The one where the Boy lived [HP]

Notes:

I went off my notes for the previous chapter, had around 1k more words but it would have ruined the pure shock for Ron and would have made the whole scene a lot more real and tame compared to what it is right now.

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A/N Dursleys are good in this fic. Dudley was bad earlier, but he came around. They don't exactly love Harry, but they care for him like an adopted son, with minimal disparity between him and Dudley

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Note Rose is HarryXGinny daughter, Jasmine is Dudley's//

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Chapter starts here, read notes for no confusion.

Neville had no hesitation.

He looked over the unkempt garden, walked up the pavement, and knocked on the door.

The door creaked open.

Petunia Dursley stood there—disheveled, tired, dark circles under her eyes. She blinked at him, her grip on the door tightening. Fear flickered across her face, her mind jumping to the worst. Had they come for her little boy? Her little girl?

Neville saw the panic rising in her. He raised a hand, his voice calm but firm.

"Mrs. Dursley, stop. I'm not—" He hesitated. Not what? Not a threat? Not a Death Eater? Not here to make things worse?

He settled on, "I was a friend of Harry's."

Petunia froze. Her expression twisted—grief, sadness, and anger fighting for control. She stumbled back, hitting the gate behind her..

First came the sadness. The loss.

Then came the sobbing.

And then, the rage.

Petunia's voice turned sharp, filled with malice and fury.

"And why have you come here, boy?" she spat.

"You- You have taken and taken—taken all you can from me! They took my sister from me! And then they gave me the spawn of a freak and—"

Her breath hitched. Her face twisted, trapped in a memory, reliving the moment she had picked up the baby at her door step.

She mothered the baby

She fed the baby

She gave him a name.

She raised him as her son

Her voice broke

"And when you come to love that spawn of the devil,

when you raise him as your own,

love him as your own,

You they take him away. And they take him away for good!"

She was shaking now, her eyes bleeding red, tears streaming down her red face.

"Is this your deal devil? You give me a letter! A bloody owl comes to inform me! Inform me!—never to tell me they were sorry- INFORM ME of the death of MY kin!"

She gasped for a quick breath, breathing heavily as she shouted for all to hear.

Her red-rimmed eyes burned with something broken, something beyond grief.

Inhuman—a wailing widow, undone by loss.

She stood silent... and then a whisper.

"What is it now?

Has that hell-spawn freak spawned another child?

Have you come to throw another child onto my freezing doorstep?

To let me raise them, love them—only for you lot to kill them again?

Her voice cracked. She shouted, wailed

"Before the boy even reached my height, you killed him. YOU KILLED HIM."

The words slowed

"YOU KILLEd Him… YOU KILLed Him… yOU kILLed… hIm…you kiled him...killed im..."

Vernon came rushing forward, carrying Petunia up from the doorstep. His arms cradled her, trying to calm her down as he takes her inside.

Dudley approached from the side, eyeing Neville warily.

"Who are you?" Dudley cautiously.

"I'm Neville Longbottom. I'm here for—" He paused, looking away for a moment, lost in thought.

Something in Petunia's outburst had struck a chord with him.

Dudley stepped closer, his tone softer now. "Were you a friend?"

Neville looked up, his eyes sincere. "I was."

Dudley nodded, seeming to understand more than he let on. "Come inside."

Vernon looked ready to protest, his mouth opening, but then he shut it again. For reasons of his own, he stayed silent. After settling Petunia upstairs, he returned, folding his arms defensively as he joined them in the living room.

Dudley shifted uncomfortably, glancing at his father, then back at Neville. "I'm... I'm sorry about my mum,"

"I understand...." Neville's voice growing lonely "Believe me I do..."

he continues, "Harry was a good student, great teacher, best friend."

Dudley nodded, "He was my brother."

The mood grew somber.

"I'm actually here on official business," Neville said, straightening up. "There's going to be a state funeral.

Many wizards claim to have been close to Harry—most tell the truth—but as his kin…"

Dudley didn't hesitate. "We will come."

Neville gave a small, grateful nod. "Thank you."

Vernon, arms still folded, frowned deeply. "I didn't think they cared for our kind—the... without magic people."

Neville met his gaze, firm and honest. "They didn't. They should have. They will now."

Vernon exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples.

The room settled into a quiet sort of mourning. No wailing, no words—just the weight of loss pressing down on them as they sat around the table.

"Petunia is asleep upstairs. She had cried when the letters came and she had cried again after… Jasmine's disposition. She could not take any more of that."

Vernon stared at the tabletop. "The madman who hurt him?"

Neville answered without hesitation. "He is gone. Forever, this time." He looked up, his voice steady. "And I will make sure no more like him are born in this world."

Vernon's face twitched, something unreadable. "So Jasmine...will she will be safe?" His voice was rougher now. "No more hate? No more danger—for being born off Dudley?… a kid of person without magic?"

Dudley shifted in his seat. "Dad!"

Vernon raised a hand, silencing him. "It's my granddaughter." His voice was low but firm. "I would be an idiot not to be concerned about this. And I failed as a parent if you weren't concerned."

Neville was silent.

But then... with full confidence resolution he continued

"She will be safe.

I will make sure of it.

Whether it is Muggle-born, a Squib, a Beast—it would not matter. Not anymore.

I will make sure she thrives. I promise this."

Vernon studied him, eyes narrowed. "I'll hold you to that." He exhaled sharply. "I'll ask you again in nine years."

A silent understanding passed between them.

Neville stood, ready to leave. The others followed.

At that moment, footsteps echoed down the stairs. Petunia stood at the bottom, calmer now.

"We will be there. All of us."

Vernon gave a curt nod.

Neville hesitated for a moment before offering, "He had a daughter—Rose Potter. If you would ever want to meet her… she is my goddaughter."

Petunia stiffened, her fingers curling into the fabric of Vernon's shirt. Her eyes moistened, lips pressing together.

Vernon placed a heavy hand over hers. His voice was gruff, but not unkind.

"We will discuss that later."

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