Neville, open
He'd been in the castle, in the castle in the past for three weeks now. No one had worked out a way to get them home, and it was becoming increasingly difficult not to go on about these people's futures.
He'd occasionally attempted to work out the paradox of them being here. If they did change something, would people wink out of existence? If he told his parents to watch out for the Lestranges after the Potters were killed, would they be sane when he went back to his own time?
If they ever got back. But they had to get back, didn't they?
Wearing a mostly confused expression, Neville wandered into the hall. He bumped into someone's back, blushing slightly. "S-sorry," he mumbled to them.