"Neville!" Dean turned toward the familiar voice with a bright smile, holding his hand out to shake and then pulling Neville instead into a tight, one armed, back-patting sort of hug. He let him go after just a moment, laughing.
"Too long, mate. Congratulations! Look at you, Head of Gryffindor. I don't know, I think I'd imagined you having aged thirty more years or so before I could call you that."