When John saw Neville, he looked utterly worn out, with panda-like dark circles beneath his eyes.
John jumped in alarm. "Who beat you up?"
Neville looked at him resentfully. "Students keep coming to ask me questions lately."
John had nearly forgotten.
Aside from the Library, there was an even better way to get an early idea of the questions.
Ask the professors directly.
Snape probably wasn't having much trouble. One look at him told people he wasn't someone to mess with.
But Neville, the obliging soul who was Hogwarts' kindest professor, had borne the brunt of it.
The Hogwarts students were one thing, but students from other schools were lining up to see him too.
Some even pretended to run into him by chance and questioned him in the corridors or the Great Hall.
They tried to guess what questions would appear through their conversations with Neville.
The worst incident had happened when Neville urgently needed the toilet.
Someone had "happened to run into him" outside the bathroom and talked to him for a full half hour.
Neville swore he had never experienced such a long half hour in his life.
He had practically wanted to die right there.
The mighty Longbottom Lion had nearly burst his bladder outside the bathroom door.
The probing questions, day and night, had left Neville physically and mentally exhausted.
The trouble was, he couldn't turn them away.
Since Hogwarts was hosting the Inter-School League, it had a responsibility to remain fair and impartial.
If he showed favoritism, the other schools' headmasters would certainly object, to say the least.
Especially the petty headmaster of Beauxbatons.
Who knew what stories he might spin about Hogwarts at the Department of Education?
"Thanks for all your hard work." John patted Neville's shoulder sympathetically.
Unexpectedly, Neville looked even more