Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 65
But Harry cut in, voice quiet but steady. "No… Neville's got a point. We know Dumbledore probably knows what's going on, but he hasn't done much. And Malfoy orchestrated it, and I think his behind the chamber as well."
Neville nodded. Of course, Neville knew that Lucius was the one who gave Tom's diary to someone.
Hermione looked up, her eyes narrowing. "You think he's involved in the Chamber business somehow? That he's helping You-Know-Who?"
Neville shook his head. "Not directly. But yeah—I think he's helped somehow. Maybe even helped Tom possess someone, like how Tom was possessing Quirrell last year."
He leaned in slightly, voice low. "And Gran said he's been the loudest voice on the Board ever since this started. We already know how he feels about Muggle-borns—just look at the way his son acts, it's not hard to guess."
Neville's eyes flicked toward the staff table, then back to the others. "So why would someone like him be so eager to 'help'? I think he knows exactly what's going on… and he's using it to get rid of anyone who stands in his way. Starting with Dumbledore."
Then he turned to Harry. "You saw it, didn't you?"
Harry nodded slowly, frowning. "Yeah. When he said, 'Help will always be given at Hogwarts… to those who ask for it.' He was looking straight at me. He wants me to figure this out… to deal with Tom."
Neville nodded again. "Exactly."
…
Monday, 15th February, 1993 – Outside Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom, Hogwarts
The second-years trudged along the corridor behind Professor Lockhart, who was humming cheerfully to himself as if the castle hadn't just endured multiple petrifications.
Neville lingered at the back of the group with Hermione, Harry, and Ron. He was grinning like he was going mad.
As they filed into the classroom and took their usual seats, Hermione leaned closer and whispered, "What's got you grinning like that? You've been smirking since breakfast."
Neville only gave her a wink. "Patience, Hermione. You'll see soon enough."
At the front of the room, Lockhart strode to his desk with dramatic flair. "Right, class! Turn to page one-hundred and eighty of Wandering with Werewolves. We shall—" He paused, then said brightly, "—we shall practise my favourite bedside pose— Oh! Blast, no, that's not—!"
A few students blinked in confusion.
Dean gave a loud snort. Seamus nearly fell out of his chair wheezing. Within seconds, the whole class had burst into uncontrollable laughter.
Lockhart flushed crimson. "Er—what I meant to say was—my most intimate campfire moment— No! That's not it either."
Every attempt to correct himself only made it worse. He went on about hair tonic, pearly white teeth, and the "vital art of smouldering at just the right moment." Each slip of the tongue had the class in absolute stitches.
Neville bit his lip to stop from laughing too loudly. 'Blimey, works even better than I hoped.'
Lockhart tried again. "Now—now, to business. Potter! Front and centre, there's a lad. Bend over—I mean stand over—oh Merlin—"
Harry looked stunned as he stepped forward. Ron had to stuff his sleeve in his mouth to keep from cackling.
Lockhart continued, determined. "We shall demonstrate the defensive crouch I used against the Slovakian Silver-backed Werewolf—marvellous beast, all fangs and rippling pectorals—wait, that's me—no, the werewolf—was it me?"
He slapped a hand over his mouth, clearly horrified.
The chalk dropped from his hand as if it had scorched him.
"Right! Clearly someone's had a bit of fun with my pumpkin juice," he said, voice pitched high. "Ha-ha! Very clever prank. Lesson's off! Off you go now, everyone!"
A Ravenclaw girl near the front hesitantly raised her hand. "But Professor, we're not allowed to wander the corridors without a teacher."
Neville jumped in. "Didn't you hear him yesterday? Castle's perfectly safe."
Lockhart latched onto the excuse like a lifeline. "Exactly! Perfectly safe. As safe as—well—safer than my first modelling shoot in nothing but dragon-hide pants—oh no—" His eyes went wide with horror again as the words left his mouth.
With a panicked squeak, he turned on his heel and fled for his office, door slamming behind him.
The class dissolved into howling laughter again. Even Hermione had her head down on the desk, shoulders shaking.
The class erupted in laughter as they filtered out into the corridor, still giggling and replaying the best of Lockhart's ramblings.
