Harry laughed with Neville. He couldn't help himself and he replied, "Honestly, I worried the same." He clapped the other man on the back and then moved across the room to make himself a cup of hot tea. He never seemed to adjust to the cold of November in the castle. He thought for a moment, "You know, I think you're right. I only ever remember Tom behind the counter, and somehow also serving tables, and there was always hot food coming from the kitchen. I did once meet a cleaning witch on the second floor when I stayed there a little bit before a term started. Maybe sixth year? Fifth?" He shook his head, "I can't quite remember."
He finished making his tea and brought it back over to where Neville sat. "I should probably get back, I have a floo call with Williamson about a case, actually." He had lost track of time, something that was an unfortunate habit of his.
"Let me know if you want to brainstorm essay alternatives?" He asked, feeling all the world like a nearing-50-years-old Professor. He made a face and laughed, "Good Godric, we sound so old," and with a smile and a wave, he headed back out the portrait hole, pushing his glasses up his nose as he stepped through.