Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 35
Neville ducked under the troll's wild swing, rolling toward the fallen club. His breathing was ragged as he tapped the club with his wand "Acusfors!" he incanted. The club shimmered, twisting and shrinking into a giant, sharp needle.
The troll shook its head again, blinking as its vision returned. Spotting Neville, it let out an enraged growl and stomped forward.
Neville pointed his wand at the needle and cast, "Wingardium Leviosa!" lifting the needle into the air and aimed it at the trolles head.
As the troll roared and took a step forward, Neville yelled, "Depulso!" The needle shot forward like a spear, piercing straight through the troll's skull. The creature froze, let out a low groan, and then toppled backward with a thunderous crash that shook the floor.
Neville dropped to his knees, panting heavily. He stared at the troll, now lying still on the ground, and let out a shaky breath.
He fell onto his bum, panting hard. Sweat dripped down his face, and his whole body felt tired from the magic he'd used.
'Good thing I came up with a strategy after the Halloween troll incident,' he thought, wiping his forehead. 'If I hadn't, I'd be squashed by now.'
Neville then looked toward the door the others had gone through.' Now I just have to wait for them to come back,,' he thought.
….
Neville sighed and flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. His body ached from exhaustion, but at least the fight was over. He had barely caught his breath when he heard the click of the door unlocking—the same door Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone through.
"Huh?" Neville turned his head, frowning as he saw the door slightly ajar. Through the small gap, Hermione's face appeared, her wide eyes scanning the room.
The moment she spotted Neville lying on the ground, her face paled.
"Neville!" she cried, shoving the door open fully and rushing toward him. Ron followed quickly behind, looking just as worried.
Neville sighed and pushed himself up with a groan, thinking, That was quick.
Hermione skidded to a stop beside him, immediately kneeling down and checking him over. "Neville, are you alright?" she asked, her voice shaky. She grabbed his arm gently, helping him sit up. "You're not hurt, are you?"
Neville sat up properly and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, Hermione. Just tired."
Ron stood beside them, staring at the fallen troll, his face a mix of shock and disbelief. "Blimey, Neville," he muttered, sounding impressed. "You… you actually took it down on your own?"
Neville nodded. "Yeah, had to. Otherwise, I'd be troll paste," he said, shaking his head. Then he glanced past them, noticing someone was missing. "Wait… where's Harry? Did you guys get the Stone?" he asked, acting confused.
Ron grimaced. "Harry went after the Stone alone."
Hermione swallowed nervously and nodded. "There was only enough potion for one person to go through the fire. Harry said he'd do it himself and told us to go back and get help. He… he went on alone." Her voice wavered slightly on the last word, her worry clear.
Ron's expression was grim. "We've got to hurry. If You-Know-Who's down there with Snape, Harry's in big trouble."
Neville, already knowing the plot, forced his face into a shocked expression. "What? He went alone?" He tried to stand, only for his legs to give out beneath him, making him fall back onto his bum. "We've got to do something! We can't just leave him down there by himself!"
"Steady on, mate," Ron said, stooping down and offering his arm to help him up.
Neville shook his head and said firmly, "No, Harry needs your help. I'd only slow you down. You should hurry and get one of the professors—quickly."
Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, clearly torn. Hermione hesitated before nodding. "He's right, Ron. We can't waste time—Harry might be in danger as we speak. I'll stay here and help Neville. You go ahead—you're faster than me anyway."
Ron looked serious as he nodded. "Alright, I'll go first then."
Neville gestured toward the bundle of fabric nearby. "Take the Invisibility Cloak with you—in case Fluffy's awake."
Ron nodded, quickly grabbing the cloak. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said before turning and sprinting off into the darkness.
Hermione turned back to Neville, offering her hand. "Here, let me help you."
Neville took her hand and stood up slowly, nodding. "Thanks, Hermione."
Together, they made their way back through the chess set and the flying key chamber. By the time they reached the Devil's Snare room, Neville was able to stand on his own.
