Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 103
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."
…
Monday, 1st November 1993 – Midnight Gryffindor Third-Year Boys' Dormitory
Neville tapped Peter Pettigrew's name with his finger, the parchment responding at once as the map locked onto the target and began tracking the movement.
He swung his legs off the bed and set the map down on the bedside table. Bending quickly, he pulled on his shoes, movements brisk and practised.
Lumina stirred at the sudden activity, lifting her head with a soft trill.
Neville glanced over at her. "We've got to go, girl. Got a rat to catch."
She tilted her head, fixing him with a questioning look.
"No time to explain," Neville said quietly. "Come on."
He finished tying his laces, grabbed the sling bag leaning against the foot of the bed, and slung it over his shoulder. Reaching to the nightstand beside Lumina's perch, he picked up both his wand and the map.
Without another word, he moved towards Harry's bed.
Lumina fluttered her wings and flew over, settling neatly on Neville's shoulder.
Neville crossed the dormitory in silence and stopped beside Harry. Harry was sprawled face-down on the mattress, one arm hanging off the side, his glasses sitting crookedly on the bedside table.
Neville flicked his wand, casting a silent Muffliato over the area, then leaned down and shook Harry gently by the shoulder.
"Harry," Neville murmured. "Mate. Wake up."
Harry cracked one eye open, cheek still pressed into the pillow. "Nev…?" he mumbled thickly. "What is it?" He squinted at the room. "It's… late."
Neville held the map out where Harry could see it. "I need you to look at something."
Harry blinked, forcing himself upright a little. He squinted at the parchment, eyes unfocused. "What am I looking at?"
Neville tapped the moving name, now edging closer to the second-floor stairs. "That. Do you recognise the name?"
Harry reached for his glasses, sliding them on as he leaned closer. "Peter… Petti—what?" He frowned. "No. Should I?"
Neville said, "He was one of the winners of the Order of Merlin. Remember? We saw his plaque at the Ministry gala."
Harry yawned, rubbing his face. "Right… so why are you waking me up to look at it?" He squinted at the map once more, then reached up and placed his glasses back on the nightstand. "He's probably just here to meet Dumbledore or something."
Neville let out a slow breath. "Because he's supposed to be dead."
Harry stared at the map for another second, then let his head drop back onto the pillow. "Could be a ghost," he mumbled.
Neville shook his head. "No. He can't be." He pointed at the parchment. "If he were a ghost, he'd show up with a ghost marker. Look—see? All the other ghosts have one."
Harry burrowed deeper into his pillow, his voice muffled. "Then something must be wrong with the map. You said it's not finished yet, right? It's probably just making things up."
Neville sighed. "Maybe. But I'm going to check it out." He paused. "Lend me your invisibility cloak."
Harry didn't move. "Mmm… Why?"
"Because it's easier to read the map under the cloak," Neville said patiently. "If I use an invisibility charm, I'd have to make the map invisible too—and then I wouldn't be able to see it."
"Mmm… it's inside the drawer," Harry mumbled into the pillow, already drifting back to sleep.
Neville sighed again, pulled open one of Harry's drawers, and retrieved the invisibility cloak, stuffing it neatly into his bag. He glanced at Lumina and said quietly, "Looks like it's just us, girl."
He'd wanted to bring Harry along—wanted him to see for himself that Peter was Scabbers, to have proof from the start—but Harry was clearly too exhausted after Hogsmeade.
Lumina let out a soft, quiet trill from his shoulder.
Neville flicked his wand, cancelling the Muffliato, then walked back to his own bed and lifted his broom from its stand beside the table.
He didn't want the portraits reporting him leaving the common room to Dumbledore. He knew they did—and he'd rather no one knew what he was doing, especially Dumbledore.
Neville mounted the broom and glanced down at the map again. Peter Pettigrew was now on the moving staircase on the second floor.
"Alright," Neville murmured to Lumina. "Let's go."
Lumina flew out through the window, and Neville pushed off right after her.
…
Cold air rushed past Neville as he dipped lower, angling the broom toward an open window on the second floor.
He slipped cleanly through the opening and landed lightly, dismounting at once. Using the sling strap he'd attached to it, he swung the broom onto his back just as Lumina flew in a second later, settling on his shoulder with a soft flutter.