Neville strolled out casually, hands tucked into his pockets, looking far too pleased with himself. "Told you it'd be worth it."
Hermione caught up to him, her eyes narrowed. "You did it, didn't you? You spiked his drink."
Neville kept walking, the corners of his mouth twitching despite his best efforts. "Nope. Didn't do a thing."
Hermione folded her arms, though a small smile tugged at her lips. "Liar."
Then she froze mid-step, her eyes going wide. "Hang on—Fred and George!" she hissed, jabbing a finger at his chest. "I saw you whispering with them in the common room last night!"
Neville grinned openly now. "Yep. Six Galleons well spent."
The day before, he'd quietly handed over the gold to Fred and George in exchange for a very specific favour: spike Lockhart's pumpkin juice with the Babbling Beverage that'd leave the man a rambling mess.
Harry let out a laugh. "Brilliant, mate. I honestly thought he'd finally cracked."
Ron snorted. "After yesterday? He had it coming."
Neville shrugged, not bothering to hide the satisfaction on his face. "Come on, we've got the whole period free. Might as well enjoy it."
…
Later that day – Potions Class, Dungeon
Neville added the crushed bat spleen into his cauldron and stirred it anti-clockwise, just as the textbook instructed—four times.
Beside him, Daphne Greengrass was focused on her own potion, stirring with smooth, practiced motions.
Snape had split all the students by House today to make everyone more miserable.
Hermione sat behind him and partnered with Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff.
Harry was two rows back, working with Terry Boot behind Malfoy's desk.
And Ron—poor Ron—was stuck at the very back with Pansy Parkinson, looking like he'd rather chuck himself into the cauldron.
Neville glanced down again. His potion had darkened to the right shade, bubbling gently. Almost ready. He lowered the flame beneath it carefully.
From the desk next to Hermione's, Draco's voice rang out—loud enough to be heard across the room.
"I always thought Father might be the one who got rid of Dumbledore," Draco drawled, clearly fishing for attention. "He's always said Dumbledore was the worst Headmaster the school's ever had. Maybe we'll get someone decent now. Someone who doesn't care if the Chamber stays open. McGonagall's only filling in—she won't last long..."
"He's impossible," Hermione muttered behind him.
"Tell me about it," Neville muttered back, shaking his head slightly.
Snape swept down their aisle and paused beside Daphne's cauldron. He bent slightly, examining it with his usual cold precision. "Excellent, as always, Miss Greengrass."
Then he turned to Neville's.
"Acceptable," he said, lips curling in a sneer before drifting on to Hermione and Hannah's table.
Daphne glanced at Neville's potion, frowning faintly. "Acceptable?"
Neville just shrugged, pouring his finished potion carefully into a small glass vial and setting it on the collection tray. "Better than a 'fail,'" he muttered.
Snape moved over to Malfoy's table, where Draco sat beside Crabbe.
He peered into Draco's cauldron and gave a rare nod. "Excellent work, Mr. Malfoy."
"Sir," said Malfoy loudly, not missing a beat. "Why don't you apply to be Headmaster?"
Snape's mouth twitched. "Now, now, Malfoy," he said, voice smooth. "Professor Dumbledore has only been suspended by the governors. I dare say he'll return soon enough."
"Yeah, right," Malfoy said with a smirk. "I bet you'd have Father's vote, sir. I'll let him know you're the best teacher here."
Snape didn't respond, but the slight smirk on his face said enough. His robes billowed dramatically as he swept off around the dungeon, clearly pleased.
Neville rolled his eyes as he quietly corked his vial. 'More like the worst teacher in the school… though, to be fair, at least he's better than Lockhart.'
Seamus, seated in front of Neville, hunched over his cauldron, made dramatic gagging noises. "Urgh—can't take much more of this 'Professor Snape for Headmaster' rubbish. I'm gonna spew," he groaned, but made sure Snape didn't hear him.
Neville chuckled, unable to help himself.
But the mood shifted in an instant as Malfoy's voice rang out again, loud and cruel for everyone to hear.
"I'm quite surprised the Mudbloods haven't all packed their bags by now," he said, lips curling. "Bet you five Galleons the next one dies."
