Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 102
McGonagall spoke at once. "Absolutely not. He is a Gryffindor, and I am his Head of House. I will handle it."
Hestia Jones added quietly, "If I may, Headmaster—I bear some responsibility as well. I should have intervened sooner. I'm willing to take part in supervising his detention."
Dumbledore considered it for a moment. "Very well."
He turned back to Neville. "You will serve extended detention for one month, under Professor McGonagall's supervision, with assistance from Professor Jones as needed."
Neville inclined his head. "Understood, Professor."
"In addition," Dumbledore continued, "you will lose fifty points from Gryffindor."
Neville didn't react.
"And," Dumbledore added, "you will not be permitted to attend the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend."
Neville nodded. "I understand, Professor."
Dumbledore turned his gaze toward Augusta. "Perhaps it would be beneficial if the two of you spent some time together. Talking things through can do a great deal to ease… lingering fears."
Augusta studied Neville for a long moment, then gave a short nod. "Yes. That sounds sensible."
Dumbledore gave a small, satisfied smile. "Very good."
He stepped back. "You may go, Mr Longbottom."
Neville nodded to the professors, then to his gran. "Gran."
She placed a firm hand on his shoulder as they turned to leave.
Behind them, the office was quiet.
Dumbledore watched them go, his expression thoughtful, hands folded behind his back.
…
Sunday, 31 October 1993 – Halloween Morning Great Hall
The morning sun filtered through the tall windows of the Great Hall, catching on a hundred floating pumpkins that drifted lazily among the banners and candles overhead. The usual house colours had given way to black and orange streamers, charmed bats swooped between the rafters, and every table was lined with rows of jack-o'-lanterns, each grinning wider than the last. Even the corridors had been given over to Halloween—enchanted pumpkins hovering just above the students' heads, drifting to and fro with a mind of their own.
The excitement in the hall was impossible to miss—particularly among the older years, whose laughter and chatter rose above the usual Sunday hum. It was more than just Halloween. This year, it was also the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term. The third years and above buzzed with the prospect of finally stretching their legs beyond the castle walls after nearly two months cooped up.
Neville walked into the Great Hall, his sling bag slung over one shoulder, Harry and Hermione close behind. He wore his usual—black jumper over a white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, plain dark trousers. He hadn't bothered with anything festive; there wasn't much point.
Hermione, by contrast, looked every bit the part. A bright pink jumper under a neatly knitted brown cardigan, burgundy scarf looped once around her neck. Her hair was clipped back, not a strand out of place, and a small beaded handbag swung lightly at her side.
Harry had gone for warmth over style, wrapped up in a thick grey jumper, a red shirt peeking through at the collar, his Gryffindor scarf draped around his neck, and his usual dark trousers.
As Neville made his way towards their usual spot at the Gryffindor table, he felt eyes on him
He was more than a bit annoyed at this point. The stares had barely let up over the last two weeks—ever since the disaster in Defence Against the Dark Arts. By the time he'd got back to the common room after speaking with Gran, rumours about what had happened during the boggart lesson had already spread through the castle like wildfire. And, as always, there were more versions of the story floating around than he cared to count.
The most harmless one was that he'd blown up half the classroom—which, to be fair, wasn't too far from the truth. But others were busy whispering about what his boggart had shown. Some reckoned he was afraid of himself. Others said his boggart had turned into his own family—like he was scared of them, or maybe didn't belong.
And then there was the worst one: the rumour that the boggart had said he wasn't really a Longbottom. Apparently, someone had twisted that to mean Neville was some love child, not Frank's at all. Neville didn't know who'd started that one, but it made his blood boil. Whoever it was, they were insulting his mum, and he had half a mind to confront them.
But what really got under his skin were the whispers claiming the boggart had called him a fake. Some people even said it made sense, since he'd been so different after losing his memories. Those ones stung the most—because, deep down, they hit a bit too close to the truth for comfort.
And then, of course, there were the tales about him blasting apart the DADA classroom wall. That part, at least, was mostly accurate—though the retellings had grown more dramatic by the day. Now, some were saying he'd shattered the Hogwarts wards themselves, that he was nearly as powerful as Dumbledore. Someone even dragged up the old story about the scorch mark in the bell tower—supposedly left by a failed Bombarda centuries ago—to argue that Neville's spell was even more impressive.
