"That about sums it up." Harry admitted to Neville's repeated use of the word 'Shite'. Not knowing what elst to do, he went to his knees in front of Neville and dug into the bottom of the bag that held the drinks. Ah, there it was. He pulled out a quill and bottle of ink, setting them carefully atop the journal. "Go ahead and ward it, mate." He encouraged gently. Sure, probably half their friends had already read the very private entry. But it might make Neville feel just a tiny bit better if it didn't continue to be public.
"I'm so sorry about your mum, Nev." He said after a few long moments of silence. "I understand why you didn't want to talk about her that night, at the Leaky. I didn't mean to push, but my offer to help still stands."