Hogwarts: Neville’s Insert (A Neville SI)

Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 74

Author's Note:

Hey guys!

Sorry for the long wait on this chapter. Like I mentioned before, I've been a bit stuck on what to write and how to move the story forward for the rest of the year. I ended up taking some time to plan things out properly.

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Neville raised an eyebrow. "It's mine."

Snape stepped closer. "That may be so. But I'm not letting you roam the school armed. Hand it over."

He reached out—but before his fingers got close, Lumina flared her wings open with a whoosh. She let out a piercing cry that made several heads turn.

"I think she's daring you to try," he said calmly, not even bothering to hide the smirk on his face.

Snape's lips curled into a grimace. His hand twitched toward his wand.

"Severus," Dumbledore said softly. "Leave it."

Snape stiffened. He turned toward the Headmaster, jaw tight, nostrils flaring—then spun on his heel and stalked out of the room without another word, his robes snapping behind him.

Dumbledore turned to Neville, his tone quieter now. "I suggest you keep that hidden, Mr Longbottom. Don't parade it about the castle."

Neville nodded. "Yeah. Wasn't planning to."

Dumbledore nodded and said, "Well, if you'll excuse me," as he adjusted his robes slightly. "I need to inform Mr. Weasley's parents and send a letter to the Minister regarding Hagrid and Mr. Lockhart." With that, Dumbledore walked past them, and the three of them finally left the Hospital Wing to follow Professor McGonagall.

…

Monday, 15th February 1993 – Clock Tower, Hogwarts

McGonagall walked ahead of the trio as they made their way down the stairs of the clock tower. Her robes swished with each step, sharp and precise.

Neville, Harry, and Hermione followed behind her in a loose line. Neville lazily carried the sword in his right hand, the blade catching the light with each movement.

Hermione, walking beside him, leaned in close and whispered so only Neville and Harry could hear, "Where did you get the sword?"

Harry spoke up before Neville could. "Apparently, he's had it the whole time."

Hermione blinked. "What? The whole time?" She looked over at Harry, brows furrowed.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. He's been hiding it on his wrist. It can shrink."

Neville gave a small shrug and tugged up his right sleeve, revealing the scabbard strapped snugly to his forearm.

Hermione gaped at it. "How long have you been hiding it there?"

Neville jabbed a thumb at Lumina, who was perched calmly on his shoulder. "Found it the same day I found her."

Hermione's eyes widened. "That long? Why didn't you tell us?"

Neville opened his mouth, but Harry beat him to it, smirking. "Probably 'cause he didn't want you giving him a lecture about carrying dangerous weapons around school."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and glared at him. "I do not lecture."

Harry gave a snort. "Right. And Snape's the friendliest bloke in the castle."

Neville quickly raised a hand, trying to stop them before it escalated. "Alright, alright, both of you chill. I just didn't want you worrying, Hermione. That's all."

Hermione huffed through her nose, clearly annoyed but biting her tongue. "You could've at least told us…"

Then she frowned again, eyes drifting back to the sword still dangling from his hand. "And why are you carrying it around like that? Why not just shrink it again and keep it hidden?"

Neville lifted it slightly and shrugged. "It's filthy, Hermione. I'm not putting it back in the scabbard like this. I need to clean it first."

"Honestly…" she sighed, rolling her eyes. Without another word, she raised her wand. "Scourgify."

The blade gleamed instantly, the dirt and grime vanishing as if it had never been there. It shimmered, polished and sharp, like it had just been forged.

Neville paused at the top of the stairs, staring blankly at the now spotless blade in his hand. After a beat, he smacked his forehead with his palm. "Why didn't I think of that?" he groaned. "Could've avoided that whole mess with Snape…"

'Seriously, all that fuss for nothing.'

Hermione gave him a knowing look, one brow raised. "Because you overthink things."

Neville opened his mouth, thought better of it, then gave a helpless shrug. "Fair."

Down below, McGonagall, now at the base of the stairs, looked up to see the three of them still lingering on the landing.

"I would appreciate it," she called up, her voice echoing crisply through the stairwell, "if you would follow me rather than dawdling. Some of us do have places to be."

Hermione straightened at once, face flushing. "Sorry, Professor!" she said quickly, hurrying down the steps.

Neville and Harry exchanged a glance, then followed her down without a word.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Neville squeezed the sword handle once, shrinking it back into its dagger form before sliding it into the scabbard on his wrist again.

McGonagall gave a short nod, then turned without another word and led them out of the clock tower, heading back toward Gryffindor Tower.

As they neared the portrait, the Fat Lady blinked and leaned forward in surprise.

"Well! When did you three get out?" she asked, sounding thoroughly offended. "I swear I never opened for them, Professor McGonagall—not a single peep! I've been right here the whole time!"

