Date: 2007-05-26 08:15 pm (UTC)
Harry grinned. "Don't let Hermione hear you say that or else you'll end up with a two-hour lecture on house-elf rights." Not that a house-elf ever needed bullying to do something like that. All one needed to do was whisper the word 'pizza' and ten of them would be swarming around, each one with a different ingredient, and in five minutes, give or take, there'd be a hot, tasty pizza waiting.

His mind refused to leave what Lily had said about the prophecy and the Longbottoms, and so as they walked down the corridor, he said, "I know their son. Mr and Mrs Longbottom, I mean. Their son, Neville - he's in my class." Or he was. Harry didn't know where Neville was right now. Probably researching herbs of the coastal plains of Zimbabwe. (This thought showed how poor wizarding education was when it came to geography: Zimbabwe is a landlocked country with plateaus, not plains.)

"We - we're friends, actually." Harry hesitated slightly in saying that, simply because it had taken him a few years to realise it. But it was true. Neville was good hearted and loyal, and he had supported Harry during some of the times he had needed it the most. "And sometimes I wish Voldemort had chosen him, too."

Then he shrugged. "But it's too late. And I'm going to do what I have to do."
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