Hogwarts: Neville’s Insert (A Neville SI)

Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 72

Author's Note:

Hey guys!

Sorry for the long wait on this chapter—I was a bit stuck and had a hard time figuring out what direction to take. I ended up scratching my head over it for a while and had to rewrite it a few times.

Hope you like how it turned out!

Harry glanced around and frowned. "Hang on… where's Ron? I thought he'd be with you lot?"

Hermione's face paled. "Ron!"

She turned quickly, words tumbling out. "Lockhart—we went to him for help but… he tried to Obliviate us. I managed to dodge it, but the spell hit Ron. He… he lost his memories."

Neville blinked, staring at her. "Wait—you went to Lockhart? Of all people?"

His mind raced. 'Ron lost his memories? That's… either a very good thing… or a very bad one.'

Hermione's lip trembled as she tried to hold it together. "He… he wrote all those books, I thought maybe he could help… and you two were in danger, and he was the closest to us. I didn't know he was going to do that. I didn't think he'd actually try to erase our memories…"

Harry shook his head, frowning. "Hermione, we've been telling you he's a fraud from the start."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I know! I know, alright? I just… I panicked."

Neville placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "It's not your fault, Hermione. You were scared, and you were trying find help."

He glanced ahead, then muttered, "Still, it just goes to show… we really shouldn't blindly trust our teachers." His eyes flicked meaningfully toward Dumbledore and Snape.

…

Monday, 15th February 1993 – Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Hogwarts

Neville let out a loud groan as they trudged up the winding staircase leading to the top of the clock tower.

"Whose bloody brilliant idea was it to stick the Hospital Wing at the top of a tower?" he muttered, leaning heavily against the banister. He was panting, one hand gripping his shoulder tightly. It throbbed like mad now—he hadn't noticed it before, probably thanks to the rush of adrenaline.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, quit complaining. It's not like we can move it now, is it?"

Neville shot her a look. "Yeah, well, whoever designed this place clearly didn't think about wounded students crawling up a million stairs."

Ahead of them, Daphne glanced sideways at Harry and asked, "Are those two always like this?"

Harry gave a tired nod. "Yeah, most of the time."

They were at the back of the group. Dumbledore led the way, calm and steady, while Lord Greengrass walked near the front, carrying Astoria in his arms. Lady Greengrass stayed close by, occasionally glancing at her daughter with a worried look.

Hermione's voice softened slightly as she looked at Neville. "What's wrong with your shoulder?"

Neville sighed. "Probably knackered it when I fell off the broom."

Harry frowned. "You seemed fine a minute ago."

Neville nodded. "Yeah, I reckon I was high on adrenaline or something. Didn't feel it at the time, but now it's really starting to sting."

As the group reached the top of the clock tower, the doors to the Hospital Wing came into view. Professor McGonagall was already there, pacing back and forth with tight lips and a furrowed brow.

She paused the moment she saw them arriving.

"Albus, what's happened?" she asked, hurrying over to them.

"I'm not entirely sure, Minerva," Dumbledore replied calmly. "But perhaps we allow the children to receive treatment first."

McGonagall gave a curt nod. "Right. Please, this way." She turned briskly and pushed open the doors to the Hospital Wing. "Come in, quickly," she said, waving Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass inside without hesitation.

"Poppy!" she called ahead. "We've got injured students!"

Madam Pomfrey, who had just been checking over Ron Weasley at a bed near the far end, turned at the commotion. Her eyes widened the moment she saw Astoria in her father's arms.

"Oh my—quickly, over here!" she said, hurrying forward and pointing to the nearest open bed.

Mr. Greengrass moved fast, carefully setting Astoria down as Pomfrey conjured diagnostic charms with sharp, precise flicks of her wand. Lady Greengrass hovered beside the bed, one hand resting gently on her daughter's leg.

"Please, Madam," she said breathlessly, "check her—see if she's alright!"

Pomfrey nodded, already working. "Yes, of course. I'll do everything I can. Please step back just a bit—thank you."

Daphne stood close to her mother, silent but tense, her eyes locked on Astoria's face now that the color had return to her face.

Meanwhile, McGonagall turned to Dumbledore again. "Where is Professor Snape?"

Dumbledore replied, "Severus has gone to fetch Professor Lockhart."

McGonagall's lips pressed into a thin, hard line. "Good. That man has a great deal to answer for. We ought to call the Aurors immediately."

