'What's the Prophet saying?' Harry asked curiously, stepping carefully over the trick step on the main staircase and catching Neville before he forgot and got trapped.
'They couldn't sweep this one under the rug,' Neville smiled a bit grimly, 'most of London saw it, there were a lot of Memory Charms performed on muggles. They tried to make it look it was Sirius Black and his rogue Death Eaters, but that excuse is wearing thin. Gran said their emergency Wizengamot session was largely an attempt by Fudge to convince everyone that Voldemort hadn't returned and that his days as Minister are numbered.'
'Does you Gran tell you everything that happens in these sessions?' Harry grinned. The Great Hall was practically empty. A scatter of students, mostly Ravenclaws, were eating alone along their tables, and the staff table was empty save for a rather cheerful looking Professor Vector.
'Yes,' Neville sighed. 'The Wizengamot seat is hereditary and she's just my proxy which means that once I'm seventeen I have to go myself. Gran wants to be sure I know what I'm doing so she spends an hour talking to me after every meeting.'
'That sounds wonderful,' Harry smirked, taking a seat on the completely empty Gryffindor table.
'I don't know why you're laughing,' Neville responded. 'I'm fairly sure you have at least one seat yourself.'
'At least one?' Harry had assumed there was something democratic about the way the Ministry was run. I probably should have known better really, he thought wryly.
'You have an old family that absorbed a few other prominent names and accrued a lot of political weight,' Neville explained. 'Gran mentioned that once you're of age you'll one of the most politically powerful wizards or witches in Britain, especially with your fame.'
'That sounds fun,' Harry dryly. 'A lifetime of exchanging barbed compliments with the likes of Lucius Malfoy.'
'Hopefully he'll be in Azkaban by then,' Neville pointed out.
'Or I'll be dead,' Harry agreed. Neville laughed. 'Katie and Fleur got angry when I made that joke,' he mused. 'Why?' Neville asked bemusedly. 'It was funny.'
'Beats me,' Harry shrugged.
There was a short silence as Harry carefully constructed himself a bacon sandwich from the nearby platters of breakfast, liberally cramming bacon between his slices of toast.
'I'm not sure you'll be able to bite that,' Neville remarked, watching as he ate a less ambitious breakfast of sausage and poached eggs.
'I can certainly try,' Harry countered, stretching his jaw to encompass the sandwich. It was a bit far to be comfortable. 'Maybe I should cut it,' he sighed, reaching for his silverware.
'Probably for the best,' Neville agreed, 'you don't need to substitute for Ron's table manners when he's away.' 'My sincerest apologies,' Harry replied dryly. 'So what are you doing today? Nobody comes back until tomorrow.'
'Professor Sprout offered to let me help her in the greenhouses,' Neville smiled, 'I brought Hannah to show to her.'
'Hannah?' Harry blinked. 'That's not how you introduce your girlfriend to people Neville, but congratulations for finally asking her out, everyone knows you like Miss Abbott.'
Neville let out a very undignified squeak and turned the colour of a rather overripe pomegranate. 'I named my mimbulus mimbletonia Hannah,' he admitted in a small voice.
'Oh,' Harry realised. 'Well if you want my advice I'd make sure Hannah, the girl that is, knows how much you love your cactus, before she finds out you named a slimy, spiky, stinky sap shooting monster of a plant after her and takes it badly.'
'You think she won't like it,' Neville gulped.
'I think she'll like it once she knows how much you love the plant,' Harry mediated. 'If she doesn't know that, though, then you're going to be spending a whole lot more time with the less attractive, green version of Hannah than with the pretty, pig-tailed one.' Neville had continued to colour reaching a very splendid shade of Gryffindor crimson as Harry talked.
'When you said everyone knows,' he began tentatively.
'I meant that literally every person in the school knows that you like her,' Harry grinned. 'I wouldn't be surprised if Professor Dumbledore's end of year speech mentions it. If he's still here, Harry added silently.
'So Hannah knows?' Neville squeaked.
'I think she was one of the first to notice, Nev,' Harry told him. 'You spend a lot of time staring at her, and then you start getting really dreamy-eyed and go all red. What do you start thinking about?' He did his very best to copy Gabrielle's suggestive, mischievous glance.
'I think I need to go see Professor Sprout,' Neville decided, abandoning his breakfast.
'You could just ask Hannah to Hogsmeade,' Harry suggested. 'She might say yes, you know.'
Neville didn't look at all convinced, or any less flushed, as he hurried along between the tables.
I suppose I should check on Dobby and then go and speak to Sirius, Harry decided, finishing his sandwich in a series of messy forkfuls.
The elf hadn't seen him since acting as a witness for his vow with Rita, and while Dobby could never betray him, it would be best if the house elf believed there was a really good reason for what happened. His godfather, on the other, more important hand, might know a lot more about what was happening at the Ministry, and, of course, it was time to ask about the prophecy. Sirius had had long enough to stew pent up wherever he was in London over Christmas.
Harry swung himself off the bench and began to wonder in the direction of the Chamber of Secrets.
'Dobby,' he called quietly.
There was a loud crack, and the elf appeared directly in front of him, forcing Harry to halt in his path to avoid falling over him.
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