After several hours of bumpy travel, Alan stepped off the steam train. He said his goodbyes to Vivian and Charles as usual, then pulled out Augusta's letter to review the details one last time.
"Ottery St. Catchpole? I'd better take the Knight Bus." Alan looked at the address, considered the distance, and made his decision.
Stepping out of the station, Alan found a deserted side street and raised his wand. Within seconds, a purple triple-decker bus screeched to a halt in front of him with a violent, bone-jarring shudder. Alan stared up at the behemoth, already suspecting this journey would be anything but comfortable.
By the time he disembarked in Ottery St. Catchpole, Alan had to stand still for several minutes just to find his balance. The trip had been grueling; the bus careened around corners at impossible speeds only to slam into emergency stops at every destination. He couldn't help but admire the conductor, who spent all day on the vehicle without losing his lunch.
Following the directions provided, Alan soon located the Longbottom residence.
"Alan! I've been expecting you. It's been half a year since Christmas, hasn't it? Look at you—your hair has grown so long!" Augusta, wearing an apron and brandishing a ladle, beamed as she found him at the door.
Alan hadn't visited a barber once during the school year. His hair was now shoulder-length, reminiscent of Sirius's style, though it remained a deep, solid black.
"I should be the one thanking you for the invitation, Mrs. Longbottom. Sirius and the Potters are unreachable right now. If it weren't for you taking me in, I would have been stuck at the Leaky Cauldron all summer," Alan said sincerely.
"Listen to you, saying such things. You're not just a friend; you're a comrade-in-arms. Have you forgotten? Having you here to keep me company will save me from a very boring summer. Now, don't just stand there, come in!" Augusta hurried him inside, where he was immediately greeted by the rich, savory aroma of a home-cooked meal.
"Wait here a moment. Dinner is nearly ready, and Frank and Alice will be home shortly. You can keep Neville company for me. I wonder if he still remembers you."
With that, Augusta bustled back into the kitchen.
Alan stayed in the sitting room, taking in the decor. The Longbottom house felt distinctly different from the Potters'. While Lily's home was cozy and modern, this house felt vintage and established. The wooden furniture was heavy and dark, clearly pieces that had been passed down through generations. The carpets and ornaments carried an air of old-world aristocracy.
The walls were lined with landscapes and portraits, and the shelves displayed antique vessels. In a nearby cabinet, Alan spotted a collection of small animal specimens. On a hat stand next to it sat a lavishly decorated hat topped with a stuffed vulture.
*What peculiar taste,* Alan thought, fairly certain the hat didn't belong to Alice.
In a crib by the fireplace, Neville lay staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, a face framed by long black hair appeared in his line of sight. Startled, Neville's face crumpled as he prepared to burst into tears. Then, he paused. The face looked familiar. He checked his wailing and observed Alan with wide, round eyes.
Alan found the transition from terror to curiosity amusing. He smiled gently, squeezing Neville's small hand. "Little Neville, do you remember me? We fought off Death Eaters together, didn't we?"
The teasing was apparently too much for the infant. Neville's bottom lip trembled, and he let out a loud, piercing cry, leaving Alan frozen and awkward.
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry. No need for that," Alan muttered helplessly.
The crying brought Augusta's head poking out from the kitchen. Seeing that it was just a typical baby tantrum, she helped Alan soothe the boy before returning to her work. Alan stood back, staring at Neville but not daring to touch him again, terrified of triggering another outburst.
Soon, the front door opened, signaling the return of the younger Longbottoms. Frank and Alice looked exhausted but brightened instantly when they saw Alan.
"Alan! Long time no see!" Frank greeted him with a wide grin. "My mother said you'd be spending the holiday with us, but I didn't quite believe it until now. It's brilliant that you're here. Alice and I are buried in work at the Ministry, so it's good to have someone here to keep Mom company. Maybe she'll nag us less now."
"Hello, Frank, Alice. Mrs. Longbottom has been very kind, and I'm incredibly grateful for the invitation," Alan replied politely.
"Hmph! I believe I just heard someone speaking ill of me. Dinner is served—what are you two still doing out there?" Augusta's stern voice barked from the dining room.
"I'm coming, I'm coming! Sorry, Mom. Look, we have a guest!" Frank flinched at his mother's tone and offered an apologetic look before secretly sticking his tongue out at Alan.
Alan found the family dynamic fascinating. Augusta was undoubtedly a strict matriarch, yet her deep love for her family was evident in every detail—especially the meal. It was a feast, and judging by how relaxed Frank and Alice were, this was the standard. After eating, Augusta busied herself with feeding Neville, her movements full of grandmotherly devotion.
Once the table was cleared, Alan retrieved his gifts from his spatial pouch. The family hesitated at first, but at Alan's insistence, Augusta accepted them. She quickly whisked the massive Tebo Warthog ham away to the storeroom, while Frank, with a conspiratorial grin, opened a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. He poured a small glass and took a secretive sip in the living room.
Alan hid a smile; the man looked like a mischievous schoolboy trying to hide a snack from his teacher.
They settled into the living room, Alice cradling Neville while Frank enjoyed his drink.
"So, how was your first year at Hogwarts?" Frank asked, leaning back. "Did Professor McGonagall catch you much? I remember she used to live for giving us trouble and throwing us into detention."