Dumbledore gave a slow nod. "Yes, Minerva… but first, we need to understand exactly what happened."

McGonagall glanced around, frowning slightly. "Where are those three?" she asked, meaning Harry, Hermione, and Neville.

Meanwhile, just outside the Hospital Wing, Neville hadn't followed the others in straight away. He slumped down onto the cool stone floor beside the door, leaning against the wall and cradling his shoulder. His whole body ached—bone-deep exhaustion settling in. It wasn't just the physical pain. It was everything—the chamber, the fight, the weight of it all.

Lumina fluttered down from the railing above, landing gently beside him. She nudged her head against his knee with a soft coo.

Neville glanced down at her and managed a tired smile. "Yeah, I know," he murmured. "I should probably go in. Just… gimme a second."

Hermione hovered near him for a moment before kneeling beside him. "Neville?" she asked softly. "Are you alright? Let's get you inside."

He nodded slowly, not quite meeting her eyes. "Yeah… just tired. Give me a second,"

A moment later, the doors creaked open and Professor McGonagall stepped out. Her eyes swept the corridor—and locked on the three of them.

"Mr Longbottom!" she exclaimed, striding over. "What on earth do you think you're doing, sitting on the floor like that? You should be on a bed—let Madam Pomfrey have a look at you."

Neville gave a slight shake of his head. "No need, Professor," he said, opening his sling bag with one hand. He rummaged around for a second and pulled out three small vials.

He handed one to Harry, who took it with a confused look.

Neville offered the second to Hermione. "Wiggenweld potion," he said simply.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm alright. I'm not hurt."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You had this the whole time and didn't use it?"

Neville gave a sheepish grin. "Er… kind of forgot they were there. They've been sitting at the bottom of my bag for months."

Harry eyed the vial in his hand. "If it's been in there for that long… is it still safe?"

Hermione nodded matter-of-factly. "Yes. Wiggenweld Potion lasts up to a year if it's stored properly. As long as it hasn't been exposed to direct sunlight or high heat, it should be fine."

"Yeah—what she said," Neville added quickly, uncorking one of the vials and knocking it back. Harry did the same.

Both boys immediately gagged at the harsh, bitter taste.

Neville coughed, face scrunching. "Merlin's beard, that's awful."

Harry wiped his mouth on his sleeve, grimacing. "Ugh. I really don't want to drink that again."

Within moments, the potion began to take effect. The dull ache in Neville's muscles faded, and the throbbing in his shoulder eased into nothing. He felt lighter—rested, even.

Hermione watched them both carefully. "How are you feeling now?"

Neville stretched his arms and stood up, nodding. "Yeah, I'm feeling better already."

Harry gave a cautious nod. "Same. Not bad. Still disgusting, though."

McGonagall let out a long breath, her posture relaxing just a touch. "Alright. Inside, now. Madam Pomfrey will still want to examine all of you, potion or not."

They nodded and followed her back into the Hospital Wing.

As they entered, their eyes were drawn immediately to Astoria's bed. Madam Pomfrey was running her wand over the girl with precise flicks, while Lord and Lady Greengrass stood close by, watching anxiously. Daphne was seated just to the side, quietly holding her sister's hand.

On the far end of the room, Ron sat on one of the beds, looking confused and a little lost as Dumbledore spoke to him in a calm voice.

Neville lowered his voice. "So… Ron lost all his memories? Or just some?"

Hermione nodded, glancing over. "Yeah. He doesn't remember anything."

Harry leaned closer, whispering, "You think that might be a good thing?"

Neville motioned for Harry to keep quiet. "We'll talk later," he muttered, just as Lumina fluttered down and landed on his shoulder, letting out a soft chirp.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey let out a surprised breath from Astoria's bedside. She leaned back, blinking at the readings her wand was displaying.

"Well," she murmured, "her vitals are strong again. Remarkably strong."

She waved her wand once more, double-checking the results. The glowing magical readouts floated in the air, confirming what she'd seen.

"This doesn't make sense," Pomfrey muttered under her breath. "She was pale, magically drained—and now her magical core's stabilised… almost as if she was never cursed at all."

Dumbledore, who had quietly stepped over, folded his hands behind his back. "That must be the phoenix tears," he said thoughtfully.

Pomfrey looked up. "Phoenix tears?"

"It's quite ingenious, actually," Dumbledore said, nodding slowly. "Mr Longbottom's quick thinking saved young Astoria's life. He injected phoenix tears directly into her bloodstream. It seems to have suppressed Miss Greengrass's condition."

