The Girl Who Saw Tomorrow II » Harry Potter

2.50 | To Second Chances

Fate was a complicated subject. A mere belief, perhaps, that a greater force out in the universe controlled the lives of people. Fate could be astonishing at its best and downright cruel at its worse.

The night that witches and wizards across Great Britain celebrated the downfall of one of the darkest wizards to have ever lived, two families lost everything.

The memory of the Potter Cottage was sharp in Margaret's mind. Left in its ruined state as a monument of the violence that killed two young parents and left their much beloved son orphaned.

But Margaret wondered why no monument was ever built for Alice and Frank Longbottom.

After all, they were not much older than James and Lily Potter, they too had a son around the same age and had sacrificed pretty much their entire lives that night as well.

They were alive, so people held onto hope. They were alive, so at least they had survived. They were alive, even if they were crammed into a corner of St. Mungo's and fated to live out the rest of their days there.

The Longbottoms... They suffered a fate worse than death.

It would be a childish pursuit to want to turn to the Ministry and say 'This is all your fault!' or 'You should've done more!'

They had done everything they could have to avenge the Longbottoms. The perpetrators of such a heinous crime had been sent to Azkaban (though they should have been sentenced to a fate equally as worse - the dementors' kiss) and the Ministry provided funds to St. Mungo's every year to look after their once-esteemed Aurors.

But that was the past. Now, the future had changed: The Longbottoms had been discharged from the permanent residents ward last Thursday.

A feat that should have made headlines in the Daily Prophet for at least a week, but instead it had been kept under wraps on Albus Dumbledore's orders. And for good reason too. The last thing the Longbottoms needed was unnecessary attention from the Death Easters.

So, only a handful of people, and Augusta and Neville Longbottom knew that Alice and Frank had returned home after sixteen years.

"Here, drink this if you're feeling dizzy. It's orange juice."

Margaret rolled her eyes at Neville.

"I assure you that unless your dad starts tap dancing on the table, I will not be fainting," she tells him, taking a sip anyway in hopes that it would clear the knot forming in her throat.

"Lucky for you, he's been more into the Irish jiggle lately," says Neville, shrugging. It was only when Margaret looked at him in disbelief that he let his amusement show. He chuckled when she slapped his arm, and the two of them turned back to his parents in the dining room.

It was almost... surreal.

If one ignored the Healer currently teaching Frank to bring his spoon to his mouth, it looked very much like two parents having breakfast.

Another tremor shook Frank's hand and the cereal spilled over the napkin tucked into his collar. He huffed, but his frown dissolved when Alice giggled. He picked up a pinch of the soggy cereal and chucked it across the table at her; it missed, but that did not stop her from laughing and throwing a piece of bread back at him.

Margaret and Neville watched the scene from the door, both wishing they could freeze the moment forever.

"Now, now, throwing food isn't going to- oh, Alice!" The Healer gasped as Alice had accidentally toppled over her glass of milk. With a sigh, the Healer waved her wand and vanished the mess. "Be more careful, dear."