Entering the dimly lit chamber, they were immediately engulfed in darkness. Hermione quickly raised her wand. "Lumos."
The tip of her wand glowed brightly, casting a soft light over the room.
"There's a ladder on the wall," Neville pointed out.
He climbed up first, knowing Hermione was wearing a skirt. As he reached the top, he carefully lifted the trapdoor a little and peeked through.
The faint sound of harp music still drifted through the air. That's good, Neville thought, relieved. I don't think I could cast another spell right now.
Hermione whispered up to him, "Is Fluffy awake?"
Neville looked down at her and shook his head. "I don't think so—I can still hear the harp playing."
Satisfied, Neville fully opened the trapdoor and climbed through, quickly turning back to help Hermione up. "Come on, hurry," he urged, pulling her through.
They swiftly made their way out of the room, closing the door behind them as quietly as possible.
Hermione sighed in relief, leaning against the wall. "That was so stressful."
Neville nodded. "Yeah… but we're not done yet. Come on, we should find Ron."
Just as they were about to move, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Hermione stiffened, her eyes wide with panic. "Oh no—what if—"
Neville, however, already knew who it was. "It's fine," he muttered.
Sure enough, Dumbledore appeared, his long robes billowing behind him, with Ron running close behind.
The moment she saw him, Hermione rushed forward. "Professor! Harry went after the Stone alone! You need to help him!"
Dumbledore nodded and said, "I know, Miss Granger. Please wait here. I shall go after him at once. No matter what happens, stay put until I return."
Before any of them could protest, Dumbledore strode past them, his robes billowing behind him. His expression was grim, and he moved with surprising speed. Neville rolled his eyes and thought, Yeah, good acting, old man.
Ron, still panting from running, looked at them. "Blimey, I hope we're not too late…"
They backed away from the door as it shut behind Dumbledore. Neville let out a long sigh before lowering himself onto the cold stone floor, resting his head against the wall.
"So how did you find Dumbledore?" Neville asked, looking at Ron. "Wasn't he supposed to be at the Ministry?"
Ron shook his head. "I ran into him on my way to the Owlery. He said the Minister was quite shocked to see him there. That's when he knew something was wrong, so he rushed straight back."
Hermione sat beside Neville, wringing her hands in her lap. "I do hope Harry's going to be alright," she said softly, her eyes fixed on the stone floor.
Ron stood a short distance away, hands stuffed into his pockets, brows furrowed. "He will be," he said in a quiet voice, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. "He's Harry—he's always finding a way out of trouble."
Neville nodded but didn't say what he was really thinking—Yeah, I'm sure Quirrell is dead by now. Instead, he closed his eyes, still catching his breath.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps made them all jump. The door swung open, and Dumbledore returned, but this time, he wasn't alone. In his arms, he carried Harry—limp, pale, and unconscious.
Hermione gasped and jumped to her feet. "Harry!" she cried, rushing forward.
Ron hurried beside her, eyes wide with alarm. "Is he alright, Professor?"
Dumbledore's voice remained calm, but there was an urgency to it. "He is alive, but he has had quite a scare. He used a powerful bit of magic and got knocked about in the process. We must get him to Madam Pomfrey at once."
None of them argued. They didn't want to slow Dumbledore down with questions. Without further delay, they followed him back upstairs. It was a blur of cold corridors and winding staircases until they reached the familiar doors of the hospital wing. Their footsteps echoed on the tiled floor as they entered.
Madam Pomfrey, wearing her usual starched apron, bustled over, a stern but worried look on her face. "Put him here, Headmaster," she said briskly, pointing to a bed in the corner. "What have they gone and done this time?" Though flustered, her hands moved quickly, already checking Harry's breathing and heartbeat with practiced ease.
Ron, Hermione, and Neville found themselves guided onto the beds beside Harry. Dumbledore stood at the foot of Harry's bed, quietly observing.
