Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 58
Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry for the late chapter. I got a bit stuck and ended up rewriting the whole thing three times. I hope you enjoy it!
Just as he zipped the pocket shut, the hall erupted in gasps.
They turned just in time to catch Harry dodging Malfoy's spells and sending him flying across the stage with a Knockback Jinx. Malfoy landed hard with a groan.
Snape walked over, yanked Malfoy up by the arm, and shoved him back into place.
Malfoy snarled, flicked his wand, and shouted, "Serpensortia!"
A snake burst onto the stage with a hiss and coiled, ready to strike.
"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily as he stepped forward. "I'll get rid of it..."
"Allow me!" Lockhart shouted, puffing out his chest.
Neville groaned softly.
Hermione turned to him, concerned. "What's wrong?"
Neville sighed. "It's nothing, Hermione."
With a dramatic flick of his wand, Lockhart tried to banish the snake. Instead, it was blasted ten feet into the air and landed with a loud smack, even more enraged.
It slithered straight toward Dean Thomas, raised itself, and bared its fangs, ready to strike.
Then—Harry hissed. Loudly.
The entire hall fell dead silent as Harry stepped forward and began speaking to the snake in a strange, hissing tongue.
Neville facepalmed. "Of course..." he muttered. 'Just had to go and speak snake, didn't he?'
…
Thursday, December 18th – Great Hall, Morning
Neville trudged along at the back of the group, a thick scarf wrapped snugly round his neck, his Hogwarts jumper pulled tight against the cold. Lumina snoozed in his front pocket, nestled comfortably with a warming charm keeping her cosy.
Hermione walked beside him, bundled up in her own jumper and scarf. She rubbed her hands together and blew on them.
"It's freezing," she muttered, her breath misting the air.
Neville gave a small nod.
"Yeah... didn't think the snow'd be this heavy already."
Just ahead of them, Harry grumbled,
"forget the snow, I still can't believe people reckon I'm the Heir. Even Seamus and Dean they've been giving me funny looks since last night."
Ron tugged his scarf tighter and muttered darkly, "Well, you could be." His voice was full of sulk, still clearly bitter that Neville and Hermione had known about Harry being a Parselmouth and hadn't told him.
Hermione huffed, throwing Ron an irritated look.
"Oh, don't be thick, Ron. It's not our fault you couldn't put two and two together. Harry's been saying he could hear voices for weeks—what else was Slytherin's monster gonna be if not a snake?"
Ron scowled, folding his arms.
"You could've told me," he muttered, sounding properly petulant.
Harry let out a heavy sigh.
"Honestly, Ron, I didn't even think about it. I didn't know it was weird 'til Neville pointed it out," he said as he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.
They stepped inside, and Harry stopped dead.
The usual morning buzz of the Hall had fallen into a heavy, awkward silence.
Every head turned to stare at him. Suspicion clung to the air like smoke.
Hermione bit her lip, looking worried.
Neville moved up beside Harry, clapping a reassuring hand on his mate's shoulder. He leaned in and whispered with a cheeky grin,
"I reckon I won that bet, eh, Harry? I told you you'd end up as the main suspect. You owe me a Galleon, mate."
Then, giving Harry a nudge by the shoulder, Neville steered him firmly toward their usual spot at the Gryffindor table.
Neville sat down just as a glass of mango juice appeared in front of him. He picked it up, took a sip, and hummed.
Harry dropped into the seat next to him, still looking a bit uneasy, while Hermione settled opposite, with Ron slumping down beside her.
Harry glanced around nervously, then leaned in a bit. "They... they don't really think I'm the Heir of Slytherin, do they?" he asked quietly.
Ron, already busy piling his plate high with sausages, bacon, and eggs, snorted. "What d'you expect, mate? You spoke in Parseltongue in front of the whole school. I reckon the entire castle knows by now."
Neville took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. ""Best get used to it,." he said with a shrug. " I reckon. Until they find the real one, they're gonna keep starin."
Then, after swallowing another bite, he added, a bit too casually, "Hopefully no one dies, or the ministry might snap your wand first, then ask questions."
Harry gulped, turning wide eyes on Neville.
Hermione, frowning, leaned over and slapped Neville lightly on the shoulder. "Stop making it worse," she scolded.
Neville rubbed his shoulder with a small wince. "Oi, what was that for? You know I'm right," he said, half-grinning.
Hermione huffed, crossing her arms. "No one asked you," she muttered.
Just then, Luna drifted over and plopped down next to Hermione, her radish earrings swinging. "Good morning," she said dreamily. "Lovely morning we're having."
Hermione gave her a look. "If by lovely you mean freezing, then yes, it's lovely."
Neville gave Luna a little wave. "Morning, Luna," he said warmly.
Harry nodded as well. "Morning, Luna. You... you don't think I'm the Heir of Slytherin, do you?"
Luna tilted her head curiously. "Are you?"
