A Neville SI Chapter 6
"Dammit, where is that portrait?" Neville sighed tiredly, turning yet another corner. His feet ached from all the wandering, and his mind was beginning to fog from exhaustion. "Not even Filch's cat," he muttered under his breath, referring to the creepy caretaker's ever-watchful feline companion that usually appeared in the movie to find the students out of bed.
Neville sighed, thinking, 'Maybe I could just sleep in the Room of Requirement for tonight... but I don't even know where it is, other than it's on the seventh floor, opposite a painting.'
He was about to give up on searching for the Gryffindor common room and just sleep on the floor when he heard a voice coming from around the corner.
"Finally, someone," Neville thought, quickly rushing to the corner, not wanting to lose the person.
Rounding the corner in his haste, Neville bumped into someone, and they both fell down on their bums.
….
"Ouch," the other person hissed, rubbing his head where he had bumped into Neville.
Neville quickly stood up and looked at who he had bumped into. He saw a boy with black hair and glasses on the floor, and beside him was a brown, bushy-haired girl and a ginger-haired boy. They looked stunned, and Neville instantly recognized them as the Golden Trio.
"I'm sorry! Are you alright?" Neville asked, extending a hand to help the boy up, though he seemed perfectly capable of managing on his own.
"Yes, I'm fine," Harry replied, as the ginger-haired boy helped him up. Brushing off his robes as he stood, Harry asked, "Why were you running?"
"Neville, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked, looking concerned.
"Uh, well... I'm lost. I don't know where the Gryffindor common room is," Neville admitted, hesitating before adding, "But do you guys know me?" He was trying to keep up the act of having amnesia.
"What do you mean, 'do we know you?'" the red-haired boy asked irritably. "Of course we know you, we stay in the same room."
Neville shook his head and said, "I don't really remember anything. Madam Pomfrey said I have amnesia or something."
"Oh my," Hermione said, covering her mouth. "You can't remember anything?" she asked, Neville shook his head again, confirming her question.
"Well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later—" Ron started to say.
"Can I come with you?" Neville interrupted. "I don't know where the Gryffindor common room is. I've been wandering around for the last hour, and you're the first people I've come across.
"Fine," Ron muttered, glancing at his watch before glaring furiously at Hermione and Neville. "If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward.
As they followed Harry and Ron, Neville whispered to Hermione, "Why are we sneaking around?"
Hermione replied in a hushed tone, "Malfoy tricked these two idiots into dueling him. I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen. I wanted to return to the common room, but the Fat Lady had gone somewhere. Now, they're going to lose us a lot of house points," she ranted in a whisper. Neville nodded, absorbing the situation.
They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room. Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet.
The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues shined by the light of the torches.
They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand, ready in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once.
The minutes crept by. "He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered. Then a noise in the next room made them jump.
Harry had only just raised his wand when they heard someone speak, and it wasn't Malfoy. "Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner." It was Filch, speaking to Mrs. Norris.
Harry waved madly at the others to follow him as quickly as possible. They scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice.
Neville, already tired from the day's events, followed them around the corner just as they heard Filch enter the trophy room. "They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter. "Probably hiding."
"This way!" Harry mouthed to the others. They began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor.
They could hear Filch getting nearer. Panic rising, they broke into a run, but Neville, exhausted, tripped and fell, toppling right into a suit of armor. The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.
"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see if Filch was following. They swung around a doorpost and went down one corridor, then another, Harry in the lead, with no idea where they were or where they were going. They ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtling along it and emerging near what looked like a classroom.
"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent over, wheezing.
"I -- told -- you," Hermione gasped, clutching at her chest. "I -- told -- you."
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower," Ron said urgently, "as quickly as possible."
"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you. Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room. Malfoy must have tipped him off."
"Let's go," Harry said, urgency in his voice. But it wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled, and something shot out of a classroom in front of them. It was Peeves.
He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight. "Shut up, Peeves—please—you'll get us thrown out," Harry pleaded.
Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."
"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please," Harry pleaded.
Neville froze, looking terrified. He knew there were ghosts at Hogwarts, but seeing one in person was a completely different experience.
"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."
"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves. It was a big mistake.
Neville, still scared, whispered to Hermione, "He's not that bright, is he?" To Neville, that was the stupidest thing to do provoking someone who's blackmailing you.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, his voice echoing down the corridor. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"
Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door—and it was locked.
"This is it!" Ron moaned, pushing helplessly at the door. "We're done for! This is the end!"
Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Filch ran as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.
"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!" The lock clicked, and the door swung open. They piled in, shut the door quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.
While the others were focused on the sounds outside, Neville was drawn to something far more terrifying. A giant three-headed dog that was slowly waking up. "Shit… shit… shit… that must be Hagrid's," he thought.
"Umm, guys," Neville said, tugging at the closest person to him to get their attention.
"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay—get off, Neville!" he shouted, as Neville had been tugging at his bathrobe for the last minute.
"That you f… idiot," Neville nearly cursed, stopping himself just in time. The three-headed dog was fully awake now, staring down at them with menacing growls.
"What?" Harry turned around and saw, quite clearly, what had Neville so panicked.
Without wasting another second, Neville acted quickly. He yanked the door open, pulling everyone out, and then slammed it shut behind them.
The three of them ran as fast as they could, with Neville following closely behind. Filch must have hurried off to search elsewhere because they didn't see him anywhere but they hardly cared. All they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between themselves and the three-headed dog.
They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.
Seeing the Fat Lady's portrait, Neville sighed in relief, thinking, "Finally, I can get some sleep."
"Where on earth have you all been?" the Fat Lady asked, looking at their flushed, sweaty faces.
"Never mind that -- pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward.
Neville sat down on the couch, catching his breath and thinking, "Definitely need to exercise and get into shape." It was a while before any of them said anything.
"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Ron finally said. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."
Hermione had regained both her breath and her bad temper. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
"The floor?" Harry asked. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."
"A door," Neville said, not really paying attention to the conversation.
"yes. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something," Hermione said, standing up and glaring at them. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed—before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed or worse, expelled."
Ron watched her leave and shook his head. "She needs to sort out her priorities," he muttered. "You'd think we dragged her along, wouldn't you?" he added as they walked into the Gryffindor boys' dormitories.
Entering the room, Neville saw a furnace in the middle of the room with some socks hung around it to dry, warming up the space. There were seven four-poster beds, all with red bed sheets, and three were unoccupied. Neville asked, "Which one is my bed?"
Harry pointed to an empty bed in the top right corner next to a window. Nodding a thanks, Neville walked over, plopped down, and drifted off to sleep almost immediately.
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