Chapter Sixty-Eight - The Unforgivable Curses

They set aside any discussion of the Triwizard Tournament the following day after receiving their class schedules. Harry was disappointed to see that Potions was not on the schedule until Wednesday. He had been looking forward to prying Snape for information about his mother, but for now it would have to wait. Instead, they made their way to an early Transfiguration class with Professor McGonagall.

She spent most of the period explaining cross-species switches and introducing them to the guinea fowl they would be transfiguring to guinea pigs later in the term. However, toward the end of the class, she took a moment to publicly commend Millie on her successful completion of the animagus ritual.

"Perhaps Miss Bulstrode would give us a demonstration of her new skill?" she suggested.

Millie, unused to the spotlight, turned a violent shade of red, though she rose obediently from her seat. Prior to her registration, the only people who had been aware that Millie was an animagus had been those present in Dumbledore's office at the end of third year. Now the rows of Slytherin students turned to Millie with curious expressions, while quiet whispers flitted around the room. Harry suspected that Millie was somewhat relieved when she transformed and soared high above their heads. Her feathers would conceal her blush. That shyness was soon forgotten as she continued to show off her light, agile form. She made a few circuits around the room to appreciative oohs and ahhs from her classmates before coming to alight on Professor McGonagall's outstretched arm.

The professor bestowed one of her rare smiles on Millie and announced to the class, "Although Miss Bulstrode had achieved this transformation last year, there was no opportunity to award her points on her success until now. I award Slytherin House fifty points for her dedication to the task."

Her face then resumed its usual stern expression, and she quickly added that the process is extremely difficult, and should never be attempted without proper supervision by a witch or wizard who had already mastered the skill. While continuing to praise Millie, she warned them all against making a similar attempt without first consulting their professor. She looked particularly at Harry and Blaise while she was speaking.

Before lunch, they headed down to Hagrid's cabin for Care of Magical Creatures. The Gryffindor students had arrived already, having walked across the grounds from the Herbology greenhouses. They were standing a healthy distance away from several large crates full of the strangest creatures Harry had ever seen.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts, I call 'em," Hagrid announced proudly, "Beautiful, ain't they?"

Harry was fond of Hagrid, but he had a propensity to adopt dangerous beasts. It was difficult for Harry to find something kind to say about the Skrewts. They looked like an infernal cross between a scorpion and a lobster. It was the kind of creature that would be comfortable scuttling along an ocean floor and the very lowest depths.

"What is that big oaf thinking?" Draco Malfoy complained to Crabbe and Goyle as they tried, unsuccessfully, to figure out what a Skrewt ate. "It's bad enough we have to look at the things. How does he expect us to care for them?"

He spoke loudly enough to be overheard by Hagrid, which was clearly his intention. Draco had no respect for Hagrid as a professor, nor even as a person with feelings. Apparently, he was not alone. His comment had been observed by Ron Weasley, who was working with two of his own friends not far away. Ron's back had been turned toward Draco as he tried to discern which end of a Blast-Ended Skrewt blasted. He had not seen who voiced the complaint, but that did not stop him from adding, "Exactly! Where did he even find these things?"

"He probably bred them himself!" Draco continued.

Ron jumped back in surprise as his Skrewt fired a small ball of flame from one end. "But that's illegal!" he whined.

Ron started to say something about his dad working for the Ministry, just as Draco started a sentence beginning with the words, "My father…" Then they both stopped, noticing for the first time who they had been speaking with. They looked astonished to see there was something they both agreed on. Harry might have found their confusion funny, if he hadn't noticed that the small bit of Hagrid's face visible above his beard had turned a bright red. He was busy helping two Gryffindor students with their Skrewt, though it was clear he had heard their comments.

"I think they're really cool," Harry said, making sure to raise his voice. He directed a pointed look at Millie and Blaise, who were quick to chime in.

"Yeah, they're really… unique," Blaise said, clearly struggling to find something positive about the hideous creatures.

Millie prodded their Skrewt gently with the tip of her wand. The creature emitted a loud bang and one of its ends ignited, sending it a few feet in front of them, "Yeah! Did you see the distance we got on that one?"

"They're dangerous!" Ron challenged, "Do we really want to repeat last year? That hippogriff could have killed Malfoy!"

