Neville and Britta sat together at the Three Broomsticks later that evening, drinking warm, sapid Butterbeers. "Like Gilderoy Lockhart?" Britta giggled.

"Well, gee, he was, after all, gifted," Neville said jokingly.

"If only we'd had DA then, too."

"It's amazing we kept it going so long as we did last year," he said, wide-eyed. "Umbridge was a nightmare."

"Filch didn't think so."

He smiled at it.

"Are you okay?" Britta asked. "You seem a bit…"

"Well, yeah," Neville quietly replied. "I'm fine."

"Gran okay?"

"Yes, she's…" Neville began. "I just saw something more than a little disturbing, is all."

"Oh," Britta said somewhat questioningly.

"Will you promise me not to tell anyone?" Britta nodded. Neville looked around to be sure none of the noisy crowd were listening. He leaned close to her ear and her eyes went wide.