A Neville SI

A Neville SI Chapter 24

Harry, who had been pacing around the dusty floor, stopped and frowned. He looked like he wanted to argue but seemed worn out. "If it really is the Stone, we have to do something," he said quietly.

Neville cut in, speaking calmly but firmly. "And what can we do, really? We're only first years. We can't stop Snape if he truly wants it. And if it's not the Stone, we're worrying over nothing." He shrugged. "I'm off back to the common room. There's a party on, and it might cheer us all up. If you lot want to come, feel free. If not, stay here and fret."

He headed for the door, leaving them to think. Hermione frowned but nodded and said, "He's right, you know. We're just kids. Let's go back to the common room." She followed Neville.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, let's head back," he said.

Ron grumbled under his breath, "No shock that she'd agree with him," and trudged after them all.

…

It was a late afternoon that felt more like early evening, and for the first time in ages, the Scottish highlands were filled with warm, gentle sunlight. Beams of soft light slipped through the tall windows of the Hogwarts library, stretching across desks and chairs, making the dust motes sparkle as they drifted quietly in the still air. It had been a long, damp stretch of bad weather lately—rain and mist clinging to the castle walls. But now, at last, the sky was a bright, clear blue, the sort of blue that made you think of summer holidays and lazy afternoons by the lake.

The library was almost peaceful. Most students, eager to enjoy the fine weather, had headed outdoors. You could guess that some would be down by the lake, soaking up the sun, or strolling around the greenhouses, or even sneaking off towards the Quidditch pitch. But here, in this hushed space, there were still a few who chose to stay inside and study. Among them were Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger, sitting opposite each other at one of the broad wooden tables.

Hermione had her head bent low over her notes, her bushy hair falling around her face. She was reviewing textbooks and crinkled bits of parchment filled with tidy writing. Exams were not far off, and Hermione took revision seriously. She always had some subject to go over, some facts to file away in her mind, determined to be as ready as possible.

Neville, on the other hand, had a large, potions book open in front of him, Practical Potioneering: A Healer's Handbook not a standard Hogwarts textbook but a book from the longbottom's personal library. These days, Neville was on a mission that had little to do with school exams. He was looking for a way to help his parents—Frank and Alice Longbottom—who had been tortured into madness by the Cruciatus Curse many years ago. The thought weighed heavily on him. As he gazed down at the pages, he tried to piece together what he knew, what he'd read, and what he could guess.

From everything Neville had learned about the effects of that curse, he understood that his parents' minds had effectively shut down to preserve the most basic functions needed for survival. The Cruciatus Curse was pure agony, as though countless white-hot knives were stabbing you at once. A body and mind could endure only so much before something had to give. For Alice and Frank, their minds had sealed off many parts—emotions, memories, even clear thoughts. According to the hospital reports, they no longer felt pain, nor did they display proper emotional responses. Still, when Neville and his grandmother visited, there were moments, tiny sparks of recognition, suggesting that somewhere deep within their damaged minds, something familiar still lingered. If those faint glimmers existed, perhaps all was not lost.

Neville had read that the area of the brain dealing with fear, emotion, and memory—the amygdala—was likely shut down or harmed in his parents. If he could somehow restart or heal it, they might return to who they once were. He had filled page after page of a secret notepad—charmed so only he could read it—with ideas and theories. Some were wild guesses, while others were more carefully considered. But Neville was no Healer, and magic for healing minds was not something deeply researched.

One idea he had seemed cruel: use the Cruciatus Curse again. The thinking behind it was that if the original cause had forced the mind to shut down, maybe the same cause could shock it awake. But Neville hated this thought. The idea of hurting his parents or people that looked like them made him sick. It wasn't even worth proper consideration. He marked it as a last resort—really, something he would never try unless there was no other option. Hurting them again? That would be monstrous.

Another idea was to try healing the damaged part of the brain if he could figure out how. Perhaps a potion might mend it. The problem was that none of the healing spells or potions that he had read about, could regrow something like the amygdala. Regrowing bones was one thing—Skele-Gro did that. But regrowing or awakening a part of the brain that governed feelings and memories seemed far beyond known magic.

Neville had even spoken with Madam Pomfrey. She told him that while healing organs was sometimes possible, regrowing one entirely was another matter. There was no known potion that could regenerate an organ or any part of it, at least not to her knowledge. Still, Neville refused to give up. Just because it hadn't been done before didn't mean it was impossible. He thought about science—he'd read that Muggle scientists had studied creatures like axolotls, which could regrow limbs and organs. If science could do something like that, then why couldn't magic? After all, they'd managed to create methods of instant transportation. Regrowing an organ should be possible too, shouldn't it?