Draco raised his brows in surprise that a Weasley was coming to his defense, but he rolled with it and joined forces with the Gryffindor, adding, "It's so obvious he doesn't even know how to care for them. He expects us to figure it out on our own!"

"Yeah, it's irresponsible teaching!"

"Oh, stop complaining! Both of you!"

They all turned to see Hermione Granger marching up to them, a timid Neville in tow. Her hair was a bit frizzier than usual, and Harry detected a slight odor of burnt hair where a stray blast had singed her ends. But she had somehow managed to fix a short leash round the middle of her skrewt, and it scuttled along the ground quietly enough, but for the occasional burst of flame. Apparently, the blasts came from both ends.

"While you were busy bickering, Neville and I already got ours harnessed," she pointed out, tossing her bushy brown hair proudly, "If all you want to do is slack off, can't you do it a little more quietly?"

It seemed that Ron and Draco's short alliance was at an end. Ron glared at Hermione and said something about her being bossy, though he turned back to his own group, ready to face ridicule from his friends for being told off by Granger. Draco did not seem as willing to give up the fight. He stared at Hermione with open disgust and looked as if he was going to say something hurtful to her. Harry, having shared a dorm with him, knew what opinion Draco had about people who were muggleborn, like Hermione. Anticipating that Draco would resort to his favorite slur, Harry quickly intervened.

"Draco! Your Skrewt! It set your robes on fire!" he shouted in alarm.

Draco jumped backward in surprise, accidentally trodding on his Skrewt, which let out a squeal and another blast, this time in defense. It didn't actually set Draco's robes ablaze, but it was enough to bring Hagrid over to check on his progress.

"Thanks for helping us shut him up," Harry said to Hermione with a smile.

"What's their problem, anyway?" Hermione asked.

"They don't like me," Harry said, "And Hagrid… that is, Professor Hagrid is a friend. I think they bully him to irritate me."

"Well, I think that's childish," Hermione declared, "And totally not how I would expect a Gryffindor to behave. Maybe I'll have a talk with Professor McGonagall about Ronald's behavior…"
"Don't worry about it," Harry replied hastily. He didn't want things going farther than they already had. Besides, if what Draco and Ron said was true and Hagrid had bread the Skrewts himself, Harry didn't want to get him in trouble. Instead, he asked Hermione and Neville how their morning classes had gone.

Neville brightened up considerably. He had been mute until then, but Herbology was his favorite subject. He enthusiastically described the bubotubers they were working with that term. Harry couldn't help but notice the look of nausea that crossed Hermione's face as Neville described the yellow-green pus they were expected to harvest from the plant.

"I think I prefer the Skrewts, actually," Hermione admitted.

"But the pus is very valuable!" Neville insisted, "You can use it for all kinds of potions and salves. Though it can be harmful if not properly processed first, so you'll have to be careful not to get it on your bare skin."

Blaise looked deliberately at Neville's hands as he said this. He seemed impressed that Neville was, for once, not speaking from personal experience. His hands were rash free. That is, until one of the Skrewts let out a bang and fired a bit of hot cinder from one of its ends, singeing the cuff of Neville's robes.

Blaise shrugged and said, "Well, I hope that bubotuber pus can be used for burns."

After class, Hermione and Neville walked with Harry, Blaise, and MIllie back to the castle. Harry wondered aloud if all of their classes were going to have such interesting specimens that term.

"I suppose wand-making will be calm as usual," Harry said to Hermione, "Unless Nobilis has us try crafting a staff from one of the branches of the Whomping Willow."

Hermione gave him an embarrassed smile as she admitted that she would not be returning to their wand-making class that year.

"You dropped out of a class?" Blaise gasped in surprise.

"Well I had to do something!" Hermione argued, "After the fiasco we had last year, I decided to be more selective about my courses."

Last year, Hermione had attempted to take every elective at once. It resulted in her getting special permission to use a Time-Turner, a device that would allow her to travel backward and forward through time, thus accomplishing what should have been impossible - being in two places at once. Harry lamented the loss of the Time-Turner, as it would have been very interesting to see what sort of hijinks they could get into, armed with it, his invisibility cloak, and the Marauder's Map. Still, he was glad to hear Hermione was going easier on herself this year. She had started to cave under her workload, and Neville had been on the point of asking Harry to stage an intervention.

