The situation with Neville's parents had been resolved perfectly, fulfilling a long-held wish of Kyle's.
While Kyle himself didn't think much of the incident, that didn't mean others felt the same.
That morning, as Kyle was eating breakfast, he was suddenly swarmed by over a dozen owls. Letters rained down from above, and several nearly landed in the jug of pumpkin juice.
One owl, either too tired or unable to stop in time, flew straight into the plate in front of Kyle, crashing down along with its letter and knocking over a large lump of butter.
"I think you're being a little too committed," Kyle said, casually wiping the butter and breadcrumbs from the owl's wings before taking the letter from its claws.
"Letters have been coming in nonstop," Kanna leaned over curiously. "Did Rita Skeeter write something again?"
"Doubt it," Kyle replied, brushing a butter-slick strand of Kanna's hair away.
"She's probably still off in the forest chasing material—no time to publish anything."
Still, today's mail was unusually heavy.
Kyle regularly received letters from various people, but never this many at once.
Since that morning, nearly twenty had arrived, all from different places.
"Where's this one from?"
"Let's see…" Kyle looked down at the envelope.
"Yorkshire. Algie, from a place called Flower Garden Cottage."
"Who's Algie?" Kanna asked, puzzled. "You have a pen pal in Yorkshire?"
"No idea," Kyle said with a shrug. "I don't know this Algie. In fact, I don't recognize a single name from any of today's senders."
"And weirdly enough, none of them included surnames. It's like they all agreed to only write their first names."
"Did you open any?"
"Nope," Kyle replied.
Since he didn't know any of the senders, he was being extra cautious. He hadn't torn open a single envelope. Just in case they were cursed, he planned to ask the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to check them for him.
Why not do it himself? Well, dangerous work like that should definitely be left to a professional. What if some rogue Death Eater still out there decided to avenge their master by slipping a curse into a letter?
Kyle set the envelope aside.
Not wanting to be disturbed further—and also to let the other professors enjoy their breakfast in peace—he got up and left the Great Hall.
First, he planned to find Snape. Then he'd prep for the next Alchemy lesson.
But just as he entered the Entrance Hall, someone came running in from outside in a panic.
"Neville?"
Kyle looked at him. "Why are you in such a rush… Wait, don't tell me—your parents haven't woken up?"
"No, no, it's not that…" Neville was out of breath. He looked like he'd sprinted the whole way, one hand on his knee, the other waving frantically.
"They're awake… really awake. My mum—she recognized me. She said my name! It's the first time… the first time she's ever said my name!"
"That's wonderful. Calm down, no need to rush," Kyle said gently, watching the overjoyed Neville. He extended a hand toward the Great Hall.
A jug of pumpkin juice floated over from the Gryffindor table, wobbling in the air.
Kyle handed it to Neville.
"I thought you'd want to spend more time with them. Don't worry about your assistant duties—I already spoke to Professor Sprout and got you some time off."
"She understands, and said you're welcome to stay with them for as long as you need."
"Thanks." Neville took a big gulp of pumpkin juice, visibly more at ease.
"I do plan to take a break. But today, I came to see you."
"Me?"
"Well, not just me… My gran asked me to thank you on behalf of the Longbottom family."
"All my uncles and great-aunts know about it now. They're thrilled. Some of them already started arriving at St. Mungo's yesterday."
"The whole room was packed… people were even spilling out into the hallway… Then the ward matron came and kicked everyone out."
Maybe he was still too excited—or maybe he'd just remembered a funny moment—because Neville chuckled as he said that.
"Sorry," he added quickly. "My gran also wants to invite you to the Longbottom family's Christmas dinner. She didn't give me the formal invitation, but my uncle said he already sent it… Oh, I see it!"
He suddenly pointed to the floating stack of letters behind Kyle.
"What?"
"That one—Algie," Neville said, pointing to the envelope on top.
"You mean… this letter was from your uncle?" Kyle asked, picking up the still-unopened envelope with a puzzled look.