Harry spluttered, "Eh—what? No, of course not!" he said quickly, waving his hands. "But that's not stoppin' everyone else, is it?" he added, nodding towards the hall, where groups of students were whispering and casting glances their way.
Luna looked around, her pale eyebrows lifting. Then she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. They're staring because they've finally noticed your ears, Harry. According to The Quibbler's star-mapping supplement, anyone whose ears sit exactly twelve degrees from true vertical is the long-awaited Magnet for Mischief. It means the castle's minor spirits—peevish pixies, wayward quills, jam-loving portraits—will start orbiting you like moths around a bonfire. So now everyone's waiting to see which phenomenon arrives first: rain indoors, or pepper imps learning ballet on the staff table. If I were you, I'd keep a pocketful of breadcrumbs handy; breadcrumbs confuse the pixies and buy you time to flee." she said, wide-eyed.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, Luna. They're staring at Harry because of what happened last night."
"You mean Harry being able to speak to snakes?" Luna asked brightly. "I wish I could do that... I'd love to talk to animals."
Harry grumbled under his breath."Well, you can have it if you want it."
Ron, halfway through stuffing a sausage into his mouth, asked, "Anyways, what's our first class today?"
Hermione, reaching for a piece of toast, answered promptly, "Herbology first, then History of Magic."
After breakfast, they left the Great Hall and trudged through the cold hallways to the greenhouses for Herbology.
When they neared the corner, they heard a group of Hufflepuffs gathered outside the greenhouse doors, waiting for Professor Sprout. Talking about the heir of Slytherin.
"Shh," Neville shushed them, grinning and stopping them with a raised hand. Harry opened his mouth to say something. Neville clamped a hand over Harry's mouth just as he opened it.
"I'm telling you, Justin," Ernie Macmillan was saying, his voice low but urgent, "I think you should hide up in our dormitory. If Potter's marked you down as his next victim, it's best if you keep a low profile for a while."
Justin looked nervous, wringing his hands.
"I don't think he knows I'm Muggle-born, Ernie. I mean, I've hardly spoken to him in the two years I've been here," he said, voice shaky. "I mean... I don't think he knows."
"It's only a matter of time, mate," Ernie said grimly. "His first victim was a Ravenclaw, then a Gryffindor. Makes sense he'd go after a Hufflepuff next."
"You really think it's Potter, then, Ernie?" asked Hannah Abbott, her blonde pigtails swinging as she leaned in anxiously.
"Hannah," Ernie said solemnly, puffing out his chest a bit, "he's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."
There was a heavy murmur of agreement from the Hufflepuffs.
Ernie pressed on, his voice growing more serious.
"Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, beware. Potter wasn't with us in the Great Hall when it happened. And when we found that Ravenclaw third-year, he just turned up out of nowhere. And what about that first year, Creevey? He was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match, taking loads of pictures while Harry was lying there in the mud. Next thing we know, Creevey's been attacked."
"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly. "And, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"
Ernie lowered his voice in that dramatic way he always did when he thought he was saying something important, and the Hufflepuffs all leaned in closer.
"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who," Ernie said, voice low. "I mean, he was only a baby when it happened. He should've been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could survive a curse like that."
He dropped his voice until it was barely a whisper.
"That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord coming up to challenge him. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? What other powers Potter's been hiding?"
Susan Bones, who had been quiet till now, frowned and said, "But he's a Gryffindor, Ernie. Isn't the Heir of Slytherin supposed to be... well, a Slytherin?"
Ernie spluttered, caught off guard.
"Well—what's more Slytherin than pretendin' to be a Gryffindor?" he said, trying to sound confident but failing badly.
Neville couldn't hold it anymore. He burst out laughing, loud and sudden, drawing every Hufflepuff's gaze at once.
Ernie turned pale as chalk when he spotted Harry standing there with Neville, Hermione, and Ron. Justin gave a squeak and ducked behind the others.
Harry frowned at them, clearly not amused.
"Hello," he said stiffly.
Neville, still snorting with laughter, clutched Harry's shoulder to steady himself.
"The most Slytherin thing is not bein' a Slytherin at all," he choked out, wiping his eyes. "That's a good one, mate. Funniest thing I've heard all year!"
Harry, ignoring Neville, looked straight at Ernie.
"I'm not the Heir of Slytherin, Ernie."
Ernie folded his arms stubbornly.
"How're we supposed to believe you? We all saw what you did last night."
He edged back a step and added quickly,
"Erm—don't get any ideas, Potter. I'll have you know my family's been pure-blood for nine generations. Proper witches and wizards, the lot of 'em."
"I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" Harry snapped, his voice fierce and shaking a little. "Why would I want to attack Muggle-borns?"
"I've heard you hate those Muggles you live with," Ernie said swiftly.
"It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them," Harry said bitterly. "I'd like to see you try it."
Harry's voice cracked slightly, and he blinked fast like he was fighting back tears.