Hermione and Neville remained with their Slytherin friends throughout their lunch break. Harry would have gladly joined them at the Gryffindor table for a change, but Hermione and Neville were still the only students of the rival house who did not view Harry with suspicion.

"So what classes are you taking this year?" asked Harry as they took their seats.

"Arithmancy and Ancient Runes," Hermione reported with a happy smile.

"Then it looks like we'll be in the same class again this year," remarked Millie. It was impossible to tell from her tone if she was pleased or disappointed by the prospect of seeing more of Hermione.

"Isn't it a fascinating subject?" Hermione said with excitement, "But I really think Arithmancy is just as interesting…"

Their meal complete, it was soon time to go their separate ways. Hermione and Millie made their way toward Ancient Runes, while Blaise and Neville pursued a different path to Muggle Studies. Harry, alone now, began to climb the many stairs to Professor Nobilis's classroom.

He reflected that he would miss having the class with Hermione, but he was glad he stuck with the course. After all, it had enabled him to craft a wand for Sirius last year. The topic itself was interesting, and Harry seemed to have a knack for it. Sirius's wand rarely set anything on fire these days, and he had told Harry that he thought it was getting used to him.

Professor Nobilis's classroom was airy and light. It always smelled faintly of sawdust and pine. Harry was not the first to arrive. He looked around, searching for a familiar face, secretly afraid that without Hermione he wouldn't have a single friend in the room. He was disappointed to see very few students from class last year, though he was surprised to see many more he did not recognize.

Wand-making was not a popular course. Due to the lack of interest, the class was necessarily composed of students from all four houses. Even then, the classroom size was small, and that had not changed. There were still students from all four houses represented, though more of the seats were filled than before. Harry realized that the new faces were upperclassmen. The class was composed of students ranging from fourth to seventh year.

Harry was at a momentary loss of where to sit. Even if he had formed friendships with the students in his own year, he realized that many of them, like Hermione, had dropped out. He recognized very few of the upperclassmen, and he did not see any Slytheirn students at all. Then he heard a voice call out to him, and turned to see a tall boy in Hufflepuff robes.

"Potter!" Come sit here!" he invited.

It was Cedric Diggory. Harry knew him only as a rival on the Quidditch pitch. He was a Seeker, like Harry, and captain of the Hufflepuff team. Diggory's invitation was therefore a surprise, though a welcome one, and Harry accepted it with thanks.

"I only see a couple of people who were in class with me last year," Harry commented, now that he had time to leisurely observe the classmates that were trickling in behind him.

"Wand-making is really difficult to master," Diggory replied, "most people drop out after the first year of it. I'm glad to see you here, Potter. I had no idea you were interested in wand-making!"

Harry was glad he had stuck with the class as well. It nice to talk with Diggory about something other than their Quidditch rivalry, and this year promised to be even more interesting than the last.

Tuesday passed without incident, and Wednesday morning brought about Double Potions with the Gryffindors. Although the Gryffindor and Slytherin students typically kept themselves strictly segregated, Harry and his friends arranged their seats to work as closely as possible with Hermione and Neville. But even Hermione's help and Harry's reassuring presence could not cure Neville of his crippling fear of Professor Snape. He melted his cauldron with a poorly brewed Pepperup Potion and earned himself detention as a result.

Harry, eager for any opportunity to wheedle information out of Snape with regard to his mother, attempted to copy Neville's failed technique. It did not succeed in melting his cauldron, though his potion was properly ruined. Snape, perhaps guessing Harry's design, did not reward him with the detention he sought. He merely ignored Harry's ploy for attention.

Harry was not the only person Snape seemed eager to avoid. It was well-known that Snape coveted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. He must have resented Moody, just as he had every professor before him. But unlike Quirrell, Lockhart, and Lupin, Snape shrank from criticising Moody openly. Harry assumed that Snape was too intimidated by the former Auror, and he had good reason. Moody was terrifying.

Harry had his first class with this imposing teacher later that afternoon. Moody began their lesson by stating that he had received a letter from their last professor. It explained that they had received a thorough foundation in dark creatures. Harry felt a great swell of pride as he listened to Moody's speech. Remus had been their professor last year, and he had been the only one in Harry's limited experience who was capable at his job.