Neville pulled out the map and glanced down at it. Peter Pettigrew was now on the first floor—moving in the direction of the kitchens.
"That figures," Neville muttered quietly. 'Of course you'd be looking for food.'
He reached into his bag, drew out the invisibility cloak, and draped it over himself, making sure Lumina was fully covered as well. With a flick of his wrist, he cast a silencing charm at his feet.
"Alright, girl," Neville whispered. "Be quiet, yeah?"
Lumina gave a small nod beneath the cloak.
Map in hand, Neville moved quickly through the dimly lit corridor. Hogwarts still relied on wall-mounted torches—his MLP panels hadn't been adopted here yet—so shadows clung to the stone as he passed.
He descended the moving staircase toward the first floor, eyes never leaving the parchment. Pettigrew's name continued to scuttle along the map.
As Neville neared the Great Hall, he slowed, easing into a side corridor that ran parallel to it. Ahead lay a staircase leading down—toward the Hufflepuff dormitories and, for those who knew where to look, the kitchens.
Peter's name hovered near the stairs.
Neville slipped his wand into his hand, grip tightening as he followed the movement. He descended slowly, careful and silent.
The corridor ahead was empty, the stone walls broken only by the occasional alcove.
Then he saw it.
A small shape scurried along the wall near one of the alcoves, close to where the corridor dipped toward the kitchens.
Neville stopped.
Scabbers froze mid-step near the kitchen portrait door, nose twitching, whiskers flicking—as if it sensed something was wrong.
Neville raised his wand, making sure the cloak didn't cover it, and aimed.
He cast a silent Stunning Charm.
A jet of red light shot from the tip of his wand and struck the rat squarely before it could react.
The force of the spell hit and flung the rat into the wall behind him. It bounced once and landed on the stone floor in a limp heap.
"Shit," Neville muttered.
He tugged the invisibility cloak off himself and rushed forward, dropping to one knee beside the motionless rat. Neville flicked his wand, checking quickly.
He let out a breath when the spell came back clean.
"Thank God," he murmured. "For a second there, I thought I'd killed the bastard."
Reaching into his sling bag, Neville pulled out something no bigger than a matchbox. He placed it on the floor and flicked his wrist. "Engorgio."
The object expanded smoothly into a metal cage, runes etched along every bar. An unbreakable charm shimmered faintly across it—something Neville had prepared earlier for this exact purpose. The runes weren't just for strength either; they would allow the cage to expand and adjust to whatever was inside it.
If Peter tried to transform back, the cage wouldn't crush him.
Lumina let out a quiet trill from Neville's shoulder, questioning.
"Yes," Neville whispered. "That's Ron's rat. Scabbers."
Lumina trilled again, sharper this time, uneasy.
Neville glanced at her. "You felt it too, didn't you?"
She gave a small nod.
"Well, you weren't wrong," Neville said quietly. "He isn't actually a rat. And he's kind of a bad guy."
He lifted Peter's prone body with a wandless levitation charm and lowered him carefully into the cage. With a soft click, he locked it shut.
Lumina tilted her head, trilling softly again.
"I'll explain later," Neville said. "First, we need to get out of here."
He stood, lifting the cage by its handle.
A sharp meow cut through the silence.
Neville froze.
Slowly, he turned his head.
Mrs Norris stood in the corridor behind him, her yellow eyes unblinking, fixed straight on him.
"Shit," Neville muttered.
A moment later, footsteps echoed down the stairs.
Filch.
Neville tightened his grip on the cage and hissed under his breath, "Lumina."
She didn't hesitate.
Blue flame erupted around them—brilliant, sudden—and in the blink of an eye, they were gone.
Filch reached the bottom of the stairs just as the light faded. He squinted down the corridor, lantern raised.
"Mrs Norris?" he called. "Did you catch a student?"
She meowed. staring at the spot Neville had been standing.
Filch frowned, then shuffled toward the kitchen entrance. "Must've been someone sneaking food again," he grumbled, reaching up to tickle the pear on the portrait.
The door swung open, and he disappeared inside, lantern bobbing in his hand.
The corridor fell quiet once more.
…
The bell rang, sharp and grating, echoing through the school.
In the History of Magic classroom, Professor Binns stopped mid-lecture as the sound washed over him. He drifted a little higher, blinking as though only just realising the lesson had ended.
