The weight shifted to Neville's stomach, becoming churning and ugly, a dread that would not be lifted. He listened intently, ignoring the tightness of his jaw. Neville rarely displayed a temper; he preferred to be easygoing and lighthearted. It was one of the reasons why he'd decided that being an Auror wasn't a good fit for him. He felt himself hardening into a person he didn't know, and definitely didn't trust. And here, again, he could feel it happening, and there was nowhere to go.
"Thanks for telling me," Neville said quietly. He sniffled again. "I should report this. You understand that, right?"
But he didn't want to. For all of his grand words and insistence that werewolves were monsters, it was harder to mean that while looking at someone that you genuinely cared about. "I want to start looking into Wolfsbane. I know you were secure last night, but if something happens to this compound and we lose whereever it is that you went, there will be more nights like last night."