Then he turned in his seat, eyes locked on Hermione. "Here's hoping it's you, Granger. Long overdue."
Hermione's expression faltered. Her lips parted slightly, her frown deepening—but she didn't say anything. Her eyes went a little misty, not with tears, but the sheer shock that someone would so casually wish her dead. She looked toward Neville, unsure.
Harry, seated behind Malfoy. glaring. "Shut it, Malfoy."
Malfoy sneered, unfazed. "What, Potter? Think she can hide behind Longbottom's robes? Pathetic—"
He never finished.
Neville, jaw tight, waved his hand subtly.
Malfoy's cauldron suddenly flipped over. The Swelling Solution spilled straight onto his face and hand with a wet splat.
"YAAARGH!" Draco shrieked, stumbling back as his arms and nose swelled comically. He tripped over the leg of his stool and hit the floor with a thud. The parts of him soaked in potion were inflating fast—his fingers like sausages, face puffing up like a balloon.
He tried to scramble upright, only to collapse again, landing face-first with a loud THUNK.
The class erupted into laughter.
Seamus nearly fell off his stool, howling. Dean slapped the table. Even Hannah Abbott let out a gasp that sounded suspiciously like a giggle.
Neville leaned back, arms folded, smirking just as the bell rang.
Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh—but her eyes found Neville's. She already knew. Of course she did.
Neville gave her a small wink.
Her cheeks flushed pink.
"What is the meaning of—" Snape snapped, storming over as the laughter died down.
He stopped beside Malfoy, now resembling a grotesque balloon animal, and looked him over with no real urgency.
Snape's eyes flicked toward Neville briefly. "When I find out who did this…" he said coldly.
Then, more curtly, "Mr. Malfoy, come with me. You'll need a Deflating Draught."
"Rest of you, wait outside," Snape snapped. "I've got to take you all to Herbology."
As the class began filing out of the dungeon, Hermione walked up beside Neville.
"You all right?" he asked softly.
She managed a shaky smile. "I will be. Thank you." Then, in a whisper only he could hear, "Serves him right."
Neville's grin returned. "Couldn't agree more."
Harry came up next, grinning widely. "That was brilliant, mate," he said, giving Neville a high five. "Doubt he's learned his lesson, though."
Neville shrugged. "Then we'll just have to keep teaching him. Over and over."
Ron, catching up, looked confused. "So what happened in there?"
Harry quickly filled him in.
Ron's expression turned stormy. "He said that? To Hermione? Bloody hell, if Snape wasn't in the room—"
Just then, Snape reappeared from the dungeon, Draco trailing behind him. Malfoy looked perfectly normal again, save for his bruised ego and the sour scowl plastered across his face.
He shot Neville a venomous glare before hurrying to rejoin Crabbe and Goyle.
"Enough loitering," Snape barked. "I don't have time to waste."
He turned and began leading the class down the corridor toward the greenhouses.
Neville lingered at the back of the group. As they moved down the hallway, he flicked his fingers subtly at his side. A soft spark leapt from his hand, just enough to cast a gentle tripping jinx.
Malfoy suddenly pitched forward with a loud crash, slamming into a suit of armour which collapsed on top of him in a metallic heap.
The corridor burst into laughter.
Snape whipped around, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco scrambled upright, brushing off his robes. "I—I tripped, Professor."
Snape gave him a hard look, then flicked his wand, sending the scattered pieces of armour flying back into place. "Well, do try not to again. Move along."
Malfoy glared daggers at Neville as he hurried past, his cheeks red.
Neville gave him a lazy look. "What?"
Draco hissed something under his breath and stalked off, shoulders stiff.
Neville smiled, flicked his hand again—
Whump—Malfoy hit the floor a second time.
More laughter erupted behind him.
"Merlin's saggy socks, Draco," Neville drawled, "mind the floor, would you?"
Hermione gasped softly and whispered, "Neville! Professor Snape's right there!"
Neville smiled innocently. "Gravity's a harsh mistress, 'Mione."
Draco didn't say a word this time. He simply got up, red-faced, and stormed off ahead, trying to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Gryffindors snickering behind him.
Neville strolled on at the back, hands in his pockets, whistling softly as if nothing had happened at all.