He sighed, pressing his forehead against the desk. His head throbbed from all this thinking. Coming up with ideas was easy enough, but making them real felt like climbing a steep, endless hill.

From across the table, Hermione looked up from her notes, concern shining in her brown eyes. "Are you all right, Neville?" she asked softly, leaning toward him. She had noticed how tense he'd been ever since the Christmas break.

Neville kept his forehead on the desk and mumbled, "Yeah, I'm fine… Just thinking, that's all."

He knew Hermione wouldn't push him too hard if he didn't feel like talking. She was smart and caring but also respected when someone needed a bit of space. She gave a small nod and went back to her book, though he could sense that she was still worried about him.

It wasn't long before Harry Potter and Ron Weasley turned up. Harry approached with a small grin, Ron trailing behind, both boys looking a bit windblown as if they'd just come in from outside.

"Hey, you two," Harry greeted, sliding into a seat next to Hermione. Ron took a chair beside Neville, though Neville still kept his head down. Hermione nodded in greeting, her attention drifting back to her notes. Neville barely lifted his head, letting out a quiet grunt to acknowledge them.

Harry glanced at Neville's hunched figure. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, nodding towards Neville but directing the question to Hermione.

Hermione sighed, looking at Harry and Ron with a hint of annoyance. "He's just a bit tired, I think. You two really should be focusing on exams as well. They're not going to pass themselves, you know." She turned her stare on them meaningfully.

Harry pulled out a stack of parchment and a couple of Hermione's carefully prepared notes. "I am studying," he said with a bit of a smile. "Your notes are really helpful, Hermione."

Ron rolled his eyes dramatically and groaned, "Bloody hell, Hermione, the exams aren't until ages away." He leaned back and crossed his arms, looking as if the mere mention of studying put a sour taste in his mouth.

Hermione snapped, "Ten weeks, Ron. That's not ages! That's no time at all, not if you want to do well. Honestly!"

Ron grumbled, " You make it sound like we've got to know every fact in every book. Look at Neville—he's got a headache just from all this studying, "

Hermione sniffed, trying to look unbothered. "You do realise these exams matter for getting into our second-year classes, don't you?"

Harry tried to reason with Ron, "She's got a point, mate. We do have to pass if we want to move on. I'd rather not end up failing."

Ron thumped his head softly on the table and gave a muffled, "Not you as well, Harry."

Neville, tuning out his surroundings for a moment, let his thoughts return to his parents. He wondered how they'd ended up in such a terrible state. As far as he knew, his mum and dad had been hidden away just like the Potters. How, then, had Bellatrix Lestrange and her followers found them? Was there a traitor, as there had been for the Potters? Who had served as their Secret-Keeper?

Another question nagged at him: he knew Dumbledore had instructed both the Potters and the Longbottoms to go into hiding using the Fidelius Charm. If his mother had been Harry's godmother—now that Sirius was no longer in the picture—she should have gained custody of Harry. Neville was certain that Dumbledore hadn't helped Sirius because he wanted Harry placed with the Dursleys to shape him in a particular way. He remembered Hagrid taking Harry straight to Privet Drive after that dreadful night, before Sirius was even convicted, despite the fact that Sirius, as Harry's godfather, should have been given custody.

Now Neville wasn't sure if Alice really had been Harry's godmother, or if that was something he'd once read in a fanfiction. Still, it seemed plausible. Considering all the photographs Neville had seen of Alice and Lily together at Hogwarts and beyond, it was clear they were very close friends. If that were true, then Dumbledore suddenly became Neville's prime suspect for having leaked the Longbottoms' location.

Neville groaned quietly at the headache forming behind his eyes. "I need more information," he thought. "Maybe I should talk to Gran about this." If he understood more about what had happened to his parents, he might uncover something crucial.

He suddenly sat upright and grabbed a clean bit of parchment, causing the others to glance over in surprise. Neville wrote a quick note to his grandmother, asking if they could meet in Hogsmeade or arrange some way of having a talk. He wanted to ask her a few things face-to-face. He thought maybe he could ask Professor McGonagall if he could leave the grounds for a short time to meet Gran or sneak out if she didn't allow it. It was a long shot, but he had to try.