McGonagall raised a hand calmly. "It's not your fault. They apparently flew out the window."

The Fat Lady let out a gasp, hand to her chest. "Flew?!"

McGonagall didn't explain. Instead, she turned to the three students and held out her hand, palm up. "Your brooms. I'll return them when needed for Quidditch… assuming the season continues," she said pointedly. "Or at the end of term."

Harry opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but one stern glance from McGonagall shut him right up. He sighed and handed his over.

She turned next to Neville. "And yours, Mr Longbottom?"

Neville shrugged. "Can't give you what I don't have, Professor." He swung his bag off his shoulder, reached in, and pulled out a shrunken broom. The shaft was cracked straight through, and the bristles were half burnt, blackened and frayed at the ends.

He held it up, deadpan. "Tom thought to test the Killing Curse on me—see if I could survive it like Harry did."

McGonagall frowned, her mouth drawing tight as she inspected the broom. She let out a quiet sigh and waved her hand. "Very well. You can keep it."

Neville gave a small nod and started tucking it back into his bag—only to stop when McGonagall's hand lifted again.

"However… I'll also need your sword."

Neville stiffened. "But—it's mine."

"That may be so," McGonagall said crisply, "but I will not have you running about the castle armed like a medieval knight. Now hand it over, Mr Longbottom. You'll get it back at the end of term."

Neville opened his mouth, ready to argue—but before he could get a word out, Hermione stepped sharply on his foot.

"Oi—ow!" he yelped, hopping slightly and grabbing his ankle. "What was that for?"

Hermione didn't say a word. She just gave him that look.

'Right. Don't make it worse.'

Neville grumbled under his breath, still rubbing his foot. "Alright, alright…"

He undid the wrist scabbard, pulled the now-shrunken sword from beneath his sleeve, and placed it into McGonagall's waiting hand.

She gave a curt nod. "Thank you. Now, come along. Into the common room—all three of you."

No one argued.

As the Fat Lady swung open, warm firelight spilled into the corridor. The common room inside was unusually quiet for Gryffindor… at least for now.

"Professor?" Percy greeted as he stepped forward, standing stiffly near the entrance. Then his eyes landed on Harry, Neville, and Hermione behind her. His face paled. "Oh no… what did you lot do this time?"

The room was packed—students crammed into chairs, crowding the fireplace, even sitting along the stair rails. And the second they spotted Neville and the others, the whispering began.

"That's them!"

"Blimey, what happened?"

"Weren't they stuck in the tower? Did they sneak out?"

McGonagall raised a hand, her voice cutting through the chatter. "That's quite enough."

The room fell silent almost instantly.

"I understand you all have questions," she said, scanning the room. "But let me be clear—the matter has been resolved. Professor Dumbledore will address the school shortly."

She paused, then added, "In the meantime, the Headmaster has arranged a feast."

From near the fireplace, a hand shot up. "What do you mean, resolved, Professor?"

McGonagall let out a quiet sigh, her tone softening. "It will be explained later, I assure you."

She turned toward Percy. "Mr Weasley, please gather your siblings. There's something I must tell you regarding Ronald."

Percy straightened at once, face going pale. "What happened? Is he—?"

"He's alive," McGonagall said quickly, cutting him off. "But please—just gather them. It will be easier to explain when you're all together."

Percy nodded quickly, his face tight. "Yes, Professor," he said, and turned, hurrying off toward the far end of the common room.

As McGonagall moved toward the portrait hole, Neville, Harry, and Hermione slipped past the thick crowd of students.

"Wait—what happened?" someone asked, trying to block their way.

"Did someone die?"

"Was it You-Know-Who again?"

They didn't stop to answer. The three of them pushed through, ignoring the flood of questions, and made their way up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

When they stepped into the second-year boys' room, Seamus and Dean were sitting by the window playing Gobstones.

At the sight of them, both boys jumped up.

"Oi! Where've you lot been?" Seamus asked, his gobstone clattering to the floor mid-flick.

"Yeah," Dean added, already on his feet. "We've been looking everywhere for you."

Neville let out a sigh as he walked toward his bed. "Well… we kinda flew out the window."

Dean blinked. "Huh?"

Before Neville could explain, Seamus's eyes landed on the bird perched on Neville's shoulder. He pointed, eyes wide. "Oi—what is that?"

Neville glanced at Lumina and smiled. "Oh, this? This is Lumina."

As if on cue, Lumina gave a proud trill and took off, circling the dorm room in a graceful arc before settling again.

Seamus and Dean stared, mouths open.

"That's a bloody phoenix," Dean breathed.

Neville reached his bed, picked up the towel off the bed frame and slung it over his shoulder.

Lumina fluttered down beside him, landing where she used to sit. She tried to nestle into the spot, but clearly didn't fit anymore. She let out a confused chirp, shuffling her wings.

