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Professor Neville Longbottom (profplant) wrote in silverage,

"In more ways than you know. He's head of the Auror department. We worked there together, but I wasn't as good at it as him- he's a born natural, Harry. He taught me everything I know about Defense, our fifth year, when he started the DA-" he caught the confusion on her face and smiled, ducking his head again. "Sorry. We had this teacher, she refused to let us use actual magic in the classroom and we needed to learn, Voldemort was coming back and we needed to be ready to fight. So Harry, he and Hermione and Ron, they formed the D.A.- Dumbledore's Army. They taught anyone who showed up, I learned how to cast a Patronus, shield jinxes, all that. Saved my life more than a few times." He was worried he was talking too much. Was he talking too much? He wanted to tell her about Harry- he wanted to tell her everything. After all, she'd never get to see her son grow up, never get to see everything he would do.

"So, Lupin, he's here? And- and Snape. How old are they, then? Here? How old are you? I mean, I'm twenty-six, no. No, I'm twenty-seven now." He tried not to let the contempt he felt for Snape come out in his voice. Harry might say that the man was a war hero, but that didn't excuse all the years of torture. At thirteen, when the world was relatively safe, Snape was the thing in the world he was most afraid of. As he got older, killed Dumbledore- the man was useless. He let the Carrow's do everything they did to the children at Hogwarts, he let them torture-

Clenching his jaw, Neville shook his head and sighed. He couldn't go down this road. Even if this Snape hadn't started teaching yet, he was still the same bastard. "Do, do you want something to drink? I could get us some tea, it's good. The tea is good."