Augusta Longbottom was visiting her son and daughter in-law. She was holding the hand of her son, Frank, who was lying on his bed while his wife Alice was walking around by his side. Suddenly the two were both upright and wide-eyed, frightening the usually unflappable Augusta.
Frank spoke for the first time in 14 years, “Neville will need a new wand”, and he said looking at his flabbergasted mother, “Tell him Thank-you”, finished Alice before she collapsed on top of her husband’s body.
The nurse ran in and pronounced them dead. The two appeared to be smiling. Happy over the fact that they had finally been released.
Augusta, though, had no time to mourn. The witch on duty, who had just declared her son dead had put a hand on her shoulder as the sound of the emergency sirens roared of new arrivals.
Augusta (both mourning and terrified) knew one of those new arrivals was her grandson as a tear slipped down her cheek.
In a trancelike state she allowed the nurse to guide her down to emergency.