gryffindor, Class of Whenever.
The thank-you parade lasted a solid half hour. Technically this gala was about showing off the Longbottom comeback, and Frank and Alice were supposed to be the stars, but they happily spent the pre-party time in front of every guest making it crystal clear who they owed their lives to.
Once the official part of the evening started, Melvin couldn't go three steps without someone sidling up (handshakes, congratulations, subtle questions about Shadow Mirror expansion, how's Dumbledore doing these days, etc.).
Melvin hated small talk and business talk even more, so after the first few waves he started steering people toward Lupin instead, claiming Remus was the headmaster's personal representative tonight.
Then he quietly slipped out a side door into the garden for some air.
"Professor Lewinter? Mind if we chat?" a voice asked from behind an old Longbottom ancestor statue.
Melvin looked up, a little surprised. "Mr. Sprout?"
Sure enough (Herbert Sprout, deputy head of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries).