(A/N: I don't own Harry Potter)

~ The Lost Boys ~

Harry was unprepared for Neville being this hyper. Between the greenhouse and the kitchens he had learnt that Rebecca Lynch was a seventh year Hufflepuff that had picked Neville to aid her on her final Herbology project; that Neville's gran had corns in her feet that bothered her but she absolutely refused to visit St. Mungo's to get them out, she only trusted the skills of some ridiculously named woman who refused to make a home visit; that Neville was completely blowing off studying for his potions exam because he knew that Snape would fail him anyways; that the boy was quite upset with Hermione Granger for snapping at him yesterday afternoon; and that nobody had any idea what had happened at the end of the tournament.

It was quite satisfying when Neville gasped at tickling the portrait, and even more satisfying to watch him stuff a roll into his mouth and begin eating at a pace that put Ron to shame. After all, silence is golden when one is deprived of it for a long period of time. The food also brought Harry the welcome opportunity to feel more awake and alive after the confusing morning. Beginning their gorging brought them into contact with the house elves, who were only too excited at having someone to feed.

"Mr. Harry Potter and Mr. Neville Longbottom! We's so happy to see you!"

Harry waved them off, "Yes, it's good to see you guys too."

"Do you needs any biscuits?"

"Eggses! You must have eggses!"

"Oh, I is so sorry for stepping on your feet!"

Rolling his eyes, Harry looked back to see Neville still standing near the door and buttering up a scone. Harry absently patted the head of an elf as he reassured the contrite creature, "It's alright. I'm fine. I think we're covered on the biscuit front. Some eggs would be lovely, could I have an omelet with hash browns and cheese? I know we had lovely potatoes last night." Nodding as the elves took off excitedly at his design, Harry wondered exactly how the elves got to their present lifestyle. Harry raised his voice to get Neville's attention, as the boy seemed quite content to consume the entirety of the bread and pastry stocks, "Neville, what do you want for breakfast?"

One large - and somewhat painful too, if Neville's cringe was any indication – swallow later, and the other boy responded, "I've never ordered breakfast here at Hogwarts, I'm quite happy with these scones mate."

Stalking back across the room, Harry repeated one of Petunia's favorite phrases, "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day." Harry was a bit distressed by how strange Neville was behaving, and had begun to wonder if his roommate was a bit freaked out by the problems from the Triwizard Final. A simple scratch of the ear and Harry found his voice again, "Why don't we sit down, and you can figure out what you fancy for breakfast."

Neville nodded, taking a third scone and following Harry to the table down in the kitchens. The Hogwarts kitchens did not seem to be completely designed with their current cooks in mind, as there appeared to be a quite extensive cafeteria kitchen down here. Most of the countertops and furniture was made with humans in mind, and Harry wondered if this was some sort of oversight or if they were simply inconsiderate. Seeing some hard-boiled eggs, he made a quick grab for two of them, "I can take some, right?" Receiving consent was also authority to take one more, before taking a seat at the small table off to the side.

"Boiled egg?" Neville nodded and took one, already reaching for the butter knife and fixing up his scone with some marmalade.

Eggshells were kind of a pain to peel off, but Harry set to the task with no small amount of skill. Aunt Petunia could only supervise the kitchen for so much of the day, and it was a quick fix to boil an egg or two for an afternoon snack. Dudley could usually be trusted to stay silent, provided he was paid off with something or other. The malicious relationship of their childhood did little to curry friendship between the two, but Dudley's inherent dislike of cleaning his room had led to several occasions where the Dursley allowed himself to be bribed in exchange for Harry cleaning his room.

Neville seemed to be captivated by his scone, and Harry vaguely wondered if scones were such a rarity at Hogwarts that they could be a coveted item. "Do we get scones often?"

"Nope, only on Sunday breakfasts…" Neville slumped, a little bit disappointed, "Usually I'm not up in time to get any."

Harry shrugged, fairly indifferent to the kinds of pastry that were featured for the morning snack. "So what do you think of the Hogwarts kitchens?" He waved his arms around, letting out an expletive - "Bugger!" - as he accidentally dropped his second egg. Dusting it off, he turned his face back to the content Longbottom.

"Smashing, I never knew that we were allowed," Neville finished off his scone and looked around, "Can we get a cuppa down here? Or is that…" He trailed off as his question was answered by action, an elf whisking a pot of tea and two mugs in front of them. "Wow, they're amazing…" He made a distressed face before he went on, "Gran's told the elves at home that they're not to bring me snacks anymore, and I'm not allowed to go into the kitchens."

Harry shook his head in understanding, "Don't worry about it, back home my aunt barely ever lets me get snacks."

Neville's jaw dropped, "Really?"

"Yeah, I usually have to sneak it when they're out of the house or in another room," Harry rubbed his forehead, blushing red about his family. He brightened up then, "But Mrs. Weasley is nice about it, unless it's right before lunch or dinner."

Neville's expression went to a sad sort of smile, and Harry wondered if the boy was ever invited to friends' houses. "Do you ever visit anybody over the summer? Seamus and Dean always talk about it, and Parvati and Lavender are usually attached at the waist…"

Harry trailed off as Neville shook his head. Rubbing the back of his neck, Harry wondered how to get out of this awkward conversation. "Did you ask for anything yet? Or were you still thinking it over?" He queried, trying to restart the stalled conversation.

"No, but I'd love some bacon and eggs. Sausages too, if it's no trouble," Neville looked anywhere but at Harry, hoping that the elves heard him.

Leaning back, Harry caught the eye of an elf, "Do you have sausages?"

"Yes sirs, we do have sausages. Your omelet is almost ready and his will be done in a few minutes." The elf nodded excitedly, happy to be serving someone. "Will you need anything else from us?"

Harry looked back at Neville, who shook his head, "No thanks, I think that'll be everything. Thanks for everything." Pausing for a moment, Harry realized that they just had tea to drink, "Oh, wait! Could we get some orange juice?" Grinning at the assent, Harry thanked them and turned back to the table.

"So how'd you meet Rebecca?" Harry asked, looking for some way back into good standing with his roommate.

His head snapped back to Harry, and Neville let out protestations of innocence, "No, it's not like that. Please don't tell anyone about it, she'll have my hide if anybody finds out!"

Raising his hands, Harry tried to calm Neville down, "I didn't mean like that. I just meant to do the project. I was just curious."

"Oh," Neville sighed in relief. Taking a sip of his tea, Neville started cracking open his own egg and told the story, "We've known each other for years, my Gran is always visiting some friend or another." The Longbottom took a moment to eat half the egg, whilst Harry began cracking open his own egg. "Rebecca's grandmother takes care of her a lot, so I see her over the summers. I've always loved the greenhouse, so she taught me a lot about them since before I got into Hogwarts." Neville let out a breath and ate the rest of his egg, then continued, licking his fingers before he did so, "Nobody here really talks with the other years, so I haven't talked with her much during the school years. When she needed help on her final Herbology project she knew that I could help her out and asked Professor Sprout."

Harry nodded, that made a lot of sense. Neville always seemed like something of a natural when it came to Herbology, and it was one of the few classes that could be easily practiced out of school. "You learn much else before Hogwarts?"

Neville shook his head, "No… Since they weren't sure I was a wizard until so late, I wasn't allowed to do practice anything else really. Herbology can be pretty harmless." Harry's eyes widened at that idea, having seen the viciousness of the plants this morning. "So it was the only thing I really started, other than a little bit of Runes that I learnt in that last year."

Looking into Harry's eyes, Neville came out with an observation that surprised him, "You looked like you had some practice too, you've got steadier hands than any of the other third-years."

Embarrassed at the assessment, Harry knew that it was true, "My aunt's been having me do a lot of the gardening for years now."

Neville grinned, "See, it's not so bad. The girls are always complaining about the dirt and some of the guys spend Herbology staring out the windows, but it's a lot of fun."

Snorting, Harry chuckled as he realized that he and Neville had some things in common. He pointed it out, "I never thought that we had so much in common. Professor Moody said…" Harry went silent as he remembered exactly who Professor Moody had turned out to be. Barty Crouch Jr. was a death eater responsible for torturing Neville's parents to insanity. The man had held a spider under the Cruciatus Curse at the beginning of the year, likely watching Neville's reaction. He had falsely befriended Neville to help Harry in the tournament, and later had almost succeeded in killing Harry.

He was also dead.

Curiously watching Harry, Neville jumped when the elf appeared with their breakfasts. "Here you go my good sirs, ready to serve if you needs anything else. Harry barely noticed the arrival of their food.

"Professor Moody has been strange these last few days," Neville softly spoke, bringing Harry out of his stupor. "And he cancelled his exam for some reason." Beginning to eat, the boy watched Harry for a minute before continuing, "People are saying that something happened the night of the Triwizard Tournament, but nobody knows what it was."

Harry croaked out, "Really?" and then he poured himself a tall glass of orange juice and drank a little bit, clearing his throat. "I thought that a secret in this castle meant that everybody knew about it," Harry smiled wryly as he remembered Dumbledore's cheery words during first year. Harry choked on his juice as he remembered the exact circumstances leading up to that visit. Killing your first defense professor was something that someone probably should not have shrugged off so easily. Wiping his mouth with a handkerchief, Harry stared at the table absently, looking through the food like glass.

Neville reached across the table hesitantly, and then retracted his arm of comfort, afraid of the consequences. "You okay Harry?"

The lost look that Harry gave him was a definite reminder that Harry was not okay. Nonetheless, Harry lifted up his fork and started to cut him omelet with it. "I'll be alright, Neville," smirking softly, "We've got breakfast, I've already accomplished things this morning, and I don't have any exams to study for."

Neville frowned, annoyed at the other boy's boasting. Had he been less timid, he might have stuck his tongue out at Harry, but he settled for crinkling his brow before falling to his food with a vengeance. The pair ate in silence, the sounds of industrious house-elves filling up the background noise. Soft humming came from farther back in the kitchen, likely where the dishwashing was taking place. Harry peered around, but could catch nothing but stacks and stacks of plates waiting to be returned to their places. Despite visiting the kitchens numerous times, Harry could never remember exploring them very much. It appeared that several tunnels went off into parts of the school, though Harry was at a loss as to where they went.

A year and a half of owning the Marauder's Map, and yet Harry had never really explored the whole castle, basically using the map to get out of the school and to keep track of suspicious people. Fred and George would never let him live it down.

"Feel a bit better Harry?" Neville's voice brought the Potter from his musings.

Shaking his head, Harry murmured an apology, "Sorry, Neville. The last few days have been a bit rough."

The boy simply smiled, a little bit sad that Harry hadn't given up any secrets about the events of the past few days. He scrunched his face up in a thinking pose and then it was almost like a light went off in his head, "Whenever I have days like that, I work in the greenhouses."

A smile sparkled onto Harry's forlorn face, "Neville, aren't you always working in the greenhouse?"

Neville's face fell; he mumbled out, "We've got Potions every week, so I have a lot of those days."

Harry chuckled, "Snape's an arse. Don't let it get to you so much." And Harry frowned, "I didn't think you cared about Potions too much, I thought you were skipping out on studying for the exam?"

Anguish crossed Neville's face, "That's just 'cause Snape's always breathing down my neck. I'd really like to learn it!" The boy twitched his lips into a grimace, "I'm rubbish at most everything, can't use a wand to save my life, and don't have any idea what's going on the rest of the time."

Harry's face twisted into a sympathetic smile, "It's alright mate, I'm rubbish at Potions too." Harry held up his hand and looked up thoughtfully, "Along with Divination and History." He then shrugged, "Most of the time I only do well in Charms because I spend a bunch of time practicing them, like for the First Task. And Hermione saves me on most all of McGonagall's essays."

Neville looked at Harry, happy tears falling from his eyes, "Thanks mate, good to know that I've got company other than Ron at the bottom of the barrel."

Smirking, Harry leaned over conspiratorially, "Mate, I think we've got a ways to go before we pass Ron at the bottom. It's not like most of the other kids study for anything." Nodding his head proudly, "You've got Herbology covered, and I've got Defense down pat. Flitwick is pretty nice about everything, and McGonagall's fair."

A laugh interrupted his speech, and Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion, "I think Trelawney and Hagrid will grade at about the same level." Neville's hoots of laughter stopped him from continuing.

"Oi, I resent that! Hagrid's my friend," Harry jokingly reprimanded his compatriot. "You're right though, wouldn't be surprised if everybody except Malfoy and Parkinson get easy O's in the class."

Neville had calmed down by then, and cocked an eyebrow at Harry's class problems, "I don't know how you don't do well in History. I know that it's easy to fall asleep, but it's all there in the book if you look for it."

Shuddering, Harry rejected the idea, "Nope, not happening." He grinned at his own joke, "I fall asleep reading the book too."

Rolling his eyes, Neville turned on an easy smile and finished their commiserations, "And even if we're both pants at Potions, so is the rest of Gryffindor!"

"Other than Hermione," Harry nudged in there.

"Too right, but she doesn't count."

Harry grinned, "Maybe we should just give up on Potions, skive off to someplace else."

The gasp from Neville's mouth showed how incredibly shocking the idea was to him. He leaned forward and whispered, "Don't they take points for that?"

"I don't know, but it's not like we wouldn't be losing the points anyways by being there."

Neville scowled, "It wouldn't look too good on our grades, and the O.W.L. would be murder."

Laughing, Harry just gave an evil smirk, "You've got all summer to think about it, I know I'm going to."

"Just don't tell Hermione about it," Neville snorted, making a cutting motion across his throat.

Harry shivered, "Don't I know it."

The pair took a moment to just laugh together. It felt good for both of them, since school was often stressful – especially during the days when they had Potions. Perhaps it was more confusing for Neville, who was equal parts timid little squirrel and complete dork. Four years of living and going to classes with people seemed like it should make them more than passing acquaintances. Yet it was not so. Dean and Seamus were buddies. Harry and Ron were inseparable on their good days. Hermione had a better friendship with Lavender and Parvati than Neville really had with any of his roommates.

At the same time Harry could wonder how he never knew much about Neville. It wasn't like there was much else to do in Hogwarts. Harry only took one extracurricular, and wasn't a very diligent student. So how had it happened that Harry could hardly count the number of conversations he had with his roommate on both hands? Harry voiced a name quietly, a question on his lips, "Neville?"

"What?" Neville's soft tone matched Harry's shameful turn of thought.

"Why haven't we ever really talked?"

Neville shrugged, no answer rising to his mind.

Harry's eyes wandered into the distance, contemplating the situation as a whole. "Actually, why doesn't anybody really talk?"

Neville scrunched his brow, unsure of the question.

"I mean, it's not like we've got anything else to do," Harry rose to his feet, carefully picking up his plate and glass. Neville followed Harry's example, and they both went back to the dish room, lost in conflicting thoughts. Harry set his plate and glass next to an almost military house elf, he absently watched the dishes dance around the room in a comfortable rhythm. Another plate and glass set themselves next to his, as Neville awkwardly stood next to him in the dish room.

"Sirs need anything?" The dish elf asked.

Shaking their heads, the two boys backed out of the dish room and walked through the kitchen. They thanked the kitchen staff, which was mercifully shorter than their introduction, and began strolling down the hall. Silence permeated their walk, washing over them like a great wave, only to leave them wondering aimlessly through the ground floor. A great sunbeam touched upon them through a window, and they stopped to look out at the beautiful Hogwarts grounds. A minute passed looking out upon the lake, before Neville fidgeted.

An eye flickered over to his companion, and Harry started speaking in a far-away voice, "I'm going to die, and I think that I've been wasting my life."

Neville was speechless, his jaw dropped in astonishment at the proclamation. It wasn't something that one heard every day. He started to stutter out denials, but was cut off.

"Four years I've been here, and I barely know my roommate," Harry barked a laugh, his face twisting into a sad variety of smile. "Much less anybody else in this place," Harry continued, his shoulders falling in misery. Turning his head to the side, Harry saw Neville continuing to gape like a caught fish, and he smiled at his new friend. "I won't make that mistake anymore mate, not with the time I have left."

Scratching the back of his head, Neville felt a little bit embarrassed at the confession of guilt. "We've been friends Harry," Neville murmured.

A shake of the head was the best response Harry could give. "Not like classroom friends mate. I mean friends that are always there."

Neville shrugged, "You've got Ron and Hermione though, right?"

Lines creased into Harry's face at his wide grin, "You're right there." Nostalgically, Harry mused to himself, "The stories that we could tell…" And then Harry frowned, "But it's like you said, about Hermione and skipping classes." Grinning at his compatriot, Harry smirked, "Or how you and the twins skipped out on studying this morning. I don't know if Hermione would be in for all that, no matter how much fun it would be."

A helpless smile crossed Neville's face, "You never know unless you ask." He shook his head and turned away, "Don't throw that away unless you're sure about it."

Harry looked at the ground, as if waiting for it to swallow him up. "You're right." He dropped to sit underneath the window, in the little bit of darkness cast by the high morning sun. He looked back up at Neville, seeing the other boy angled away from him. Friendship is never something easy to push away, even if you know it's the right thing to do. Neville proved again why he was in Gryffindor.

And Harry understood why he deserved to know.

"Hey Neville, what did you think of this year?"

Neville spun back around slowly, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. He sniffled for a second before responding, "I don't know, it wasn't too bad for me." He looked at Harry nervously, squinting through the sunlight, "I think yours went pretty bad though."

Surprised at his friend's honesty, Harry stayed silent for a moment. When he spoke, it started out strong and faded to a dry, raspy tone. "How about," Harry swallowed, clearing his throat, "Professor Moody?"

"He was a bit off," Neville shrugged, raising eyebrows in confusion, "But he was better with curses than Professor Lupin." Neville went quiet at the end, haunted eyes remembering the curses cast at the beginning of the year.

Harry spoke quietly, "If I told you that Moody was a fake, would you believe me?"

"Only somebody crazy would impersonate Mad-Eye Moody…" Neville trailed off at Harry's downcast face, and he nodded after a second.

"At the end of the summer, somebody broke into Moody's house and locked the real one into his own trunk. Then the fake spent the whole year drinking Polyjuice Potion and buggering with the tournament." Harry swallowed, almost done with his summary. "He did it to get Voldemort resurrected, and after I got back that night, he took me to his office and tried to kill me. Dumbledore showed up and stopped him. Snape brought up some Veritaserum and they had him confess everything."

Neville looked at Harry in horror and confusion. Remembering the school year and the spiders made more sense, but Neville still didn't know why Harry was telling him about it.

"Why are you telling me about all this?"

Harry went silent, knowing that wondering would be worse than understanding. "The Death Eater who did it all, he was one of the ones that…" Harry lost his ability to speak, his throat closing up.

Kneeling in front of him, Neville finished the identification quietly, "Crucio'd my parents."

His hands shaking, Neville waited for a moment, somewhat unfamiliar with the feelings coursing through his veins. He had never quite understood the strong emotions that many Gryffindors portrayed so well. Most of his effort was put into avoiding conflicts and confrontations, rather than inciting or participating within them. He put up with people from every house mocking him, his grades, his potions performance, and the disgrace that he brought upon purebloods everywhere. No one had ever made any jest against his parents, at least not directly. There were lines that people didn't cross, and even if they were assured that Longbottom was a comedy with a wand, a satire with a broomstick, and a tragedy whilst using a cauldron; it didn't change the fact that some things would be punished severely.

It was with no small confusion that Neville found himself gripping Harry's collar and slamming the other boy into the wall. "Who? Who was it? How?" He screamed, his voice echoing down the hallways.

Tears streamed down Neville's face as he yelled incoherent things at Harry, enraged at the idea of one of his parents torturers running free within the school. Harry's voice came as a wash of noise to his ears, ears that heard nothing in his haste to pick out a name from the ramblings of his roommate. He screamed out the names of the Death Eaters in a circular rant, never caring for who would hear them.

Harry was afraid. It was a familiar feeling, as Harry was afraid of a lot of things. He had never expected to be afraid of Neville Longbottom. This was darkness inside Neville, bottled up for years and years, and Harry had been the poor fool to let it out. When Neville fell away from him, stumbling to the ground in exhausted grief, Harry found himself falling to the floor in ashamed silence. Anger, rage, anguish, misery, suffering…Neville had something within himself that was showing through, and Harry had never expected to see anything like this. In shock, Harry sat and simply watched in silence, unsure of how to deal with this. There was no comforting that Harry could understand. Comforting the Diggorys and Cho had been different; it had been about a mutual feeling of discontent and helplessness at the death of a companion. This was something that Harry was at a loss to deal with.

"Potter! Longbottom!" Snape's voice came from nearby them in irritation and rage.

Harry sprung to attention, and he swiftly tugged Neville up to his feet beside him. The other boy was still fairly listless with grief, so Harry made it his goal to keep Snape focused on him. Fear rippled through his bones as he tried to think of any excuse for their current appearances.

Nothing came to mind.

"Is there a problem here?" The professor's voice was more worn than it usually was, sounding tired and sick instead of its usual condescending sound.

Harry and Neville shook their heads, though Neville was noticeably slower beside him. Snape's dark eyes bored into them, shifting between them as though waiting for an explanation. "Nothing sir, just talking about the school year," Harry took the cue, providing what was technically a correct assessment of their conversation; though their disheveled appearance pointed to some sort of mischief.

Snape raised an eyebrow slowly, "And this – talking, as you call it – resulted in the name 'Bellatrix Lestrange' being screamed down the hallway?"

Eyes shifted to Neville, and Harry discovered that the other boy was carefully examining the floor, likely still distracted by the revelations of the past few minutes. Harry swallowed hard and nodded to Snape.

Watching the two boys for a moment, Snape paused and seemed thoughtful. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for creating a disturbance," He swiftly returned to form, taking the opportunity to work on the house points. The seemly aged man stalked past them, on his way somewhere else in the castle, likely to impose his wrath upon other students.

They stood there, breathing softly as the tense atmosphere around them seemed to diffuse and warp after Snape's interruption. A great weight had been lifted off their shoulders with Snape's assault, and they were feeling the tension return now that he had left. Neville leaned up against the wall of the corridor and slid to the ground slowly. Harry just looked down the hall, watching the Potions Master's cloak flutter along the hallway. As it turned a corner, he looked back to his teary-eyed compatriot and wondered if he had made a mistake.

"Crouch," Harry spoke after taking a deep breath. "It was Mr. Crouch's son."

Neville shook a little bit, his body rocking in some emotional turmoil. He covered his face with his hands and mumbled to himself softly, "No. No. No. No."

Harry opened his mouth for a second, trying to come up with words for the events. He closed his mouth again, thinking over what he had told Neville, and he realized that he had never mentioned what happened to the Death Eater, "Dementors kissed him the other night, so he's dead." Harry shook his head firmly, "I don't know if that makes it any better, after everything that's happened…" Harry trailed off as Neville began speaking.

"Barty Crouch Jr. died years ago, in Azkaban. How could he be here?" The voice was muffled a bit, as though it came through clenched teeth.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, "That's not quite true. His mum was dying, so she convinced Mr. Crouch to switch them during one of the visits. She drank Polyjuice Potion until she died in prison, and her son lived at home under an invisibility cloak."

Neville looked like a lost puppy as he looked up at Harry with an incredulous expression. The disbelief in his eyes was evident, and there was a little part of Harry that wished the story was a lie. That way Neville wouldn't look at him with that desperate look. One of his parents' torturers had been alive and well, not being punished for the crime of using the Unforgivable Curse of Pain to drive another human being to insanity. Neville knew about the curse, and he had made an effort to study it. If he ever wanted to understand his parents' illness it was required to know what caused the injuries in the first place. The mental scarring from that act of violence upon their being was so great that they would never be more than murmuring patients in a mental ward.

Harry looked away from Neville's eyes, trying to construct some kind of resolution. "He's dead now though. Mr. Crouch Sr. too. He killed his father the night that Mr. Crouch showed up here in the forest."

Neville just sat there, his face slack and exhausted with the effort expended this morning. He looked at the floor, since there was really nothing that Harry could offer him to help with this. One of his parents' torturers had died the other night, but it was one that was already supposed to be dead. "I…I don't…I don't know what to think," he softly whispered, just loud enough for Harry to hear. Running a hand through his hair, he continued, "I had always thought that he was dead, and to know this is just…"

The two boys waited in the silence following their pronouncements for a minute, awkwardly waiting for some sort of resolution to interrupt them. They didn't know where to go from here, but there was some sort of understanding between them.

"Harry," Neville spoke up finally, catching the other boy's attention. "Could I just be alone for a bit?"

Nodding his head, Harry shifted on his feet nervously, "Of course. I didn't know…" he trailed off for a second, "Well I didn't know anything. But I thought that I should tell you about him."

Neville brought his head up and down, not really passing a judgment on Harry's choice. Harry went on, "I'll just visit McGonagall or something." After a bloody mess of a morning for both of them, Harry picked the destination of his head of house fairly randomly. "If you want to talk, just leave me a note or something on my bed." Neville didn't really move, but Harry got the feeling that he understood. "See you later."

As Harry walked down the hall, he heard a cracking voice speak up with one word.

"Thanks."