"Exactly. Algie is my uncle," Neville nodded. "When I first got my Hogwarts letter, he gave me a toad as a gift—Trevor. You know him."
Of course Kyle knew. That toad followed Neville everywhere and was arguably the freest pet at Hogwarts.
Mostly because Neville kept forgetting about it.
Under classroom desks, inside greenhouse flowerpots, perched outside the Astronomy Tower windows… You could spot Trevor just about anywhere—except in Neville's hands.
"So this Algie is actually Algy Longbottom?"
"Yeah." Neville nodded.
"And this one?" Kyle pulled out another envelope. "Enid…"
"She's my aunt."
"Fro…"
"He's my uncle-in-law, but we rarely see each other—maybe two or three times, tops," Neville said matter-of-factly.
Kyle pulled out more letters.
As expected, they were all from members of the Longbottom family.
"Neville…" Kyle couldn't help asking, "Does your family have some kind of unique tradition or something?"
"Unique tradition?" Neville thought for a moment. "Not that I know of…"
He sounded uncertain, mostly because his memory wasn't great—if there was a tradition, he probably wouldn't remember it anyway.
"Okay, let me put it this way." Kyle pointed at the names on the envelopes. "Do people in your family usually write letters without including their surname?"
That's when Neville noticed—none of the signatures on the envelopes had last names.
But he didn't really know how to explain it.
Now that he thought about it, Uncle Algie had always just signed his first name on letters—he'd done that since Neville was little.
Looking at it that way… maybe it was a family tradition, after all.
"Maybe… they were just really excited," Neville mumbled, trying to offer an excuse.
His voice was too quiet for Kyle to hear.
But it didn't matter.
Now that Kyle knew the letters were from the Longbottom family, he felt at ease and casually opened one.
It was the letter from Algie Longbottom.
Inside was a piece of parchment with gold-embossed lettering—the most expensive type you could buy at the stationery shop, costing a full Galleon per sheet.
So, the Longbottoms were doing quite well financially.
Which, come to think of it, made perfect sense.
The Longbottoms were one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families. They might not be on the same level as the Blacks or the Malfoys, but a few hundred years of accumulated wealth still counted for something.
Kyle skimmed the letter's contents.
It was a very formal invitation.
He could tell the writer had been a bit emotional—some lines were crooked—but the tone was earnest and sincere.
Just as Neville had said, the Longbottom family planned to host a Christmas dinner to celebrate the recovery of Neville's parents.
This letter was the official invitation for Kyle.
"My uncles originally wanted to come to Hogwarts to thank you," Neville added, "but Gran thought having that many people show up might disrupt classes. So they settled on writing letters instead."
"Good thing your grandmother had some foresight." Kyle's mouth twitched slightly.
People who write to strangers without even signing a surname probably aren't the most reliable. If a whole crowd of them had shown up at Hogwarts, Kyle wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if something bizarre happened.
Oh—he suddenly remembered something.
Neville had once mentioned that, as a child, one of his uncles had thrown him out of an attic window to see if he had any magic.
Neville hadn't said which uncle it was, so Kyle didn't know if it had been Algie.
But tossing a child who wasn't even ten out a window… no sane person would think that was okay.
If that side of the family ever showed up at Hogwarts, things would definitely get interesting.
"But my mum and dad are here."
Neville's voice pulled Kyle out of his thoughts.
"They're in Hogsmeade right now. They want to thank you in person."
Kyle's first instinct was to decline.
He could already guess what they'd say—a whole string of heartfelt thank-yous. Whether he went or not, it wouldn't change much. Honestly, he'd rather use the time to write some actual cursed letters and send them to Snape.
That would at least keep Snape from wandering aimlessly around the castle all day.
But under Neville's persistent urging, Kyle eventually let himself get dragged along.
And to be fair, Neville had surprising strength—probably from hauling flowerpots around the greenhouses all the time.
