Learning

After dinner, Hermione was so worked up she decided that she should probably take a cold shower. But before she could even head off to her quarters she was grabbed by two strong hands and dragged into one of the huge closets in the front corridor. The closet was dark. The man in the closet with her was slightly taller than her. At first she thought that it was John, but she was mistaken when the voice spoke.

"What do you want?" the voice said. It trembled with the darkness. Hermione felt a shiver run up her spine as the voice spoke. It was so dark in the closet not even the little space under the door illuminated the space enough for Hermione to see a silhouette of the person she was talking to.

"What do you mean?" Hermione questioned with not quite a convincing pitch. "I don't have the faintest clue what you are talking about."

"What do you want?!" The voice whispered more urgently. "I know that you are here for a particular reason. It may be to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, but there hasn't been a professor here for the sole purpose of teaching, since...well...there just hasn't been any."

"Why are we in the closet?" Hermione asked now growing anxious and trying to avoid this man's prying questions. "I should be the one asking what you want?"

"Hermione," the voice said. "You know who I am. I am your friend. Trust me. I just...I just don't want to see you get hurt...like Harry did...or like my parents."

It struck Hermione like a bolt of lightning. It was almost as if this spasm in her brain lit the whole closet up. How could she not realize whom she was talking to? She took out her wand.

"Lumos," Hermione pronounced into the obscurity. A small beam of light lit the room from the point of Hermione's wand. "Neville, why on earth are you pulling me into closets? If I had the slightest clue what you were talking about, I still wouldn't tell you. Plus, this is none of your business! I ought to choke you for scaring the breeches off of me."

"Hermione," Neville said with a hoarseness that wasn't present when he addressed all the professors. His voice had definitely lost its squeaky tendency and was lower. "I know why you're back."

"What are you going to do about it, Neville?" Hermione inquired with menace in her voice.

"Oh," Neville stuttered a bit falling back into his normal patterns of speech that Hermione recognized. "Well, there is nothing that I can do, but I know there are things that I know that could help you."

"Huh?" Hermione asked. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Snape told me a couple of things before his...err...retirement," Neville said letting on too much information that was necessary for Hermione to know.

"What do you mean?" Hermione demanded. "What do you mean his retirement? You didn't sound so sure about it."

"I have some secrets that I'm not supposed to share either," Neville said, the squeakiness escalating back into his voice. "I'm willing to share them with you, but you have to assure me one thing."

"And what might this one condition be, Neville?" Hermione asked, becoming a little impatient. "I can't guarantee that I can help you, though."

"But, Hermione, I know that you can help me," Neville responded. "Snape has told me numerous things that will repeat in the future."

"I have seen the patterns too," Hermione said with a sad tone.

"Hermione," Neville said. "I just need to know one thing. He's gone, right? He's dead?"

"We're not sure."