A Neville SI

A Neville SI Chapter 26

He made his way over to the snowy white owl perched near the window. Hedwig hooted softly, tilting her head curiously as Neville approached. "Hey, girl," Neville said gently, holding out the letter. "Can you take this to Augusta Longbottom at Longbottom Manor?"

Hedwig gave another happy hoot, as if she were agreeing. Neville tied the letter carefully to her outstretched leg and stroked her soft feathers. "Thanks, Hedwig. Safe flight."

The owl gave a small flap of her wings, then soared gracefully out of the open window, disappearing into the night. Neville watched her until she was nothing more than a small speck against the dark sky.

With a sigh, he turned back to his bed and collapsed onto it, still damp from his shower. The day had been long, but seeing the Mooncalves had brought him a surprising sense of peace. He closed his eyes, listening to the muffled sounds of his dorm mates settling in for the night.

.....

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Neville muttered, shaking his head and sighing as he took in the scene in front of him.

Leaning back against the wall of Hagrid's hut, he let out another deep sigh. How did I even get here? he thought, watching Hagrid stroke Norbert's spiky head through the crate slats. The dragon let out a puff of smoke, curling its tail tightly against the inside of the crate. The whole thing felt ridiculous—smuggling a dragon out of Hogwarts? Wasn't this place supposed to be safer than the outside world? His gaze flicked toward Harry and Hermione, who were huddled together, whispering about timing and Charlie's friends.

Ron wasn't with them tonight, which was probably for the best. He was still in the hospital wing, his hand swollen and tinged green from the poisonous bite Norbert had given him days ago. Neville scowled slightly at the thought. At least that idiot got a break from all this nonsense, he thought grimly.

He'd tried—he really had—to talk some sense into them earlier in the week. "Why don't we just tell Professor McGonagall?" he'd argued, standing in front of Harry and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room. "She'd help Hagrid! She wouldn't let him go to Azkaban, and she'd probably know how to get Norbert sent to a sanctuary. She's not cruel, you know."

Harry had looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "what If she rats out Hagrid, they'll send him to prison," he'd said firmly, crossing his arms. "We can't let that happen."

Hermione had nodded reluctantly, her voice softer but still firm. "It's too risky. If anyone finds out about Norbert, it could ruin Hagrid's life. We have to do this ourselves."

Neville had thrown up his hands in frustration but didn't push the argument any further. He'd known it wouldn't make a difference. They were too focused on their plan. Rolling his eyes, he'd muttered to himself, Dumbledore probably already knows about the dragon. This has to be another one of his overly complicated schemes for Harry.

It always came back to Harry, didn't it? Trolls, restricted sections, and now a dragon. Somehow, Dumbledore let Harry stumble into danger again and again, all part of some grand plan.

Now, here they were, in the middle of the night, smuggling an illegal dragon out of the castle. Neville shook his head, glancing over at Hagrid, who was still fussing over Norbert like a proud parent.

He leaned back against the wall of the hut again, his mind drifting to a memory from a few weeks ago. He'd sent a letter to his gran, Augusta Longbottom, asking to meet her in person. She had arranged for him to visit Hogsmeade one weekend with Professor McGonagall permission,

Neville followed his grandmother into the Three Broomsticks, the warm, bustling atmosphere a welcome contrast to the chilly streets of Hogsmeade. Augusta had insisted on finding a private booth where they could sit and talk without interruption, and now they were tucked into a corner of the pub, a small wooden table between them.

As they settled into their seats, a server brought over two steaming mugs of butterbeer, and Augusta adjusted her hat as she studied Neville carefully. "Well," she began, her voice brisk but carrying a hint of warmth, "how are you getting on, dear? I trust things are going well at school?"

Neville hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Everything's fine, Gran," he replied. "Actually… better than fine. I've been learning loads, and, um, Hagrid even took us to see Mooncalves a while ago. We got to feed them and everything."

"Mooncalves, eh?" Augusta's eyes softened slightly, a rare expression for her. "That must've been quite the experience. Did you enjoy it?"

Neville smiled faintly. "Yeah. They're amazing. A bit weird-looking, but in a cute way. It was… nice to see something like that."

They chatted for a while longer, their conversation flowing easily as they waited for their meal to arrive. Augusta asked about his classes, and Neville recounted some. But as the server returned with their food, Neville, deciding it was time to address the real reason he had asked her to come.