Then Moody continued, "Unfortunately, you are all sorely lacking in fundamentals. Curses and counter curses, for instance… In these areas your education has been sadly inconsistent. You should have started training for duels starting your second year…"

Harry snorted, remembering Lockhart's failed attempt at a dueling club. He was probably the worst teacher of the bunch, even compared to Quirrell, who literally had Voldemort on the back of his head. Lockhart was currently on the run, wanted for fraud and unlawful use of memory charms. No one had seen him publicly since he fled from Hogwarts at the end of Harry's second year.

Moody's magical eye swiveled in his direction. Harry composed his features and carefully avoided its penetrating gaze. As much as he had desired attention from Snape, he was not eager to attract the same notice from Professor Moody.

Thankfully, Moody continued, either oblivious or indifferent to the interruption.

"Now then, I have one year to train you up, and get you prepared for what's out there…"

"One year?" interrupted Tracey Davis, with far more bravery than Harry possessed, "You mean you're not staying?"

"Job's cursed," Moody growled. He did not elaborate.

It was true that Harry's previous professors never spent longer than a year in this position. He had heard the rumors that the job was cursed, but he had never put much faith in that superstition. And yet Professor Moody had been an Auror. Harry supposed if anyone knew about curses, it was him.

"I intend to use my time to teach you the counter-curses and protection charms that will help you against attacks from other wizards," he explained.

Draco raised his hand but did not wait to be called on before he spoke, "Excuse me, sir. But will we be learning the curses themselves?"

Moody's magical eye landed on Draco before Moody turned his full attention on him. Harry saw his scarred lip curl disdainfully as he replied, "The Ministry doesn't want you kids learning curses until your sixth year. I'm not saying I agree with their methods, but…"

A gentle murmur of discontent rippled through the class, though it was instantly quelled by a rumble from Moody. As the class fell back into uncomfortable silence, only Millie had courage enough to observe, "If we don't know what we're up against, how will we know what spells to use to defend ourselves?"

Harry admired Millie for daring to disagree with their teacher, but he feared that Moody would do something nasty for being interrupted again. Instead, much to everyone's surprise, he cracked a crooked smile and said, "The best defense is a good offense, eh Bulstrode? I must say I agree. And fortunately for you, so does Dumbledore."

He turned his back on the class and waved his wand over the chalkboard. Words bloomed over the slate surface, the writing crabbed and uneven.

"Unforgivable Curses," Moody read aloud.

The class was silent, but there was a nervous, almost excited tension in the air. Moody turned his good eye back to Millie while the other continued its constant perusal of the room.

"Bulstrode, since you were so willing to volunteer, perhaps you can name one of the three?"

Millie hesitated only a moment before she recommended, "The Cruciatus Curse."

Moody considered her carefully before saying, "Correct. The Cruciatus Curse is also known as the Torture Curse. It is designed to inflict severe pain on the victim. It will not kill you, but it has been known to drive its victims mad… When used for an extended period of time."

Moody turned away from them and pulled a jar containing three large spiders from behind his desk. Reaching in, he pulled out one specimen, and cast a charm to make its size even larger. A few of the students seated near his desk pushed their chairs farther away, but the atmosphere of curious excitement had not abated. Perhaps Moody sensed this. His magical eye was rolling about wildly, inspecting each student in turn, though Moody himself appeared very calm. He seemed almost reluctant for what he would do next, and stopped to say, "I've been given special permission by Dumbledore to show you kids the effects of these curses, though I must warn you that under any other circumstance, use of any of these spells would land the caster in Azkaban for the rest of their life."

Once this admonition was complete, he pointed the wand at the spider and said, " Crucio! "

The effect was immediate. The spider began convulsing and twitching in the palm of his hand, large enough for even the students in the back of the class to see. The spider did not make a sound, but Harry could almost imagine it screaming in pain. The students who had craned their necks a moment before for a better look now sat back, some of them averting their eyes in horror at the sight.

Moody did not let the moment linger longer than necessary. As soon as he moved his wand away, the creature's frantic twitching subsided. It remained motionless on his palm, as if afraid to move lest it experience the same pain again.

"What next?" Moody said, waving his wand at the black board once more so that the words "Cruciatus Curse" appeared below the title.

The class, previously so keen for this lesson, was now reluctant to speak. Moody glanced toward Millie, who shook her head almost imperceptibly, unwilling to provide another example.

It was Draco who eventually raised his hand, "There's the Imperious Curse."