Professor McGonagall looked genuinely stunned. "Albus… he injected her with phoenix tears?"

Lady Greengrass, her voice shaky, stepped forward. "Is she going to be alright, Madam Pomfrey?"

Lord Greengrass added, "Do you believe the phoenix tears are truly working?"

Pomfrey nodded, eyes still on the magical readings. "Yes… all signs point to it working. But we'll need to observe her long-term to be sure. Still—this is extraordinary. I would've never thought of it myself."

She turned to Neville, her expression filled with something close to admiration. "If phoenix tears can suppress the effects of a blood malediction… this could be groundbreaking. You may have just given us the first real treatment."

Then, without hesitation, she added, "I'll be recommending you for an Order of Merlin, Third Class."

Neville blinked, stunned. "Wait… seriously?"

Pomfrey gave a firm nod. "Yes. Absolutely."

Professor McGonagall, who had been standing silently nearby, looked at Neville like she couldn't quite decide whether to be proud or panic. "You… injected phoenix tears?" she repeated, as though saying it again might make it sound less mad.

Neville scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. "Er… yeah. I mean, I figured if phoenix tears can heal almost anything, maybe they'd work on a curse too. And Lumina sort of… nudged me. She seemed sure it'd help. So… I went with it."

Dumbledore gave a low hum, thoughtful. "A bold risk. But one that may very well mark a significant breakthrough in magical healing."

McGonagall crossed her arms, staring him down. "Merlin's beard. I'm not sure whether to award you a hundred points or give you detention for life."

"He didn't make it worse," Pomfrey chimed in. "He made the right call. And it worked."

Neville shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable with all the attention. Hermione, standing just beside him, reached out and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. She smiled, proud.

Pomfrey cleared her throat and turned to Daphne. "Right then. Miss Greengrass—your turn. Just a quick scan, nothing to worry about."

Before Daphne could move, the doors to the Hospital Wing swung open again with a sharp creak.

Professor Snape entered, his black robes billowing behind him like a stormcloud. His wand was drawn, his expression as cold and grim as ever. Floating behind him, limp and unconscious, was Professor Lockhart—looking oddly peaceful despite the circumstances.

Snape's lip curled in a faint sneer. "Gilderoy Lockhart. It seems he's managed to Obliviate himself. Completely. He's lost all memory."

Dumbledore gave a single nod. "Set him down in one of the beds, Severus. We'll deal with him in due time."

As Snape guided the unconscious man to a bed, McGonagall stepped forward, arms folded, eyes sharp. "Well?" she asked. "Would someone like to explain what exactly happened?"

Dumbledore moved to join her side, his expression calm but intent. "Yes… I believe we'd all like to know as well."

Neville, Harry, and Hermione exchanged a glance.

Neville gave a small nod and stepped forward. "Right… I guess I'll start."

He took a steadying breath. "So… a few months back, we started piecing together what the monster in the Chamber actually was. First clue was the snake. Slytherin's emblem is a serpent—it just made sense to start there."

"We narrowed it down," he continued. "Went through every magical snake that could petrify someone. The only one that fit everything was a Basilisk."

McGonagall's eyebrows lifted slightly at that, but she stayed quiet.

"It was the only creature that made sense," Neville said. "Basilisks can kill with a direct look. But we realised that none of the victims had died. They were all petrified, not killed."

He glanced around the room. "That's when it clicked. They didn't see it directly. Colin saw it through his camera lens. Justin through Nearly Headless Nick. the 4th year Ravenclaw through a puddle of water. That's why they all survived."

McGonagall's brows drew together, voice sharp. "And you didn't think to tell anyone?"

Neville's jaw tensed. Like how I told Dumbledore Quirrell used an Unforgivable on me—and he Obliviated both me and Madam Pomfrey just to cover it up?

He took a slow breath, forcing his voice calm as he spoke aloud.

"If we had told you… would you have believed us?"

Silence followed.

"All we had were theories," Neville continued, steady now. "Guesses. Nothing concrete. And I mean, come on—if three second-years could figure it out with nothing but books and common sense… shouldn't at least one professor have done the same?"

He let that hang in the air.

"The fact that no one did… isn't really our fault."

Snape's eyes narrowed like blades. "Arrogant," he said coldly.

Neville turned and met his gaze without flinching. "No," he said simply. "Just being honest."

He shifted slightly, glancing between the staff.