Hermione watched as Madam Pomfrey fussed over Harry, twisting her hands in her lap. "Is he going to be alright?" she asked in a shaky voice.
Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "He'll be perfectly fine, dear, but I won't have anyone else pestering him tonight." She threw them all a sharp look. "Honestly, students these days have no sense. Up and about at all hours… meddling in who-knows-what…"
Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Poppy." Then, turning his gaze toward the three of them, he said, "Now then, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger—please tell me everything that happened."
Hermione swallowed nervously before she began. "Professor, we found out that Professor Snape was after the Stone—"
Before she could continue, the doors to the infirmary suddenly burst open.
Professor McGonagall strode in, her nightgown and dressing robe flowing behind her. Her face was a mix of worry and frustration, and Neville thought she looked even more intimidating than usual.
"Right," she said, striding over to the row of beds, her voice sharper than Neville had ever heard it. She pressed her lips into a thin line before continuing, "I want to know what on earth you three were thinking!"
Hermione flinched at the tone, looking like she wanted to shrink into the bed.
"All these broken rules, near-death experiences…" McGonagall's eyes flickered to Harry, still unconscious, before settling on the three of them. "Do you realize how serious this is?"
Hermione, still nervous, tried to explain. "Professor, we only—"
McGonagall cut her off with a sharp wave of her hand. "Never in all my years have I heard such nonsense! The three of you, sneaking into the depths of the castle, facing Merlin-knows-what—you could have been killed!"
Ron, looking a little braver, sat up. "We only wanted to protect the Stone, Professor. We thought—"
McGonagall's voice rose, filled with frustration. "The Stone is no concern of yours! You should have come to a teacher, to me, or even to the Headmaster! Running off on your own! I've half a mind to give you all a month of detentions."
Her sharp gaze then landed on Neville, her lips pressing into a thin line. "And you, Mr. Longbottom," she said, her voice lower but no less stern. "I thought you would have learned your lesson by now, after what happened a few months back."
Neville forced himself not to scowl. He wanted to tell her that he had already warned Dumbledore about Quirrell—only for Dumbledore to Obliviate both him and Madam Pomfrey. But he clenched his fists instead, biting back his words.
Dumbledore, who had remained silent, gently placed a hand on McGonagall's shoulder. "Minerva, I think we should allow them to tell their side of the story." Though his voice was quiet, it was enough to make her pause.
McGonagall let out a long breath, shaking her head. "Reckless, foolish, and completely unacceptable," she muttered. But she didn't argue further.
Neville exhaled, relieved the lecture was coming to an end. He wasn't about to apologize—not when all of this was Dumbledore's grand scheme from the start.
Dumbledore turned his head, his eyes settling on Ron, Neville, and Hermione. "Before we discuss matters of punishment," he said, his tone gentler, "I would like to hear precisely what happened below. We must have a clear account."
Madam Pomfrey had finished her checks on Harry but lingered nearby, clearly keeping an eye on them all. She looked at Dumbledore with a pointed frown. "Albus, these children need rest. Please keep your questions brief."
"Ah, yes, Poppy," Dumbledore said with a small nod before turning back to Neville, Ron, and Hermione. "Now, would you be so kind as to explain how you ended up there in the first place? What led you to go after the Stone on your own?"
Hermione shifted on the bed, twisting her hands together. "Well, Professor," she began hesitantly, "we… we thought that Professor Snape was after the Stone. We saw him acting suspiciously earlier in the school year, and—"
Dumbledore held up a hand, stopping her gently. "Miss Granger, I must stop you there. Professor Snape was not the one after the Stone."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "But—but we saw him with a cut on his leg after the troll at Halloween! And we heard him threatening Professor Quirrell once, and—"
Dumbledore gave a small, sad smile. "I understand your suspicions, Miss Granger. But I assure you, it was not Severus who went after the Stone. It was Professor Quirrell."
