Mrs. Longbottom returned home carrying a large red handbag and wearing a hat made from a vulture specimen.
Slightly hunched, she entered the living room alone and sat in a chair, staring blankly into space.
She had just returned from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Neither of the two children had improved.
This was hardly unexpected. Things had been this way for more than a decade.
Still, disappointment crept in when her hopes were dashed. The ticking of the clock in the silence only let that feeling fester.
"Knock, knock, knock."
A sudden rap at the door jolted Mrs. Longbottom out of her disappointment.
She looked toward the door, her eyes full of confusion.
Who would come to visit her at a time like this?
"Knock, knock, knock."
The door was knocked on again, and at last the old woman moved.
She stood up and quickly made her way to the Entrance Hall.
"Creak."
The door swung open, and a look of surprise spread across her face.
"Neville?"
Her voice held both confusion and surprise, but then she reacted as if struck by lightning. "Have they expelled you?"
That was what she feared most. She hoped Neville would deny it.
But Neville's expression turned grim, as if something even worse than being expelled had happened.
"Mrs. Longbottom."
A voice came from behind Neville, finally drawing the old woman's attention.
She followed the sound with her gaze and saw a face that seemed vaguely familiar.
"Are you... the Dark Lord?"
Her eyes widened in surprise. She knew that face all too well.
During those dark years, it had often appeared in the newspapers.
"It's me, but I prefer you call me Voldemort. Besides, calling someone by a nickname is rude..."
Before Voldemort could finish, Mrs. Longbottom suddenly sprang