-A/N
Here is an additional chapter. I've noticed a steady decline in readership over the past month, and while I respect everyone's choices, it is rather disheartening. There's little I can do about it, so I intend to stop releasing after Chapter 150. I shall continue to release extra chapters until we reach that point.
Cheers.
--
The world had been grinding itself down for months. On both sides of the Statute, people spoke in tighter voices and kept their hands closer to whatever passed for authority. Newspapers doubled in thickness. Owl traffic tripled. In London, men in suits pretended they were still steering. In the Wizarding world, men in robes stopped pretending.
Hogwarts stayed Hogwarts, though. The castle did not care who screamed in Parliament or who vanished in the night. It cared about term dates, ward lines, and children who needed to be taught before they became walking weapons.
Letters went out as they had for centuries, and this year they went to new settlements. The Ministry seal on the envelope had changed. The tone in the paragraph had changed, too. A polite insistence, dressed up as an invitation. Step by step, Magical World was turning into a Dictatorship. It started in Britain and spread to other countries as well.
Dumbledore's arrest did more than remove a Headmaster. It tore a hole through every quiet arrangement that had kept Hogwarts comfortable. A patron vanished, a network snapped, and people who had built careers on looking the other way suddenly had nowhere to stand.
Arcturus Black took the chair and treated the Ministry like a siege line. Vinda Rosier took Hogwarts and treated it like a fortress. The empty offices did not stay empty long. Duelling masters, tutors from Germany and the north. Older Europeans who carried masteries like medals. Even a professor from the vampiric clans, brought in under contracts that made their manners as sharp as their smiles. The vacuum did not create chaos. It shaped Hogwarts into what it should be.
Before the academic year started, different from former years, people from Europe started to send their children instead of running away from the old castle. Applications arrived from places Vinda would have rejected without reading before. Now she read them twice, and most of them were approved.
-
In the Lake District, Cumbria, Longbottom Manor woke to Alice's voice cutting through the morning like a knife through butter.
Neville sat at the breakfast table with a slice of bread half buttered, eyes on the marmalade jar as if it might offer asylum.
Harry's shoulders tightened each time Alice's steps crossed the hall. He kept his posture straight anyway, because Alice rewarded slouching with extra drills.
Frank Longbottom stood by the window, hands behind his back, expression innocent in the way only a man about to enjoy chaos could manage.
Alice entered, her sleeves rolled, hair pulled back so tight it looked like it had been bribed into obedience.
"You will not wander," she began, and the word will sounded like a verdict. "You will not accept dares. You will not leave your wand on a table because you are distracted by a pretty face or an ugly opinion. You will write home every Sunday. If you cannot write a full letter, you will write three lines and not lie in them."
Neville's mouth twitched.
Alice's gaze snapped to him.
"Do you find that amusing, Neville?"
Neville shook his head with exaggerated sincerity. "No, Mother."
Harry's eyes flicked to Frank.
Frank's lips pressed together to hide a grin.
Alice stepped closer, the heel of her boot clicking once. "If I hear that you have ended up in detention during the first week, I will personally move into Hogwarts and supervise your evenings."
Harry looked genuinely amazed at the idea.
Alice's expression softened by half a degree, which for her counted as warmth. "Good. Fear is useful when you have brains."
Frank cleared his throat. "They have brains. At least when you add them together."
Alice turned her head just enough to include him in the line of fire. "Frank."
Frank raised his hands. "I am being supportive."
Alice reached for the parchment on the sideboard and tapped it twice. The list was long, written in her sharp hand, and was clearly designed to survive no argument.
"Read it," she ordered.
Neville took the parchment, eyes scanning. He glanced at Harry, and the two of them snickered despite themselves.
Alice noticed. Like mothers notice everything.
"We have three men in this house," she said, voice calm now in the way that promised consequences. "Do not mistake that for power. It only means I have more targets."
Frank's grin broke free.
Alice did not look at him. She reached for her teacup with a smooth motion, as if she had not just threatened her family before breakfast.
Half an hour later, the Floo roared in the drawing room hearth. Green flame swallowed the space, and the air filled with soot and the faint smell of old fireplaces. Alice checked Neville's collar, adjusted Harry's sleeve, and gave Frank a look that was half warning and half affection.
"Remember," she told them, "the castle is not what it used to be. You two are representing the Houses of Longbottom and Potter. Act like it."
Neville nodded. Harry did the same. Frank saluted like a bored soldier.
Alice's mouth twitched again. "I will hear about everything," she added. "Everything."
Then the Manor vanished behind green flame.
The scarlet train hissed. Steam curled around polished metal. Voices rose and fell in the way only school reunions managed.
Alice paused at the edge of the platform, her gaze sweeping. She looked like she could have been a general if the world had been kinder.
Harry leaned in, quick. "Thank you."
Alice's hand touched his shoulder once, and she turned and hugged him tightly. "You are and always will be family, Harry. Never forget that." She gave him a motherly smile and kissed his forehead.
"If the mutt tries to sneak into Hogwarts as he tried to sneak into the manor, you will inform me." She paused for a while. "Or do not bother, I will hear about it in the Prophet."
Neville hugged her properly. Alice gave him the same kiss and then broke away.