Ron looked stunned. "Quirrell?" he repeated, blinking. "You mean that stuttering, timid bloke who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
Dumbledore inclined his head. "Yes, indeed. I am afraid he deceived us all."
Hermione stared, mouth slightly open. "That's… that's barmy."
Neville stayed silent, his expression unreadable. Yeah, sure, 'deceived us all'—except you, Dumbledore. You knew exactly what was going on. He didn't say anything, though.
Neville forced his face into an expression of shock, pretending to be surprised. "Professor Quirrell?" he managed. "But how?"
Dumbledore's mouth formed a grim line. "I am afraid so, He was… more cunning than we gave him credit for. He harbored a great evil, and tonight, he made his final move. Thanks to all of you—and especially to Harry's bravery—his plan was stopped."
Ron glanced at Hermione, then at Neville. Seeing the cue, Neville spoke up. "Well… the centaurs told Harry that You-Know-Who was after the Stone. At the time, we thought Professor Snape was involved because we saw him with a bite on his leg after the troll on Halloween." He paused briefly before continuing. "Then we found out that Hagrid let slip how to get past Fluffy when he got drunk in Hogsmeade. We tried to find you, sir, but we couldn't. Professor McGonagall told us you had gone to the Ministry on urgent business, and we panicked. We thought we had no choice. We went through the trapdoor to stop him ourselves."
Hermione nodded quickly, adding, "We wanted to tell Professor McGonagall, but we…"
Neville stepped in again, his voice steady but carrying just the right amount of hesitation. "To be honest, Professor, we didn't think she would believe us. After the dragon incident, she was clipped with me and Harry—she barely tolerated us. She only started being a little less strict after the forest incident."
He took a breath, lowering his eyes to the floor to add to the act. "We didn't want to get on her bad side again. We didn't want to risk ruining the small bit of trust we'd just regained." He hesitated for effect before finishing, "We should have told a professor, and we're sorry that we didn't. We just… we panicked after learning that Voldemort was after the Stone."
Dumbledore watched them quietly, his blue eyes unreadable, but Neville knew that this was exactly the kind of answer the old man wanted to hear—an excuse he could work with.
Hermione, however, still looked anxious. "Are we… are we going to be expelled, Professor?" she asked hesitantly.
McGonagall sighed. "That decision is not mine to make."
Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on McGonagall's shoulder. Though he spoke softly, it was enough to make her pause. "Minerva, we should be too harsh on them After all they have done something very brave, though not entirely wise. We should be thankful that they are safe."
McGonagall's expression softened—just slightly. She still looked stern, her lips pressed tightly together, but the blazing anger in her eyes dimmed. She exhaled sharply and folded her arms across her chest. "I suppose you are right, Albus," she said, though there was still frustration in her tone.
Madam Pomfrey, who had been remarkably patient up until now, decided she'd had enough of the excitement. She bustled forward, hands firmly on her hips. "That's quite enough!" she snapped. "Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, if you please—these children need rest! They've been through a right ordeal, and I will not have them troubled further. Out! All of you!"
Dumbledore inclined his head, his eyes twinkling slightly. "Of course, Poppy." He turned to Neville, Ron, and Hermione, giving them a kindly glance. "You three should rest. There will be plenty to discuss in the days ahead, but for now, recover your strength."
As Madam Pomfrey shooed the professors away, she checked over them one last time, muttering under her breath about reckless children. They were each given a dose of Wiggenweld Potion, the warm liquid easing their lingering exhaustion, and told to sleep.
Hermione, perched on the edge of the bed beside Neville, ran a hand across her brow, letting out a slow breath. "I just can't believe it was Professor Quirrell all along," she said, voice low. "And poor Harry had to face him alone."
Ron, sitting on his own bed, fiddled with the hem of his sheets. "At least Harry's breathing," he muttered, trying to sound confident. "Never in a million years would I have guessed it was Quirrell."
Neville, already closing his eyes, let out a tired sigh. "Well… I'm just glad it's all over now."
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