Plus, there was something Neville had said that stuck with him.
He'd mentioned that his father—Frank Longbottom—was acting a little… off.
Neville's expression had been a little odd when he said it, so Kyle figured it was worth checking out.
Call it after-sales service.
The two of them headed to Hogsmeade.
This time, it wasn't The Three Broomsticks.
Probably because the Healers had forbidden alcohol, Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom were waiting at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.
When Kyle and Neville pushed open the door, the couple stood up at once, almost like students rising to greet a professor.
But before they could say anything, Kyle spoke first.
"If you're here to thank me, Neville's already done that for you. You're family—there's no need to say it again."
"That's different," Frank Longbottom said, shaking his head. "We need to thank you in person. You saw what we were like before—completely helpless. You basically saved our lives."
"You've saved lives yourselves, haven't you?" Kyle replied. "You were part of the Order of the Phoenix. This isn't anything worth making a fuss over."
"The Order of the Phoenix…" Neville's mother murmured, "You're a member too? One of the new generation, right? I should've guessed… A wizard as talented as you must've joined."
"Actually… that was a while ago." Kyle shrugged. "The Order doesn't exist anymore. It's been disbanded."
The smiles on the Longbottoms' faces froze, and their expressions quickly turned pale.
"You must be joking…"
"The Order of the Phoenix can't be gone…"
Having only just regained full awareness, their memories were still stuck years in the past. They hadn't yet caught up with the current state of the magical world.
Neville's mother was a bit more informed, since she had moments of lucidity and had picked up scattered bits and pieces over time.
But normally, Neville wouldn't waste those precious moments updating her on wizarding politics.
So she didn't know much either.
"No, I'm not joking. The Order of the Phoenix has been disbanded—Dumbledore himself did it." Kyle calmly picked up the freshly delivered tea, took a sip, then set it back down.
"Oh, and by the way, Dumbledore's dead. Minerva McGonagall is the current Headmistress of Hogwarts."
Bang, bang!
The two turned even paler. At the mention of Dumbledore, they both collapsed to the floor, one after the other.
"Neville, you didn't tell them?" Kyle turned and asked.
"N-No, I didn't."
Neville's face flushed as he rushed to help them up, quickly recounting everything that had happened over the past few years—
From Voldemort's return, to the Order of the Phoenix joining forces with the Ministry of Magic, and finally, to the Battle of Hogwarts.
Kyle had never seen Neville speak so fluidly—no stammering at all.
Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom were visibly shaken. They hadn't expected so much to have happened in their absence.
They wanted to ask for details, but now wasn't the time. They had no choice but to hold their questions.
Kyle sat across from them, nodding in satisfaction.
It seemed distracting them had worked. At least they weren't going on endlessly with their thanks anymore.
"By the way, Mr. Longbottom," Kyle said, seizing the opportunity, "I heard from Neville that you've been applying Dittany to yourself. Can you tell me what that's about?"
"Ah, that..."
Frank Longbottom snapped out of his daze and shook his head. "It's nothing. Just a small thing—nothing to worry about."
"It's alright, no need to feel embarrassed."
"It's really not what you think," Frank said again. Then, after a brief pause, he rolled up his sleeve and pointed to a scar on his arm.
"This one. I'm not sure when it showed up—I just thought I'd try Dittany to see if it would help."
The scar was small, but its shape was distinctive—like a lightning bolt.
Neville saw it too. He stared at the scar, opening his mouth as if to speak, but hesitated.
He'd seen a scar like that before—on Harry's forehead...
Wait a second.
Neville had only glanced at his father's forehead instinctively, but that single glance was enough—he saw it again. That same familiar scar.
It was on his forehead too, mostly hidden beneath his hair, hard to notice unless you were looking for it.
That's not right. Why would his dad have the same scar as Harry? Same shape, nearly the same location.
Had it been there before?
No... it hadn't...
In an instant, Neville was stunned. He sat there blankly, his expression shifting from one emotion to another.