"Go," she said. "Find your seats. Do not start trouble."
Neville and Harry boarded, their trunks shrunk to sit in their pockets, and moved down the corridor as the train vibrated with anticipation. They chose a compartment at random, slid the door open, and both stopped.
A girl sat inside, legs tucked to the side, a copy of The Quibbler held upside down as if gravity had no authority in her life. She wore strange goggles pushed up into her pale hair, and a pair of turnip shaped earrings that swung gently when she shifted.
Neville glanced at the paper. Harry did too. They tilted their heads in unison. "Quibbler," they read at the same time, and both looked at each other with the same question in their eyes.
The girl lowered the newspaper as if it had been a curtain. Her smile was soft, unbothered, the sort of expression that made the world's ugliness look like something happening behind glass.
"Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom." Her voice held no awe. It held recognition, like she had already met them in a dream and decided they were safe.
Harry's throat worked once. "Yes."
Neville's ears reddened. "That's us."
"My name is Luna Lovegood." She extended a small hand, palm angled politely. "It is nice to meet you."
Harry shook it first. Her grip was gentle.
Neville shook it next, careful not to crush her fingers.
Luna's gaze flicked between them, assessing in a way that did not feel like judgment. It felt like curiosity.
They sat. Neville took the seat opposite her. Harry slid next to Neville. The compartment door clicked shut.
For a moment, it felt calm.
Harry opened his mouth to ask about her summer when the door slammed open so hard it rattled the glass.
Ronald Weasley filled the doorway with loudness before his body caught up.
"Oi, Harry," he shouted, as if the corridor were a battlefield and Harry had wandered off to die. "I've been looking for you forever, mate."
Harry's jaw tightened.
Neville's shoulders lifted in a quiet sigh.
Behind Ron, another figure waited, tall enough that the corridor seemed to bend around him. Broad shouldered and dark haired.
Ron's eyes landed on Luna, and his mouth twisted. "Hey, loony." He let the nickname hang like spit. "Still reading that rubbish?"
For a heartbeat, sadness crossed Luna's eyes. It was quick, a crack in glass that healed itself. She blinked and put a smile back on as if it belonged there.
Harry's anger rose. Neville's knee bumped Harry's, a silent reminder to breathe.
The tall boy moved.
He grabbed Ron by the back of the collar with one hand and hauled him backwards as if Ron weighed nothing. Ron's feet left the ground. His mouth opened, outrage forming.
The boy threw him into the corridor.
Ron hit the side panel hard and bounced off with a grunt that sounded more surprised than hurt.
Before Ron could get his balance, a fist drove into his eye.
Ron folded, eyes rolling, and slid down the wall onto the floor like a sack of laundry someone had given up on.
Silence ate the corridor.
The boy adjusted his sleeve as if he had only brushed dust off.
Then he rapped his knuckles on the compartment frame, polite enough to be insulting.
"May I?"
Luna's face lit up. Her earlier sadness vanished like it had been an illusion cast by someone else.
"Yes," she replied, and her tone carried genuine delight. "Please come in."
She extended her hand again. "I am Luna Lovegood."
The boy stepped inside, shut the door, and took her hand with an old fashioned courtesy that looked strange on someone his age.
"Michael Mounts." His voice was steady, accent hard to place. "A pleasure to have your acquaintance, Ms Lovegood."
Luna's smile widened, approving.
Michael turned to Harry and Neville, gaze flicking to the corridor where Ron lay sprawled.
He nodded once toward the unconscious baboon of Gryffindor. "Your friend?"
Harry's smile broke through before he could stop it.
Neville's grin followed.
"No," they said together.
Harry added, "We were about to do something similar, though a notch less physical."
Michael's eyes brightened, not with cruelty, but with recognition. He took the seat opposite them after getting a nod from Luna, posture easy, as he had already decided this was his compartment now.
Luna opened her newspaper to read, upside down again, and leaned forward with interest.
Neville glanced at Harry, then at Michael, then back at Harry. It happened quietly, the kind of agreement boys made without needing words.
Harry's shoulders eased. The compartment felt smaller, safer.
Outside, the train whistle blew.
Michael nodded toward the corridor again. "Someone will trip over him."
Neville leaned out, checked, then pulled back in. "Prefects are everywhere this year," he muttered, pleased. "We can call one."
Harry tapped the door with his knuckles. A passing Hufflepuff prefect paused, took one look at Ron, then at the three boys inside, then at Luna.
His brows climbed.
Harry gave him his best innocent face.
The prefect sighed like a man twice his age and took his wand out. A Levicorpus later, the whole train learned about Ron, the black eyed baboon.
The door shut.
Luna clasped her hands in her lap. "I think you will be good together."
Neville blinked. "Us?"
Luna nodded, calm as a summer sky. "You make sense in the same place."
Michael huffed a small laugh. "I like her."
Harry looked at Neville, then at Michael. He felt the shape of it settle, not friendship yet, but the start of something that could survive pressure.
Neville offered his hand across the small space, first to Michael.
Michael clasped it, grip firm.
Harry did the same.
Three hands, three grips, and a quiet understanding that did not need speeches.
The train began to move.
Outside the window, the platform slid away, and the new year came for them whether they were ready or not.