"That will be all for today," he said dully. "Your assignment is an essay on the Goblin Rebellion of the fifteenth century. Twelve inches. Due next week."
Chairs scraped loudly against the floor as students stood, conversations springing up almost at once as bags were slung over shoulders.
Harry and Hermione lingered toward the back, packing their things more slowly than the rest.
Hermione frowned as she slid her book into her bag. "Where do you think Neville is?" She glanced over at Harry.
Harry shrugged, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. "Dunno. He's always saying History of Magic's a complete waste of time. Maybe he skipped it."
Hermione shook her head. "Yeah, but he doesn't usually skip class like this. He would've told one of us if he was going to."
She stopped short, turning to face him. "And why didn't he show up for Herbology this morning?" she added. "You know it's one of his favourite subjects."
Harry paused. "Yeah…" He frowned. "He definitely would've gone to that."
They filed out into the corridor with the rest of the class, letting the crowd carry them along for a few steps before Hermione slowed again.
She bit her lip. "Didn't he tell you anything this morning before he left?"
Harry shook his head. "No. Like I said, he wasn't there when I woke up. He must've left earlier." He hesitated. "But—"
Hermione looked at him sharply. "But what?"
Harry ran a hand through his hair. "He woke me up last night."
Hermione blinked. "What? He woke you up last night—why?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Around midnight." He lowered his voice. "He showed me something on the map. A name—Peter something. Said it wasn't supposed to be there."
Hermione's frown deepened. "What do you mean, wasn't supposed to be there?"
"He said the bloke was supposed to be dead," Harry replied. "I was half asleep, so I told him it was probably a ghost or something." He grimaced. "He didn't agree. Said he wanted to check it out."
Hermione's worry sharpened. "And?"
"He borrowed my invisibility cloak," Harry said quietly. "Then he left."
Hermione stopped walking. Her face had gone pale, worry written plainly across it.
"Harry," she said sharply. "Why didn't you mention this earlier?"
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I didn't think it was anything at the time. He's told us himself the map isn't finished yet. I just thought it was just off or something."
Hermione bit her lip, her worry deepening. "Do you think something happened to him?"
Harry hesitated, then shook his head. "We're talking about Neville, Hermione. He's always prepared for everything."
She rounded on him, eyes bright and misting. "That doesn't mean he's invincible. That idiot's nearly got himself killed more than once." Her voice rose as the words spilled out. "What if he ran into whoever that Peter person is? What if something happened to him—what if he's hurt?"
She started pacing, agitation clear in every step.
"Hermione, calm down," Harry said quickly. "He's got Lumina with him. She wasn't on her perch this morning—she must be with him. Phoenix tears can heal anything, remember?"
Hermione shook her head at once. "No, they can't. Phoenix tears don't work on dark spells—Madam Pomfrey told us that." She fixed Harry with a look. "They're not a solution to everything."
She paused, then looked at him with resolve. "Come on. We need to find a Professor McGonagall. We don't know if he's in danger or not."
"Wait," Harry said. "Before that—let's check the Room of Requirement. I'm almost sure he's there. If he's not, then we can go find McGonagall. Deal?"
Hermione hesitated, then nodded. "Fine."
They changed direction at once, heading up toward the seventh floor near the Astronomy Tower. The corridor there was quiet, empty except for the sound of their footsteps.
Hermione slowed near a blank stretch of wall and began pacing back and forth.
"I need a place Neville would go to think," she muttered. "Somewhere private."
The door appeared silently in the wall.
They exchanged a look and stepped inside.
The Room of Requirement had arranged itself into a cluttered study. Tables were piled with old newspapers and loose parchment, and a choke board stood nearby, notes pinned across it, lines drawn between names and dates, fragments of information being carefully connected.
Neville stood by one of the tables, sleeves rolled up, flipping through an old newspaper with a thoughtful frown.
Hermione let out a breath of relief—then immediately scowled.
"Neville Longbottom," she snapped, planting her hands on her hips. "Do you have any idea how worried we were?"
Neville looked up, startled, then relaxed when he recognised them. "Hey. You two came just in time."
Harry blinked, stepping closer. "For what?"
Neville lifted a hand and pointed toward a side table. A metal cage sat on top of it. Inside, a rat lay unmoving.
"I think," Neville said calmly, "I found an unregistered Animagus."
Hermione blinked at him.
"…You what?"
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