The Spellbook Society – Harry Potter Fanficion Anthology

The frigid night sent shivers down Augusta Longbottom’s spine, the biting wind howling like a menacing predator stalking the deserted streets. Her robes billowed behind her, caught in the relentless gusts, as she marched through the imposing gates of her son’s residence. The bone-chilling cold seeped into her very being, but it was the nauseating dread twisting her stomach that consumed her. Every fiber of her being was alert, her senses on edge, as if the air itself whispered that something was horribly amiss.

She’d been sipping her evening tea when it struck her—a deep, primal fear. Instinct had kicked in like a surge of electricity through her spine. Without a second thought, she’d abandoned her cup, thrown on her traveling cloak, and Apparated straight to Frank and Alice’s house. Her son, her daughter-in-law, and… little Neville.

Merlin, please let him be safe.

As she approached, the door stood slightly ajar, swaying back and forth with the gentle wind. A rush of adrenaline made her heart thump loudly in her chest as she cautiously pushed it open, her fingers tightly gripping her wand. The silence inside the house was unsettling, the kind that pierced through the air, hinting at something dreadfully amiss. The atmosphere was heavy with the presence of dark magic, suffocating and thick like a dense fog. Her breaths came in quick, shallow gasps, matching the pace of her eyes as they scanned the front room. Augusta had been taught by Frank how to cast a Patronus messenger, a skill she hadn't fully mastered until recently. Knowing time was running out, she conjured her Patronus and sent it to Alastor Moody, hoping for help. But deep down, she understood she couldn’t afford to wait for him—something had to be done now.

The furniture lay overturned, books scattered and picture frames smashed, creating a chaotic scene on the floor. Augusta’s heart pounded against her ribs, its rhythmic thumping echoing in her ears, as she cautiously stepped inside. The worn wooden floor creaked loudly under the weight of her boots. Her eyes darted around, taking in the sight of the staircase, the entrance to the kitchen, and the seemingly endless hallway. The silence was deafening, devoid of any signs of life.

The foul and metallic smell permeated the air, assaulting her senses as she breathed in.

She recognized that scent instantly, its putrid odor of anguish and brutality. As her fingers clenched around her wand, she could feel its cool, smooth surface beneath her touch. The air was heavy with an ominous silence, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves. Every fiber of her being urged her to flee, to escape the impending danger. Yet, she refused to yield. Bravery coursed through her veins, refusing to succumb to fear. For her family, she would stand strong, unwavering in the face of adversity.

Suddenly, the silence shattered as a loud crash echoed through the air. Deeper within the house, a disturbing, throaty laugh resonated, followed by the haunting sound of voices filled with malice and mockery.

Her breath caught in her throat as she moved swiftly, her movements as precise as they were determined. She’d been a fighter once, long ago, during the Global Wizarding War. She knew how to handle herself in battle. Even now, at her age, the fire in her had never dimmed.

As she moved down the hallway, the low, guttural laugh of a woman reached her ears. The laugh sent a cold shiver down her spine. Bellatrix Lestrange.

She approached silently, her heart pounding but her steps steady, the dark magic in the air making every hair on her body stand on end. Peering around the corner, her eyes narrowed at the sight of the four Death Eaters looming over her son and daughter-in-law. Bellatrix Lestrange was laughing maniacally, her wand raised, while Barty Crouch Jr. lounged near the fireplace, as if this were a casual gathering. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange stood nearby, their wands out but their attention scattered. None of them had noticed her.

Augusta knew well that survival often depended on who struck first.

Without hesitation, she raised her wand, whispering, “Stupefy!”

A sudden, blinding flash of crimson light streaked through the room, slicing through the air with an electric intensity. The searing beam found its mark, striking Rabastan directly in the chest. The impact was immediate and brutal, causing him to crumple to the ground in an instant, before the others even realized what was happening.

The moment froze, a hushed silence falling over the onlookers. All eyes snapped to Augusta, anticipation hanging in the air. With a swift and precise movement, her wand sliced through the atmosphere, creating a symphony of whirling sounds. Spells erupted from her wand, hurtling towards the remaining three adversaries. The force of her incantations filled the space, crackling with a palpable energy. “Expulso!” she cried, her voice resonating with power. The explosive curse erupted, causing Barty to hastily dive out of harm’s way. The ground shattered beneath him, the fragments scattering and filling the air with a cloud of dust.

Bellatrix’s manic grin faltered, her shrill voice cutting through the chaos. “Granny Longbottom! You think you can take us all?” She flicked her wand toward Augusta, but Augusta was prepared.

“Protego!” she shouted, a shimmering barrier forming before her just as Rodolphus hurled a curse, the impact sending sparks flying as it ricocheted off her shield.

Augusta pressed her advantage, stepping forward with fierce determination. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done!” she hissed, her fury burning hotter than the cold night air. She flicked her wand again, sending a Blasting Curse toward Rodolphus. He stumbled, barely deflecting her next hex, but his footing was already faltering.

With a swift and decisive motion, Augusta abruptly shifted her gaze towards Barty. The air crackled as she forcefully slashed her wand downward, unleashing a dazzling streak of magic. A resonating thud echoed through the room as the Stupefy spell connected, striking Barty squarely in the chest. He slumped to the floor, his body limp and motionless, succumbing to unconsciousness.

It was now two down. Only Bellatrix and Rodolphus remained. Augusta squared her shoulders, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She was ready for the final assault.

