Comfort

Neville showed a little resistance to entering Hermione's private room. He stood at the door, not daring to look inside, but Professor Dumbledore had thoroughly abandoned him, seemingly forgetting why he had brought him here.

"Come in, Neville—"

But Hermione seemed very enthusiastic. After all, he was the only classmate she had seen in the two weeks she had spent at St Mungo's. She had Neville sit on the stool Sirius usually occupied, then walked over to the coat rack in the room. As she rummaged through the pockets of the robe hanging there, she asked eagerly,

"Quick, tell me, Neville, how is everyone at school? Has anything happened while I've been away?"

"Oh, not bad. Everything at school is normal—"

Neville looked a little dazed. After hesitating for a moment, he said,

"Everyone's very concerned about you, but Professor McGonagall wouldn't let us write to you. She said you needed plenty of rest during treatment."

"Sirius wouldn't let me write to the school either—"

A faint note of dissatisfaction entered Hermione's voice.

"Harry and Ron must be terribly worried about me, but Professor Snape wouldn't help me pass along a message to them.

Sirius thinks the people who cursed me might intercept owls flying to Hogwarts to find out whether I'm still alive. If they really want me dead, they might strike again. I don't deny that possibility, but the odds are too low. There are so many owls flying to Hogwarts every day; they can't possibly shoot them all down. Ah, of course, it's not bad to be cautious at a time like this. Oh, found it."

Neville looked at Hermione with a trace of reverence. She seemed to have been cooped up too long and was therefore babbling a bit, but he could hear the carefree note