After folding the letter neatly and tucking it into his pocket, Neville turned to Harry. "Harry," he said softly, "would you mind if I use Hedwig later? I need to send this to my gran."

Harry looked up and gave a friendly nod. "Sure thing, Neville. Hedwig's been a bit bored, anyway. She'll like the chance to stretch her wings."

Neville managed a small smile. "Thanks, Harry," he said, feeling a little lighter now that he had a plan. It might not solve things straight away, but it was a start.

They returned to their quiet work for a few moments. Hermione went back to flipping pages and taking notes. Ron tried not to complain too loudly, and Harry attempted to absorb some of Hermione's notes.

Just then, Ron's eyes drifted towards a large shape moving between the shelves. He gave a small start and said in a hushed tone, "Hagrid! What are you doing in here?"

The others looked up, startled to see the half-giant gamekeeper shuffling through the library of all places. Hagrid looked completely out of place, towering over the shelves, trying to hide something behind his back. He wore a nervous smile that didn't quite fit under his wild beard.

"Ah—jus' lookin'," he said, glancing around as if expecting the librarian, Madam Pince, to throw him out at any second. "Nothin' important, jus' a bit o' readin'."

This was suspicious enough to get everyone's interest. Normally, Hagrid didn't poke around the library much. Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ron exchanged curious looks.

Hagrid's eyes narrowed slightly. "An' what're you lot doin' in 'ere on a day like this?" he asked, voice suddenly suspicious. "Not still tryin' ter find out about Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

Ron puffed out his chest a bit. "Oh, we found that out ages ago," he said proudly. "We know who he is, and we know what that dog—Fluffy—is guarding. it's a Sorcerer's St --"

"Shhh!" Hagrid hissed, whipping his head around. "Not so loud, Ron. Do yeh want the whole school ter know?"

Harry, trying to calm things down, said softly, "Hagrid, we're not going to shout it about. But we did want to ask you a couple of questions about… well, about what might be down there besides Fluffy."

Hagrid's eyes darted nervously. "SHHHH!" he said again, leaning forward so that his beard nearly brushed the table. "Listen, I can' talk in 'ere. If yeh want ter ask me summat, yeh meet me after dinner, outside the Great Hall. I'm not promisin' I'll say anythin' at all, mind, but don' go rabbitin' on about it in the library. Students ain't s'pposed ter know anythin' about that. They'll think I told yeh."

He straightened up, something still tucked behind his back, and began to shuffle off. "See yeh later, then," said Harry quietly, and Hagrid gave a small nod before disappearing around a bookshelf and then out of sight.

As soon as he was gone, Hermione frowned and tapped her quill against the desk. "What on earth was he hiding behind his back?"

"Probably something to do with the Stone," said Ron thoughtfully. "I mean, what else would get him to come in here? He's not the study type."

Hermione shook her head. "Not sure. But let's see what he was looking at." She started to get up, but Ron was quicker. He wandered down the aisle Hagrid had come from and returned a minute later carrying a heavy armful of books. He dropped them onto the table with a thump.

Neville, who had been trying to sort through his own worries, looked up. The titles on the covers made his eyebrows rise.

"Dragons," Ron whispered eagerly. "Hagrid was looking at dragons. Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide. He's up to something with dragons."

Harry scratched his head. "Hagrid's always wanted a dragon," he said slowly. "He told me that the first time I met him. Said he'd love a dragon as a pet."

Neville groaned internally. "Of course, the whole dragon egg thing with Hagrid," he thought, yet he couldn't deny feeling a bit excited at the thought of seeing a real dragon.

"But it's against wizarding law," said Ron, keeping his voice low. "Has been for ages—Breeding dragons was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709. Everyone knows that. And it's not as if you can keep a dragon secret for long. Too much fire, too much danger. My brother Charlie works with them in Romania and he's got loads of burns. Letting a dragon loose around here would be mad."

"But are there wild dragons in Britain?" Harry asked, curious.

Ron gave a small shrug. "A few, yeah. There are Common Welsh Greens and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic keeps them hidden from Muggles. They've got folks whose whole job is to Memory-Charm Muggles who spot them. I heard my dad talking about it once."

Hermione glanced at the books. "So what is Hagrid doing looking up dragons at a time like this? He knows it's against the law. It might have something to do with what he's guarding for Dumbledore. Or maybe he's just being—well, Hagrid."

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