They were descending the central staircase, making their way through the castle as Snape escorted them to the greenhouses for Herbology.
Neville, walking near the back, couldn't help himself—he cast a few more subtle tripping jinxes, sending Malfoy stumbling now and then on the stairs. He was careful, of course, only doing it when Malfoy was already near the bottom. No real harm done—just bruised pride.
Eventually, though, Malfoy got wise. Huffing and red-faced, he positioned himself right next to Professor Snape and didn't budge from his side.
'Coward,' Neville thought with mild amusement, hands in his pockets as he strolled behind the rest of the class.
As they reached the second-floor landing, a group of first-years blocked the corridor. They were bunched in a loose circle, murmuring and fidgeting, clearly distracted by something.
Snape's voice sliced through the hall. "What is going on here?" he drawled sharply. "Why are you all outside of class?"
The first-years flinched at the tone and parted quickly, making way as Snape and the second-years approached.
There, on the floor, lay a blonde girl, looking pale, her eyes shut. Her small form was slightly curled on her side, motionless.
Gasps rippled through the second-years. Several students exchanged nervous glances, whispers already starting.
"Is that… another one?"
"Could the Heir have attacked again?"
Neville narrowed his eyes, stepping closer but staying near the back. He leaned toward Harry and asked under his breath, "Did you hear anything?"
Harry shook his head, frowning. "No. Nothing at all."
That wasn't good. The basilisk's approach had always been loud and unmistakable to Harry before.
Daphne, who had gone stiff, suddenly darted forward. "Tory!" she cried, dropping to her knees beside the girl. She gently took her hand, checking her pulse and brushing the hair from her sister's face. "Astoria—can you hear me?"
Snape strode over and knelt beside them, his eyes narrowing. "What happened?" he asked coldly.
One of the first-years swallowed nervously. "W-we were just on our way to Charms, sir. Then she just… fainted."
Neville's eyes narrowed on Astoria. Fainted? he rubbed his chin in thought. Could she be the one being possessed? But… Ginny never fainted when she was under the diary's control. Something's not adding up.
Snape nodded curtly. "I see. And where is the professor meant to be escorting you?"
Another first-year answered, "Professor Lockhart cancelled class, sir."
Snape sighed through his nose. "That idiot," he muttered. Then, with a flick of his wand, he levitated Astoria gently into the air.
"I'll take her to Madam Pomfrey."
"I'm coming with her, Professor," Daphne said at once, stepping up and grabbing her sister's bag.
Snape gave her a short nod, then turned to the group of first-years, eyes narrowing. His gaze swept across them, then drifted to the back of the second-years. "Longbottom—escort the first-years to their class."
He then addressed the second-year students again. "Since it's nearby, I trust the rest of you can make it safely without me."
"Move along, then," he snapped, turning on his heel and heading up the stairs, Astoria floating ahead of him with Daphne close behind, clutching her sister's things.
As Astoria passed, Neville's eyes followed her.
"Get going, Longbottom. You've got a class to attend," Snape barked over his shoulder without stopping.
Neville gave a small nod and turned toward the group of first-years.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had lingered behind, standing beside him.
"You lot go ahead," Neville said. "I'll come after I take them to Charms."
Hermione folded her arms. "You're just going to skip class again, aren't you?"
Harry gave him a look. "Weren't you the one who said we should stick together to stay safe?"
Neville didn't answer straight away, walking alongside the first-years as they started down the stairs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione followed a few steps behind.
As they reached the next landing, Luna appeared, drifting beside them like she always did—calm and dreamy.
"Hello," she said, voice soft as ever.
Neville nodded in greeting, and Harry asked, "Hey, Luna, do you know what happened to that girl?"
Luna shook her head. "No. She just fainted. I wonder if Astoria saw a Whisper-Wyrm. They grow inside walls, you know. I've seen her staring at the stone like she's listening to something."
Neville raised an eyebrow, watching Luna curiously. 'Listening to the walls?'
He glanced back toward the corridor where Snape and Daphne had taken Astoria, his mind turning.
If you wish to support this story, please join me at patreon.com/Tilct
please contribute some power stone'