The more people talked, the more ridiculous the comparisons got. Especially with Lumina about; it wasn't helping that Neville had his own phoenix, either. The rumours had just grown wilder since then.
Otherwise, apart from Snape being an utter git as usual, the last two weeks had been relatively quiet.
Neville sat down at his usual spot, dropping his bag by his feet. As Hermione and Harry took their seats opposite him, a plate of croissants and assorted pastries appeared on the table, along with a steaming pot of hot cocoa. Neville grabbed a croissant and started filling it with bacon and sausages.
He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully, then muttered, "Honestly, when are they going to stop staring at me like that?"
Harry scooped some sausage and eggs onto his own plate, barely glancing up. "You should just get used to it, mate. They're not going to stop any time soon."
Hermione, buttering her toast, looked over. "Just ignore them. They'll get bored eventually."
Neville sighed. "I hope that happens soon, or I might just start cursing them if they keep staring and whispering."
Harry let out a snort, biting into a sausage. "That'll land you in even more detention than you're already in, mate."
Neville shot him a look. "I wouldn't be so cheerful about it, Potter. Remember, it's Halloween. Give it a few hours—they'll probably turn their sights on you by the end of the day."
Harry nearly choked on his sausage, reaching for his pumpkin juice and spluttering as he tried to recover. Hermione hid a smile behind her toast. "Neville, that's mean."
After a long gulp of pumpkin juice, Harry glared at Neville. "Oi. Don't jinx me. I was hoping for one normal school year for once."
Neville shrugged, taking another bite. "Normal and you don't really belong in the same sentence, mate."
Harry gave him a long look but didn't argue.
Just then, Luna wandered over to them.
"Hellu, everyone," she said lightly as she slid into the empty seat beside Neville.
Neville nodded to her. "Hello to you too, Luna."
Hermione looked up from the paper she'd been reading. "Morning, Luna."
Harry nodded. "Hey, Luna."
Luna reached for a croissant, spreading a generous amount of jam over it. As she took a bite, she looked between them, head tilted slightly.
"Are you excited to go to Hogsmeade?" she asked, sounding genuinely curious rather than enthusiastic.
Hermione glanced at Neville, a little uncertain.
Harry blinked. "Oh—er, yeah. Hermione and I are."
Neville nodded. "I'll be staying behind."
Luna paused mid-chew, tilting her head further. "Huh. Why not? Are you being kept for something important, or something unimportant that adults think is important?"
Neville shrugged. "Can't go. It's part of my punishment for blowing up the classroom. I'm banned from the first trip."
Luna hummed thoughtfully. "That makes sense," she said. "First trips always feel more symbolic than the others."
Hermione frowned. "Neville, we don't mind skipping this one. We can all go on the next trip together."
Harry shrugged. "Yeah, mate."
Neville shook his head. "Hey, don't. You two should go and enjoy it. I've already been to Hogsmeade, remember? Even if it was only Rosmerta's."
He glanced at Luna. "I'll just hang out with Luna here."
Luna nodded at once. "I don't have anything planned," she said. "Plans tend to wander off if you look at them too closely."
Neville smiled faintly and turned back to Harry and Hermione. "See? I'll be fine. Honestly, I could use the time to map out the parts of the castle I haven't finished yet."
He looked at Luna again. "You don't mind wandering around the castle aimlessly, do you?"
Luna's eyes brightened. "Oh, no. Wandering's nice. The castle shows you more things that way."
Just then, Dean, Seamus, and Ron arrived, talking loudly as they sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors—Parvati, Lavender, and Fay Dunbar following close behind.
"—I'm telling you," Seamus was saying, "the Shrieking Shack is the most haunted place in Britain. People hear screaming all the time."
Ron leaned in, eyes wide. "Wait—screaming like actual people, or ghost screaming?"
"Both," Seamus said, nodding seriously. "My cousin went to Hogsmeade last year—said the sound made his hair stand on end."
"Oh, are you talking about the Shrieking Shack? "Lavender leaned forward eagerly.
Lavender shivered. "They say anyone who goes inside goes missing a few days later."
Parvati nodded quickly. "Mum told me that too. She said never to go near it."
Ron frowned. "That doesn't sound like somewhere people should be allowed near."
