Nobody knew where Neville had gotten it. Half of them didn't even know what it was.
Just another day of Double Potions, Slytherin and Gryffindor. Like last month, last year, so many years before. Another day of Slytherin jabs and Gryffindor scowls and Hermione pursing her lips as she measured her ingredients.
Another day of Snape leaning over Neville's cauldron, telling him he'd never be able to make passable soup, let alone a decent potion.
Just another day until Neville jumped to his feet, pulled something out of his robes. "You can't talk to me like that," he said and raised his hand.
"Put that away, Longbottom," Snape said, "and sit down."
Neville pulled the trigger.