Neville looked over, brow raised. "Huh. You're bigger now."

Hermione, who had followed them in, gave a small smile and pulled out her wand. With a quick flick, she enlarged the pillow.

Lumina chirped happily and curled into the now much more comfortable cushion.

Seamus and Dean, who had walked over to get a closer look, were still gaping.

"This is Lumina?" Seamus asked, stunned. "The same tiny thing you kept in your pocket? She was puny like—what—an hour ago!"

Neville shrugged, towel still slung over his shoulder. "Well… guess she finally grew up."

Then he smirked, jerking a thumb toward Harry. "Harry'll explain. I'm off for a bath."

Harry blinked. "Wait—what?" He looked from Neville to Seamus and Dean—both of whom were now staring at him expectantly.

…

Neville walked into the room, towel still slung over his shoulder.

Noticing Seamus and Dean were gone, but Harry and Hermione were still there, he asked, "Where are Seamus and Dean?"

"They went down," Hermione replied softly.

Neville nodded and made his way to his bed. He draped the towel over the bed frame, then looked at the both of them. "Alright," he said slowly, "what's going on?"

Hermione blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You and Harry've been quiet since we got back," Neville said, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Something's up."

He pulled out his wand and flicked it casually. "Muffliato."

The hum of privacy settled around them.

Neville turned to Harry. "Is this about Ron?"

Harry gave a short nod, his face serious.

Hermione looked down at her hands, lips pressed tight.

Neville asked gently, "You feeling guilty about Ron getting Obliviated?"

Hermione nodded, her voice trembling. "I—I didn't think… I didn't think it'd end like that."

Her eyes shimmered, tears welling up.

Neville stepped closer and gently patted her on the head. "It's not your fault, Hermione. You didn't know Lockhart would try that. You can't blame yourself."

Hermione gave a shaky nod. "It's just… if I hadn't suggested we go to Lockhart, maybe he wouldn't have gotten hurt. He even asked me—'Why Lockhart, of all people?'"

Neville sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. "Hermione… it's natural to trust a professor. That's what we're taught, yeah? From the time we're little."

Hermione nodded again, wiping her eyes. "Yeah… I guess."

Harry spoke up after a moment, his voice quiet. "this might sound cruel… but I think it's for the best that Ron got his mind wiped. It was hard being friends with him after learning about his family."

Neville nodded slowly and sat down on his bed, saying nothing just yet.

Hermione looked up sharply. "But he was our friend, Harry. How could you say that?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling. "I know, Hermione. I used to think of him as my best friend. He was my first real friend."

His gaze drifted to Hedwig, perched quietly on her stand. He walked over, gently stroking her head. She hooted softly in response.

Harry sighed. "But everything Neville pointed out… it just fits. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. How Ron and his family met me. How he just happened to show up in my compartment, saying all the others were full—it all feels staged. Like it was planned from the start."

He paused, frowning. "And last year… his mum suddenly being all overly friendly at the station it didn't sit right."

Hermione looked torn. "But harry we dont know if he was in on any of it. He might not have known."

Harry turned back to face them. His eyes looked tired. "I know. I do. But every time I looked at him… I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't unsee it."

He hesitated. "And he was angry all the time. Jealous. He hated that I was spending more time with you two."

Neville stayed quiet, watching him closely.

"I tried," Harry added, his voice low. "I really did."

Neville nodded, settling on the edge of his bed. "You don't know if you can trust him anymore."

"Yeah." Harry exhaled. "I don't think Ron's in on anything—but everything you've pointed out… it's too much to ignore. Too many things that just line up." His jaw clenched slightly. "His parents must be part of Dumbledore's greater plan."

He sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's been hard, this term. Being friends with him. Trying to act like nothing's changed…"

Harry looked between them, eyes tired. "When we fought over Christmas break, part of me was actually… relieved. I thought maybe that was it, you know? That it'd end there. I'm just tired of pretending."

With a heavy breath, he flopped back onto his bed, arms spread out, staring up at the ceiling.

Hermione sat quietly, hands resting in her lap. "But…" she began softly, her voice trailing off.

Neville glanced at her and said gently, "I think it's for the best too, Hermione. This way… if Ron really was our friend, we're not hurting him by pulling away. He won't remember."

Hermione looked down at her hands, fingers twisting together, her face conflicted.

"I'll still talk to him," Harry murmured, still looking at the ceiling. "Be friendly. But I don't want to get too close again. Not like before."

Hermione gave a small nod, her voice barely above a whisper. "I guess… it is for the best."

The room fell quiet for a while.

Then Neville stood up, stretched his arms over his head, and said, "Well… I don't know about you two, but I'm starving. Let's get going."

If you wish to support this story, please join me at patreon.com/Tilct

please contribute some power stone