Rodolphus emitted an enraged roar, his footsteps thundering as he barreled towards her, his wand brandished high. Augusta swiftly responded, her wand gliding through the air with exactitude. “Petrificus Totalus!”

The spell struck Rodolphus head-on, causing his body to instantly stiffen. With a resounding thump, he collapsed onto the ground, his eyes filled with sheer astonishment. Immobilized, he could do nothing but watch as his limbs locked into place, rendering him motionless.

Three down.

Just as Augusta was regaining her breath, she was abruptly jolted by a powerful force.

“Expelliarmus!”

Augusta’s wand flew out of her hand, and she stumbled back, unarmed. She swore under her breath—she’d been too focused on the others and hadn’t anticipated Bellatrix’s next move.

Bellatrix’s sinister grin stretched across her face, revealing a row of white teeth. With calculated steps, she closed in on Augusta, her predatory gaze filled with malevolence. The glint in her eyes mirrored the wickedness that emanated from her very being. “Granny Longbottom, still trying to play the hero, are we?” she sneered, her voice laced with malevolence, the words dripping like venom from her lips. “Do you really think you can save anyone tonight?”

Augusta’s heart raced as she backed up, glancing around for something—anything—that could give her the upper hand. “You’ll never win, Bellatrix,” she spat, standing her ground.

“Oh, I don’t need to win,” Bellatrix crooned, circling her like a predator. “I just need to make sure you suffer before it ends.”

As Bellatrix raised her wand to cast a curse, Augusta’s fingers brushed against something on the floor—a small, forgotten toy. Neville’s stuffed dragon, discarded in the chaos. She gripped it tightly.

Bellatrix’s lips curled into a sneer. “What are you going to do with that, old woman?”

Augusta, without a moment’s pause, forcefully launched the toy towards Bellatrix’s face. The toy dragon connected with a solid impact, striking her squarely on the forehead. The force of the hit caused Bellatrix to stumble backward, momentarily disoriented and surprised. The sneer on her face vanished, replaced by a look of sheer astonishment.

“You—!”

In that fleeting moment, Augusta’s eyes locked onto her target. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses. With a swift motion, she lunged forward, the sound of her determined footsteps echoing in the chaos. Her fingers closed around a nearby fork, its cold metal sending a jolt of anticipation up her arm. She swung it with precision, the sound of the sharp tines slicing through the air. The impact against Bellatrix’s hand reverberated through Augusta’s bones, causing a momentary sting in her own palm. The force was enough to make Bellatrix relinquish her wand, its clatter on the ground breaking the tension in the room.

The Death Eater’s shrill cry of surprise and fury pierced the air, reverberating with a mix of shock and rage. However, Augusta wasted no time in allowing her adversary to regain composure. With a swift and forceful movement, she lunged at Bellatrix, forcefully toppling her to the ground. Amidst the tumultuous struggle, Augusta’s fingers closed around Bellatrix’s discarded wand, its cool surface chilling her palm. Without a moment’s hesitation, she aimed the wand directly at her fallen foe, the tip trembling with determination.

“Stupefy!”

The spell hit Bellatrix square in the chest, and she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Augusta stood there, her breath coming out in ragged gasps, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. The air around her felt heavy, thick with the remnants of the danger that had just subsided. Her heart pounded in her chest, the rapid thumping echoing in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. Tremors coursed through her body, causing her legs to shake uncontrollably. She could taste the metallic tang of fear in her mouth, a bitter reminder of the adrenaline that had surged through her veins. But, as she looked around, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. The once ominous shadows had receded, replaced by a calm stillness. The danger had finally passed.

Quickly, she retrieved her own wand and cast Full-Body Binds on all the Death Eaters, ensuring none of them would stir.

Only then did she allow herself to look around the room, her eyes landing on the slightly ajar closet door. A small face peeked out—Neville.

His wide, terrified eyes locked onto hers, and he clutched his stuffed toy tightly to his chest.

Augusta’s heart broke at the sight. She hurried over, dropping to her knees in front of him, her arms opening wide.

“Come here, my love,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.

Neville hesitated only a moment before tumbling into her. Augusta held Neville tightly, her arms wrapped protectively around his small, trembling body. He buried his face in her shoulder, clutching his stuffed dragon with all the strength his little arms could muster. She rocked him gently, whispering soothing words, though she knew they could never undo the terror he had witnessed tonight. His body shook in her embrace, the trauma seeping into every tear he shed. He was so small, just shy of four years old, yet the weight of what had happened would forever be etched into his soul.

"I've got you, my love," Augusta whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse rasp. "You're safe now." But deep down, she knew those words felt hollow. There would be no true safety after tonight, no return to the innocence he had once known.

Just as she was regaining her breath, the distinct, sharp “pops” of Apparition echoed from the front yard. Help had arrived—but it was too late. Far too late. Augusta’s heart clenched painfully as she heard the hurried footsteps approaching, but she knew nothing could change the horror that had already unfolded within these walls. Frank and Alice… they hadn’t been saved.

She pressed her lips to Neville's forehead, holding him close as the door creaked open. Alastor Moody’s voice called from the entrance, rough and filled with concern, but Augusta didn’t move. Her focus remained on the fragile boy in her arms, knowing they would face the aftermath together. There would be no more time for waiting. The world as they knew it had been shattered.