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“Hullo, mum and dad.” Neville Longbottom doffed his hat and managed a smile despite the circumstances. Visiting his parents on Christmas had been a tradition going back to his childhood, and it seemed wrong not to continue it, even if so many things had changed. “The kids send their love. They’d have come, but, it’s flu season, and I don’t mean the powder.” He laughed awkwardly. “The babes are all feverish. I suggested Granny’s old trick, but my wife looked fit to box my ears for putting a dram of whiskey in their bottles.” Neville grinned at the memory.
A cold breeze slid through the air and lifted the hair from the back of his neck, what passed for a gentle caress in a graveyard like this one. The local ghosts were all off celebrating the holiday, and in truth he was relieved his parents hadn’t become like them. He liked to imagine they were off somewhere together in the afterlife, finally happy.
“Anyway, it was important to make it out this year, something wonderful has happened.” Neville smiled to himself, pride filling his heart. “It was decided, in a unanimous decision no less, to appoint me as the next headmaster. It’ll be a while before I take over all the duties, but I hope I can make Dumbledore proud. I hope I make you proud. I hope you’re happy, together, wherever you are now.” He brushed away an errant tear and knelt in the snow to place a wreath on the double headstone that marked his parents’ final rest.
“I know that everything you did, everything you suffered, and everything you sacrificed was to give me a chance at a good life.” He took a shaky breath, and squared his shoulders. “And it has been, thanks to you. So thank you. For everything. Happy Christmas, mum and dad.” Neville patted the gravestone gently, and donned his hat again. He walked out of the graveyard, heart feeling lighter. Outside the gates his wife waited, hands tucked into the furry pockets of her coat, pretty as the day he’d married her.
“How did they take it?” The smile brought faint crows feet to the corners of her eyes.
“Oh, fairly well!” Neville grinned. “Mum cried, of course. Dad gave me a firm handshake, but you could see that he was choked up too. They’re quite proud.”
“As they should be, Headmaster.” His wife put her arm around his waist and he put his around her shoulders.
“Oof, I’m not sure I’m ready for that title yet.” Neville laughed.
“How about Christmas?”
“That, yes. That I’m ready for.” They walked off together, arm in arm, and the breeze carried away her mutter of ‘whiskey, the cheek’ and his contented laugh in reply.