Harry, who'd been listening quietly, frowned. "Is it actually haunted, though? Or is it just a story to scare people away?"
Hermione folded her paper slightly. "Most likely exaggerated. Old buildings make odd noises, especially when they're abandoned. That doesn't automatically mean they're haunted."
Neville reached for another croissant. "You do realise we literally live in a castle with ghosts, right?"
A few of them looked at him.
"I'm pretty sure Hogwarts has more than twenty ghosts living here," Neville continued calmly, adding bacon and sausage to his croissant. "Wouldn't that make Hogwarts the most haunted place in Britain?"
That gave them pause.
"Well—yes—but those are different," Lavender said quickly.
"They don't try to scare people," Parvati added, a bit uncertainly.
"I'm pretty sure they did," Neville said. "We just got used to it over time."
Seamus made a face. "Yeah, but the ones that live here aren't violent."
Neville took a calm bite of his sandwich. "Is that so? What do violent ghosts even do, then?"
Dean gave a helpless shrug. "Chuck things at you, I reckon."
Neville nodded. "But Peeves does that, doesn't he?"
He took another bite, then added casually, "I've seen Peeves try to drop a chandelier on someone. If that isn't violent, I don't know what is."
Ron snorted. "Right, but that's just Peeves being Peeves."
Neville raised an eyebrow. "How does that make it less violent? If that chandelier lands on your head, I'm pretty sure you'd be dead."
Fay hesitated. "But… he hasn't killed anyone."
Neville shrugged. "Not that we know of."
He paused, then said evenly, "And I'm fairly certain the blood on the Bloody Baron isn't his own."
That shut them up.
Lavender went a bit pale. Parvati stopped mid-bite. Even Seamus looked like he wasn't quite sure where to take the conversation next.
Luna only hummed softly. "Well… that would explain why he always looks so unhappy."
Just then, Professor McGonagall stopped behind Neville's seat and gave a pointed cough.
"Mr Longbottom."
Neville looked back at once. "Yes, Professor?"
McGonagall nodded. "Mr Longbottom, please report to Professor Jones after breakfast for your detention."
Hermione blinked. "But Professor, it's Sunday."
McGonagall nodded once. "Yes, Miss Granger. I'm aware."
Neville merely shrugged, finishing off his sandwich.
McGonagall gave a final nod and moved on.
Hermione turned back to Neville, frowning. "I'm pretty sure they don't assign detentions on Sundays. That's so unfair."
Neville chuckled. "Dumbledore probably just doesn't want me sneaking off to Hogsmeade with Lumina."
Harry snorted. "Can't blame him. I'd do the same if I had a phoenix and wasn't allowed to go."
Neville laughed. "Honestly, I was thinking of using Lumina to pop over to London to watch a movie or something. though That was before the whole castle found out about her."
Harry nodded. "Not a bad idea."
"That would be fun," Luna said dreamily.
Hermione shot them all a glare. "That's completely irresponsible. You can't just leave the school grounds whenever you feel like it."
Neville only chuckled. "You say that now, but I bet you'd join us by the end of it."
Hermione huffed, folding her arms. "Absolutely not."
But she didn't quite meet his eyes—and Neville noticed.
…
After breakfast, Neville and Luna walked with Harry and Hermione down to the Entrance Hall. Filch stood just inside the front doors, clutching a long list and ticking off names with obvious suspicion, peering at every student as if fully expecting someone to try sneaking out who had no business being there.
Hermione glanced back at Neville. "Do you want us to get you anything from Hogsmeade?"
Neville nodded, pulling out his galleon pouch and handing it to her. "Yeah. Mind getting some cake and chocolate mousse while you're there?"
Hermione took the pouch. "Cake and chocolate mousse. Anything else?"
"Right—get some treats for Lumina," Neville added. "I'm running low. You know the ones—Golden Perch. Make sure it's the brown packet. Don't get the red ones. She hates those."
Hermione nodded firmly. "Got it. Brown packet."
Neville then turned to Luna. "Do you want anything, Luna? I'm buying."
Luna brightened at once. "Prickly Pineapple Poppers," she said. "They sell them at Honeydukes. They fizz slightly if you hum while eating them."
Harry nodded, counting on his fingers. "Right. Cake and mousse for Neville, pineapple poppers for Luna, bird treats for Lumina. Anything else?"