Neville, seeing how Harry was genuinely getting upset, stepped forward, shaking his head. "You know, Ernie," he said, "Harry being the Heir is dumb. I mean, one of his best friends is a Muggle-born."
He reached out and pulled Hermione forward, showing her off to the group.
Neville crossed his arms and looked at them all.
"Honestly, guys, think for a second," he said. "This whole Heir of Slytherin rubbish is dumb. I mean, there aren't even that many Muggle-borns in the school to begin with. There's Hermione and Justin in our year, maybe two in the year below, two or three in the year above... That's it. Out of forty or fifty students a year!"
He jabbed a thumb at the group for emphasis.
"I'm telling you, the whole pure-blood movement is the dumbest thing there is. Pure-bloods are already the majority! Always have been!"
Neville snorted and carried on, his voice getting louder.
"And as for that bollocks Voldemort,"—several Hufflepuffs flinched when he said it, and Neville rolled his eyes—" about Muggle-Borns stealing' magic from witches and wizards? That's just nonsense! I'm ninety percent sure most Muggle-Borns have some wizarding blood somewhere in their family tree."
He ran a hand through his hair, getting properly fired up now.
"I mean, think about it. When someone's born into a magical family and they don't have magic, they get sent off into the Muggle world, yeah? So, over a few generations, one of their descendants could end up getting' magic again."
Neville shrugged, huffing. "Like I said in Transfiguration—Salazar Slytherin might've just been wary of Muggle-Borns back then because of all the wars and mess between the magical and non-magical worlds at the time. Doesn't mean he wanted his House turned into some pure-blood nutjob club."
He gave a frustrated sigh and threw his arms up. "It's this sort of stupid thinking that Moldyshorts—" A few gasps echoed when he said it "uses to divide people and gather a bunch of brainless followers who can't think for themselves! Voldy's just a snake-faced git, preying on idiots!"
Neville's voice carried loud and clear across the courtyard. By the end of his rant, a proper crowd had gathered in front of the greenhouse — all the first-years from every House, even the Slytherins. Wide eyes stared at him from all directions.
There was a brief, stunned silence. Then, from the Slytherin group, Malfoy's face twisted in anger. He yanked out his wand, stepping forward.
"What did you just say, Longbottom?" he hissed, wand pointed straight at him.
Neville didn't even bother looking at him. He simply snapped his fingers — and just like at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Malfoy's arms and legs snapped together like a trussed chicken, sending him crashing to the floor.
A wave of murmuring swept through the students.
Neville turned his head lazily to watch Crabbe and Goyle rush over, struggling to pull Malfoy upright.
Hermione grabbed Neville's arm, tugging sharply.
"Come on," she hissed, desperate to drag him away before he caused even more of a scene.
At that moment, Professor Sprout bustled out of the greenhouse, looking flustered and a bit windswept.
"Well, class, I—" She stopped short, blinking at the sight of Malfoy writhing on the ground.
"What on earth are you doing down there, Mr Malfoy?" she said sharply, flicking her wand. "Finite."
Malfoy's limbs sprang free. He staggered up, shooting Neville a glare filled with hate.
"This isn't over, Longbottom," he muttered under his breath before storming back towards the other Slytherins.
Professor Sprout shook her head, brushing snow from her sleeves.
"Well... anyway, class," she said. "I'm afraid we'll have to cancel Herbology this morning. Snow came down heavily overnight, and I need to make sure all the plants survive through winter, especially the Mandrakes. So, you've all got a free period today."
Excited whispers broke out as the students started to scatter.
As they walked away from the greenhouses, Ron exhaled loudly. "You just can't resist, can you?"
Neville shrugged, looking completely unbothered. "Hey, He started it."
Hermione bit her lip, falling into step beside them."You shouldn't have said all that in front of everyone," she said, voice low. "Now they'll be targeting you." Then her eyes widened, and she looked at Neville seriously. "That's what you're planning, isn't it? You want the Heir to come after you."
Neville grinned and nodded. "Heh... easiest way to end this, Hermione," he said. 'Play on Voldemort's fragile ego, and he'll come running.'
Hermione wrung her hands, worry etched all over her face. "That's dangerous. What if... what if—" She bit her lip again, unable to finish.
"I'll be fine, Hermione," Neville said, cutting her off with a reassuring smile.
Wanting to change the subject, Neville said, "Looks like Dumbledore's not planning to buy Mandrakes from an apothecary. He's gonna wait till the ones here mature."
Harry ran a hand through his messy hair, looking uneasy. "She's right, Neville," he said. "It's dangerous, making yourself a target."
Neville just grinned. "Well... are you sayin' I'm your target, then, Heir of Slytherin?" he teased lightly.
Hermione huffed, folding her arms. "We're being serious, Neville," she said firmly. "How are you going to face a ba—"
But Neville cut across her smoothly. "Like I said, Hermione, I'll be fine. We'll worry about it when we get to it," he said, giving her a reassuring smile.
"Now—how about we go practice some spells instead?"
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