"And besides that," he added, "we didn't know who was being possessed. We didn't know how, or why, or when it started. All we had were bits and pieces. Just speculation. And frankly, we weren't sure anyone would believe us."

He looked straight at Dumbledore as he said it.

That shut them up.

McGonagall's mouth pressed into a thin, unreadable line. Even Snape held his tongue this time.

Then, finally, Dumbledore's voice broke the silence—calm, but curious.

Dumbledore asked gently, "Then how did you figure out the location of the Chamber's entrance?"

Neville shifted, then nodded. "Well… over Christmas, I asked my gran about the last time the Chamber was opened. She told me a student died. And that Hagrid was blamed for it."

Harry added, "We know Hagrid. He might love dangerous creatures, but he'd never hurt a student. Not intentionally."

Neville continued, "Anyway, Myrtle's the only ghost at Hogwarts who died as a student. It just… made sense. She's always haunting that same bathroom on the second floor, right? We figured she must've died there. And if the Chamber was opened fifty years ago—she matched the timeline."

He looked toward McGonagall. "And it wasn't just that. A fourth-year Ravenclaw got petrified right outside that same loo. That couldn't be a coincidence."

"So," Neville shrugged, "we went to check. Properly. Had a look around. That's when we noticed one of the sinks had a tiny snake engraving on the side. Everything lined up. We just figured… that had to be the entrance."

He paused, then added, "Earlier today, when we found out someone had been taken into the Chamber… we figured Tom was ready to come back. Why else would he take them down there?"

McGonagall frowned. "Tom? Who is that?"

Dumbledore gave a slow nod "Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself—fifty years ago, here at Hogwarts. After leaving school, he vanished… travelled far and wide, delving deep into the Dark Arts. He surrounded himself with the worst sort of company, underwent dangerous magical transformations. By the time he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognisable. Few connected the terrifying Dark Lord to the clever, charming Head Boy he once was."

McGonagall's eyes widened in alarm. "Voldemort?"

Mr Greengrass's voice was sharp, disbelief creeping in. "Wait—are you saying… Astoria was possessed? By the Dark Lord?"

Lady Greengrass went pale, her face draining of colour as she turned toward her daughter in shock.

Astoria, shaken and small against the bed pillows, gave a slow nod.

Daphne didn't react—her face was calm, unreadable. She already knew. Harry and Neville had told her earlier.

Dumbledore gave a grave nod. "Yes. I'm afraid so. Through this diary." He held up the battered black book Neville had handed him earlier.

Lady Greengrass's expression turned stricken. She stepped forward, her voice trembling. "Astoria… why would you have his diary in the first place? And why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell us?"

Astoria's eyes filled with shame as she looked down. "I… I found it at Flourish and Blotts. It just… called to me. H-He said he knew how to break the curse. I believed him. I thought he could help."

Her voice trembled as she continued.

"But then… I started blacking out. Losing time. He told me it was part of the research, that he needed time to work. And when I finally realised what he was really doing… I couldn't stop him."

Dumbledore stepped in gently. "You mustn't blame yourself, Miss Greengrass. Many witches and wizards—older, more experienced than you—have fallen for Tom Riddle's lies and charm. You were not at fault for what he did through you."

Astoria nodded slowly, biting her lip.

Dumbledore's gaze turned thoughtful, a flicker of concern in his eyes.

"But what I find most troubling," he said, voice quiet but serious, "is how Voldemort managed to bewitch young Astoria at all. My sources tell me he's been hiding in a forest in Albania—far from Hogwarts."

He turned then, eyes settling on Neville, Harry, and Hermione. "Please… continue."

Neville gave a small nod. "Well, anyway," he began, "we figured he was trying to come back to life. I mean, before this, he was just… petrifying people. But kidnapping someone? That was different. That meant he had everything he needed. It was the last step."

He glanced at Hermione, then at Harry. "That's why I asked Hermione to go get a professor while Harry and I went down into the Chamber to stall Riddle. I would've gone alone, but only Harry could open the entrance—Parseltongue."

Neville gave a small shrug. "And we were right. Tom was close—really close. If we'd waited any longer, he might've come back properly."

Dumbledore nodded, voice soft. "And you were right. Had you not acted, Tom may very well have returned."

Neville nodded again. "Yeah. We dealt with the basilisk, made it out… and once the diary was destroyed, he vanished. That was the end of it."

Dumbledore gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "I see."

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