Neville shook his head. "Nope, that's all. And seriously—brown packet. If you get the red ones, she'll sulk for a week. I don't want to deal with a moody phoenix."
Harry snorted. "Noted."
Hermione tucked the pouch safely into her bag. "We'll be back before dinner."
With a quick wave, Harry and Hermione joined the line heading toward Filch, names being ticked off one by one as they passed. Neville watched as the crowd slowly carried them through the doors and out of the castle.
He found it faintly amusing.
In the original timeline, Harry had been the one left behind while everyone else went off to Hogsmeade. Now it was him instead. Funny how that worked out.
Neville turned to Luna. "Well, I'd better report for detention. What are you doing today?"
Luna shrugged easily as they headed back toward the stairs. "Like I said—I don't have anything planned. I'll follow you for now."
Neville nodded. "Alright. You can come with me. Professor Jones usually lets me do whatever during detention anyway."
"That's nice of her," Luna said serenely.
After a while, they reached the stairs that led up toward the Defence Against the Dark Arts corridor, The castle felt quieter now, as though half its students had been drained away with the Hogsmeade crowd.
Neville stopped outside the classroom door. It was already open, but he knocked twice anyway before stepping inside.
The classroom was empty.
A moment later, Hestia Jones emerged from the adjoining room attached to the classroom, coming down the short set of stairs. "Morning, Mr Longbottom," she said. Spotting Luna, she paused. "Oh—hello. Do you need help with something, Miss Lovegood?"
Luna shook her head lightly. "No, thank you. I just came along."
Neville rubbed the back of his neck. "Right—sorry, Professor. Luna didn't really have much to do today, so she tagged along. Hope you don't mind."
Hestia waved a hand at once. "That's perfectly fine." She gave Luna a small smile. "You're welcome to stay."
She then turned back to Neville. "As for you, Mr Longbottom—I don't actually have anything specific for you to do today. I've got something I need to take care of, so just… occupy yourself."
Neville nodded. "Alright."
Hestia glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'll be back to let you go for lunch. If I'm later than one o'clock, you may leave on your own—but you'll need to be back by half two." With that, she turned and headed back up the stairs.
Neville walked over to one of the desks, set his bag down, and pulled out several sheets of parchment, a handful of rune-inscribed shells, and a few odd-looking metal pieces that looked suspiciously like scrap.
Luna sat down beside him without a word.
Neville passed her his bag. "I've got a few books in there. Pick whichever one looks interesting."
Luna nodded and began rummaging through it, humming softly to herself.
After a moment, she glanced at the spread of components on Neville's desk. "What are you making?"
Neville tapped one of the metal pieces with his quill. "Remember the Walkman?"
She nodded.
"Well," Neville said calmly, "I'm trying to make a magical version of it."
…
Moonlight filtered in through the windows of the Gryffindor third-year boys' dormitory.
The room was quiet. Everyone else was fast asleep, worn out from a full day of Hogsmeade and Halloween festivities.
Neville sat on his bed, his back resting against the headboard, legs crossed, the map book spread open across his lap. Checking it had become a habit by now.
Lumina slept perched on the bedside stand, feathers tucked in neatly after eating her fill of treats.
Neville had been kept busy for most of the day. Detention had dragged on until nearly five. Luna had left after lunch, saying she wanted to visit the thestrals and feed them, which honestly sounded better than staying in a classroom for another two hours.
Once detention ended, Neville had returned to the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Hermione came back from Hogsmeade around six, just like they said they would.
They'd brought everything he asked for—cake and chocolate mousse for him, the brown packet Golden Perch treats for Lumina, and Prickly Pineapple Poppers for Luna. Over snacks, they told him about their day: the post office, the bookshop, lunch at the Three Broomsticks, then Honeydukes and Zonko's.
After bathing and resting for a bit, they'd headed down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast. The food had been good, though there was far too much pumpkin for Neville's liking.
Now, with the tower settled and the dormitory quiet, Neville sat on his bed, scanning the castle on the map, hoping to spot a particular rat.
Then he sat up straight.
There—on the parchment.
Peter Pettigrew.
The name moved along a section of the second-floor corridor.
Neville stared at it for a long moment. Then a slow grin spread across his face.
"Found you."
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