It was Saturday and Harry had spent all afternoon sitting in the alcove near the castle entrance, waiting for his friend to come back. He was determined not to be lousy mate this time when Neville needed his help the most. It helped that Ron and Hermione spent their time by 'private studying'. It was cold and warming charms were no longer working, but at least Harry had got a lot of his own real studying done. He managed to complete all his reading for this and next week, which brought surprisingly satisfactory feeling of preparedness.

Now, just after five p.m., Neville finally returned, his face wearing that unfocused neutrality that Harry knew linked to the Calming draught.

“Hello, professor. How did it go, Neville?”

“Okay,” Neville answered uninterestedly. “Snape's my guardian now.”

Harry's shocked face turned to the disagreeable Potions master who nodded, his face revealing something that Harry thought was resigned disgust.

“But- but why?” He stuttered.

Visibly, Snape was deciding whether to response to Harry or to bit his head off. Finally, he said, “Someone had to be appointed today, and between me and his Uncle, Longbottom chose me.” Surprise and suspicion battled over leadership in his voice.

Harry could relate to the sentiment. Neville hated Snape. Which meant, he hated his Uncle more. Neville had never talked about his Uncle, and as far as Harry knew, it was Neville's only close relative apart from his Grandmother. Suddenly he remembered that some Uncle Algie had thrown Neville out of a window. His eyes narrowed. There was something seriously wrong with Algie. Harry's own feeling about uncles was rather uncharitable, anyway. He exchanged look with Snape.

“What's wrong with your Uncle?” he asked tentatively, not sure if he really wanted to know.

“He's after money,” Neville shrugged. “He spends any amount of money in no time. Grandma said he has to be kept on allowance, or he would drink and gamble our castle away.”

Just money, Harry relaxed. Then to his chagrin he noticed, that Snape hadn't missed his reaction and was watching him closely now.

“Alright,” he said quickly. “Shall we go to dinner, or do you want to go to the dorms, Neville?”

“Dinner,” Snape ordered, “Mr. Longbottom needs food at least three times a day if he continues using calming and sleeping potions.”

“All right,” Harry agreed. “How long he's going to take them?”

“I would advise at least until the funeral on Monday. Later, we shall lower the doses.” The wizard answered. “Ensure that Longbottom is at the entrance hall on Monday at 9 a.m. in appropriate dress.”

Or else, Harry heard, even thought Snape hadn't voiced that sentiment. Then, to his surprise, Snape reluctantly added. “Contact me if you need something sooner, Longbottom.”

Harry stared after Snape who left in his usual black mass of twirling robes. “That was pretty decent,” he commented to Neville.

The artificially calm boy shrugged. “He's honour bound. He'll get to normal when he switches the guardianship to McGonagall.”

Harry supposed it was a pureblood thing. Leave it to Snape to switch his behaviour when honour bound and switch it back when he wasn't anymore. “She's gonna be a good guardian, Nev.” Harry told him, “She won't let Snape to take his crap on you. Come on, let's eat.”