Both of Moody's eyes fixed themselves briefly on Draco before the magical one began its random scanning of the room again.

"Your name's Malfoy, isn't it? Yes… Your father would have told you all about that one, I expect."

Draco's face turned slightly pink at the implication, though Moody soon added, "It gave the Ministry a lot of trouble years ago. Many people accused of actions they would have never committed under their own will. But that is the danger of this curse. It takes away your will, making the victim powerless to do anything but what is directed by the caster. For example…"

Moody again pointed his wand at the spider and said, " Imperio! "

The spider showed no outward sign of discomfort, though the next moment Moody had commanded it to jump from his palm and onto his desk, where it performed a sort of eight-legged tap-dance, followed by cartwheels in circles. A few students laughed at the sight, but Harry felt queasy looking at all those legs moving about in unnatural ways. He thought suddenly of Aragog, the giant spider that Hagrid kept in the Forbidden Forest, and all of his many offspring. It wasn't a pleasant reminder.

"Laugh all you want," Moody growled, "But imagine if this was used against you. What if I told you to jump off a broom mid-flight, or put a curse on your whole family?"

The giggles immediately stopped. The faces of the students became grave.

Moody again moved his wand away. The spider attempted to scuttle away this time, apparently displeased with the way events had played out so far. Unfortunately for the poor creature, Moody immobilized it with a word.

"After You-Know-Who fell from power," Moody said into the silence that followed, "Many of those who apparently did his bidding came forward and claimed they had only acted under the effects of the Imperious Curse. Some were telling the truth. But the trouble is, how do you separate the liars?"

He let the question hang in the air, allowing the students to think about this as he moved his wand, and the words "Imperius Curse" flowed onto the board.

"One more," he said, his tone grim, "Who can tell me the third and final curse?"

No one spoke. Harry glanced around the classroom, shocked to see that everyone was staring at him. He wondered if he had done something wrong, and felt a thrill of fear run down his spine as he turned back and saw Professor Moody considering him with both eyes.

"Right," he said, no longer holding out for a volunteer, "The third and most horrible of the curses… The Killing Curse."

The words appeared on the board as Moody turned away. Harry sat, speechless as the rest of the class, as Moody turned back to the immobilized spider.

There was a collective intake of breath as Moody took aim, then he said, " Avada Kedavra! "

A flash of green light, and the spider froze, it's legs crumpling unpleasantly underneath it as it fell, dead.

"The other spells can be avoided, perhaps. In the case of the Imperious Curse, you can even learn to fight it off," Moody said into the shocked silence, "But there is no spell to block the Killing Curse. And the only person known to have survived it is sitting in this room."

After class, the oppressive silence of the classroom lifted, and the students made free to gossip amongst themselves of all they had witnessed. They were animated, as if they had just witnessed a stirring theatrical performance. Harry wasn't as cheerful. He kept thinking of the spider, lying crumpled and motionless on the desk. He wondered if it had been the same for his parents when they died.

He knew it must have been worse. Unlike the spider, Lily and James Potter had known what was coming for them. Harry had heard their voices last year when he faced the dementors. He knew his father had tried to hold Lord Voldemort at bay, that his mother lost her life defending him…

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Millie, who asked him if he was alright.

"I'll be fine," Harry said, struggling to put on a smile and failing. Millie seemed to understand, however, and allowed him to continue to the Great Hall in silence as they headed to supper.

The following day, he discovered that he was not the only student adversely impacted by Professor Moody's demonstration. The Gryffindors had their first class with him that morning, and Neville was badly shaken by the experience. Harry spotted him after class, sitting at the base of one of the moving staircases. Hermione was crouched by his side, trying to comfort him, but Neville didn't seem to hear her.

"It was Moody," Hermione said, the brief explanation enough for Harry to understand, "We were talking about the Unforgivable Curses and… And Neville mentioned the Cruciatus Curse…"
"I know," Harry replied, "We saw it yesterday."

Neville stirred then. He looked up into Harry's face and shakily said, "I hadn't seen what it did before… I just heard about it from… from Gran…"

He lowered his head again. Hermione was on the point of suggesting that they take him to the hospital wing, but Harry waved her off. He volunteered to stay with Neville for a bit, and Hermione, although unwilling to leave them behind, consented to head to the library with Blaise and Millie.

