"Harry said that when he had children, he wanted to use your name as one of theirs," Neville said nervously. "The full name: Albus Severus Potter."
No one answered him.
Wasn't the normal reaction at a time like this supposed to be saying you didn't want your name placed alongside Dumbledore's and James Potter's surname?
"Professor?"
"I'm listening," he said impatiently.
"When was the last time you slept in a bed?"
"Mind your own business, Longbottom."
"Professor Sprout told me to take good care of the plants in the greenhouse. I think I ought to take good care of you too," Neville said, gathering his courage. "Otherwise, when she wakes up, she'll say I'm irresponsible."
"Thank you," he said wearily. "But I don't need it."
"I heard Charlotte say that you used forbidden magic. Are you still using Dark magic?"
"I don't care." He suddenly began to cry. "As long as it works, I don't care what method I use."
There it was again. Obsession with life and death made people lose their minds. If someone knew the secret to immortality, they would try it at any cost—especially Muggles without power.
"Maybe it's good that she still reacts," Neville said after hesitating for a long time. "My parents haven't reacted at all in all these years."
"Do you think that makes me feel better?"
"No, but I think you'll feel better if you aren't so alone." Neville walked over to the person he had once feared beyond measure and hugged him. "Like when I was hiding from Death Eaters in the Room of Requirement. At first, I was alone. Then more people came, and I wasn't so scared anymore."
"You want more people to suffer the same thing?"
"No, but I know there are other people going through the same