After lunch the Longbottom house became quiet again.
Neville wandered toward one of the tall windows in the sitting room and looked outside. The fields around the estate stretched far into the distance, broken only by stone walls and a few scattered trees.
For a while he just stood there thinking.
In his previous life he had grown up in the 2000s. By the time he died, everything had already become digital—phones, games, the internet, constant noise and distractions.
Now he was living decades earlier.
Britain in the early 1980s.
He had seen pictures of that time before, but he had never actually experienced it.
Neville turned away from the window.
Augusta Longbottom was sitting at the table with a cup of tea.
"Grandmother," he said.
She looked up.
"Yes?"
"Can we go into town for a while?"
She raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Is there something you need?"
"No," Neville said. "I just want to see it."
Augusta studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"That can be arranged."
She placed her cup down.
"Pip."
With a soft pop, the house-elf appeared beside the table.
"Yes, Mistress?"
"Prepare the car."
"At once."
---
A few minutes later they were in the garage beside the main house.
The car Augusta chose was a dark green Jaguar XJ Series III. It looked solid and well cared for, the paint polished enough to reflect the light coming through the garage door.
Neville climbed into the back seat while Augusta sat in the front.
Soon they were driving down the country road toward Oxford.
The trip took around thirty minutes.
Neville spent most of the ride looking out the window.
Small villages passed by. Old stone houses stood beside narrow roads. Occasionally they drove past small shops or pubs with painted signs hanging outside.
It was quieter than he expected.
Eventually the buildings became closer together as they reached Oxford.
---
They parked near the city centre and started walking.
Their first stop was the Oxford Covered Market.
Inside the market it was busy but not crowded. People moved slowly through the narrow passages between the stalls, stopping to talk with shopkeepers or examine goods on display.
The air smelled strongly of fresh bread and cooked meat.
Some stalls sold food—pastries, pies, and bread stacked neatly behind glass counters. Others displayed clothes hanging from racks or folded carefully on wooden shelves.
Neville looked around with quiet interest.
Compared to wizard robes, most of the clothing looked simple and practical.
He stopped at a stall that sold sweaters and jackets.
"These look comfortable," he said.
Augusta glanced at the display.
"If you prefer them, choose something."
Neville picked out a warm sweater and a light jacket.
They paid and continued walking through the market.
Not long after, the smell of baked pastry drifted from a nearby stall.
Neville glanced toward it.
"Can we try that?"
A few minutes later he was holding a warm sausage roll wrapped in paper.
He took a bite.
The pastry was crisp and the filling rich and savory.
Neville nodded slightly.
"That's good."
Augusta allowed herself a faint smile.
---
Later, while walking down another street, Neville stopped suddenly.
Across the road stood a small cinema.
Large posters were displayed in glass frames outside the entrance.
One of them caught his attention immediately.
The poster showed a glowing finger touching another beneath a dark blue sky.
The title read:
E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial
Neville recognized the name.
The movie had been famous for decades, but he had never actually watched it before.
He turned to Augusta.
"Grandmother, do you want to watch a movie?"
She looked at the poster for a moment.
"A muggle film?"
"Yes."
After a short pause she nodded.
"Very well."
---
Inside the cinema the lights were dim and the seats were already filling with families.
Neville and Augusta took their seats as the movie began.
For the next couple of hours they watched the story unfold on the large screen.
When the final farewell scene arrived, the theater grew quiet.
Augusta shifted slightly in her seat.
Neville noticed but said nothing.
---
When they stepped outside again, the evening air felt cooler.
They walked along the street for a while before Neville glanced at her.
"Grandmother."
"Yes?"
"Were you about to cry?"
Augusta stopped walking and looked at him.
"Certainly not."
Neville raised an eyebrow.
"It looked like it."
"I do not cry over sentimental muggle stories," she said calmly.
Neville tried to hide a grin.
She noticed immediately.
"And you," she added, "should not mock your elders."
But a small smile appeared at the corner of her mouth before she turned away.
---
They walked down toward the river afterward.
The River Thames moved slowly beneath the evening sky. A few small boats drifted across the water while people sat on benches nearby enjoying the cool air.
Neville spotted an ice-cream cart nearby.
"Grandmother, can we get ice cream?"
She nodded.
A few minutes later they were sitting on a bench by the river eating quietly.
Neither of them spoke much.
But the moment felt comfortable.
---
By the time they returned to the Longbottom estate it was already evening.
Dinner was simple.
Afterward Neville went upstairs to his room.
He lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Today had been a normal day.
Walking through a market.
Watching a movie.
Sitting beside a river with ice cream.
Yet it felt strangely satisfying.
After a while his thoughts drifted toward the future.
Voldemort.
The name still carried weight in the wizarding world.
But Neville didn't feel afraid.
There were still many years before Voldemort returned again. If he trained properly, that time should be enough.
Especially with anti-magic.
Neville rested a hand on his stomach.
"…Still need to fix this first."
His body was still soft and slightly chubby.
If he wanted to fight properly someday, he would have to change that.
Exercise would have to start soon.
And more than that, he needed to learn how to fight.
Hand-to-hand combat.
Sword fighting.
Anything that could work together with anti-magic.
Neville turned slightly on the bed.
Tomorrow he would ask Pip to help look for places in the muggle world that taught fighting.
Maybe a dojo.
Maybe fencing lessons.
Somewhere to start.
With that thought in mind, Neville finally closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, his training would begin.