Harry wasn't sure what he was going to say to Neville, or if he should say anything at all. He waited in silence for Neville to begin again, certain that Neville had spoken to him for a reason. They sat in companionable silence for a long time, while other students made their way to their next class or back toward their common rooms. Eventually, the halls were deserted, and Harry's patience was rewarded.

"I was raised by my gran, you know," Neville began softly, "My parents… They were Aurors like Moody, you know? And they… They were captured by some of You-Know-Who's followers when he disappeared… They… They tortured them…"

Harry understood then why Neville spoke to him. Harry's parents were also victims of an Unforgivable Curse. But Moody had said that the Cruciatus Curse alone could not kill, only torture. Harry wondered what had happened to the Longbottoms, but he didn't want to force Neville to say anything he was not prepared to share. Instead, he continued to sit in silence, staring at his trainers and wondering what he could do to comfort his friend.

At that moment, Professor Moody came thumping down the stairs behind them, his steps uneven as he walked on his false leg. Harry wanted to be angry at the professor. It was him, after all, who had given the demonstration. He didn't need to show them what the curses could do. An explanation would have been enough. But he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but relief as Professor Moody addressed them both.

"Potter, Longbottom. Glad I ran into you both. Come along with me."

The ex-Auror led them to his office, which Harry remembered from Remus's tenure at the school. Whereas Remus had filled the space with books and tanks of strange creatures, Moody had decorated his office with odd artifacts and bizarre implements. Harry spotted a mirror with vague faces moving against a shadowed background, the purpose of which remained a mystery to him.

Harry expected that the professor wanted to talk to them about their reactions to the curses during his class. He was surprised when Moody actually invited them to join him for tea. Harry and Neville accepted the seats he offered to them and watched as the professor placed a rather old and dented pot over an enchanted flame. They were silent, both waiting for Moody to speak first.

"How is your godfather doing these days, Potter?" Moody inquired abruptly.

"You know Sirius?" Harry asked.

Moody gave a rough laugh and replied, "Know him! Yes, we go way back. I didn't arrest him, mind you. I never thought he did what they said. I've captured a lot of dark wizards in my time, and I can tell the difference between an innocent man and a guilty one."

Neville was turning his teacup around in his hands while they talked. He hadn't tasted his tea. Moody observed him in silence for a moment before addressing him next.

"Longbottom, I don't know if you're aware of this, but I used to work with your parents."

Neville's head snapped up. He looked at Moody with wide eyes, his lips forming words he wasn't capable of uttering in that moment. Moody's expression was kind. It softened the hard lines of his face.

"Frank and Alice were two of the bravest people I ever met. I'm not surprised you're in Gryffindor. You take after them."

Neville gave him a weak smile, then glanced down into his teacup again. He took a sip and gave a sigh, "Thank you, but I'm not like them. A Gryffindor is supposed to be brave, but when I saw the way that spider…"

"That's not true!" Harry blurted. The mention of the spider brought back his memories of Aragog again, and he remembered that he hadn't been alone at that time.

"Neville, you practically saved my life, remember? We went into the Forbidden Forest and faced a ton of giant spiders. I never would have made it out of there without you! And there was the time you and Hermione used the polyjuice potion to see if I was the Heir of Slytherin... Do you really think a coward could do all that?"

He might have gone on to sing more of Neville's praises, but then he realized that he had just admitted to breaking a few school rules in front of a teacher. He quickly glanced at Moody, and was relieved to see that the professor was still smiling.

"I can tell you're James's boy," Moody said with a hearty chuckle, "You're exactly like him, I don't mean just your looks. Listen to your friend, Longbottom. He wouldn't lie to you."

In the end, Moody did not mention the Unforgivable Curses at all. He entertained Harry and Neville with a few more observations about each of their parents. To Neville, he was a wealth of welcome reminiscences. But to Harry, the information he shared was more vague. He wouldn't mention how he'd known the Potters, or why he had been so sure of Sirius' innocence. Harry made a mental note to write to Sirius later and ask him about his connection to the Ex-Auror.

He was busy composing this letter in his head when they finally left Moody's office, then Neville addressed him.

"Harry… Do you think… Can you keep what I said about my parents to yourself?" he asked, "It's just… I don't think I'm ready to share it with anyone else yet."

"Of course," Harry reassured him. By the time they parted ways, heading to separate common rooms, Neville was completely back to normal.