"Gran," he began cautiously, setting his fork down. "There's… something I've been wanting to ask you. Something I need to know."

Augusta looked up, her brow furrowing. "Go on," she prompted.

Neville swallowed hard. "I want to know what really happened to Mum and Dad," he said quietly. "How could they end up… like that? What happened to them?"

For a moment, Augusta didn't respond. She let out a long sigh, her expression softening. She sat back in her chair, her hands resting on the table. "Your parents… Frank and Alice… they were Aurors," she began, her voice heavy with emotion. "They worked for the Ministry during the war. It was a terrible time, Neville. The whole country was in chaos, a civil war against… well, against You-Know-Who."

Neville nodded slowly, though he already knew the answer. "You mean Voldemort?" he asked, feigning ignorance as he tilted his head.

Augusta flinched slightly at the name, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Yes, him," she said firmly. "Though there's a reason people don't say his name, Neville. It was jinxed during the war. Anyone who said it would alert him—or his followers. That's why people still call him You-Know-Who."

Neville nodded again, filing away the information. "But… what does he have to do with Mum and Dad?" he asked hesitantly.

Augusta let out another sigh, her gaze distant as she chose her words carefully. "I don't know all the details," she admitted. "But when you were born, Frank took you and Alice into hiding. I think it was to protect you. They were both well-known figures in the war, and that made them targets."

Neville nodded slowly, already knowing most of what his gran had said. But there were still pieces missing. "I take it they were under some sort of hiding spell?" he asked carefully. "I mean, it'd be easy for someone to find them otherwise—like, wouldn't sending an owl be enough to track them down?"

Augusta nodded, folding her hands on the table. "Yes and no," she said. "There are spells to redirect owls—make them miss their target or fly in circles. But that would only narrow down the area they were in, not hide them completely." She paused, her voice lowering slightly. "No, they were under a much more powerful spell. The Fidelius Charm. It's a very complex bit of magic. It hides a secret—like the location of a house—inside a living person, called the Secret Keeper. Only the Secret Keeper can reveal the location. You can't force it out of them, not even with magic."

Neville frowned, trying to process her words. "So… if they were under a spell like that, then how did they end up… like this?"

Augusta's expression grew pained, her shoulders sagging slightly. "They weren't tortured in the house that had the Fidelius Charm," she said quietly. "I don't know myself why they left that house. But they were found by Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband Rodolphus, and his brother Rabastan. It happened in one of the cottages the Longbottom family owns."

Her voice trembled ever so slightly as she spoke, and Neville could see the sadness etched deeply into her features.

Neville's brow furrowed, his mind racing. 'Why would they leave the safety of their protected home? And how did Bellatrix and her cucks find them?' The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. 'It doesn't add up… unless it was all part of a grand plan,' he thought bitterly, knowing exactly whose word would have drawn his parents out of hiding.

Breaking from his thoughts, Neville looked at his gran, who seemed visibly saddened. "I'm sorry for making you remember that, Gran," he said softly, his voice filled with genuine regret.

Augusta let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. "No, Neville, it's alright. You have the right to know."

The weight of the conversation hung heavily between them, but they let it fade. For the rest of the evening, they caught up on each other's lives. Augusta asked him about his studies, his friends, and the goings-on at Hogwarts, while Neville listened attentively as she spoke about life at Longbottom Manor and the family's history.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready to go in a large crate. His face was red and blotchy, and his voice wavered as he explained, "He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey." He sniffled loudly. "He's got a teddy bear in there in case he gets lonely," Hagrid muttered tearfully as he adjusted the crate's straps.

Neville let out a soft snort. "Hagrid, you're a legend," he mumbled under his breath.

From inside the crate came a ripping noise, followed by the unmistakable sound of stuffing being torn apart. Neville winced. 'That poor teddy never stood a chance,' he thought.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed as Neville, Harry, and Hermione carefully draped the invisibility cloak over the crate. It barely fit all three of them and the bulky box. "Mommy will never forget you!" Hagrid wailed, wiping his eyes with the corner of his sleeve.

Under the cloak, Neville, Harry, and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances. Moving the crate was awkward and cumbersome, and Norbert was already shifting around restlessly inside. This is going to be a nightmare, Neville thought as they began their trek back up to the castle.

How they managed to haul the crate all the way back to the castle, none of them could say. Midnight drew closer as they heaved it up the marble staircase in the entrance hall, sweat dripping from their brows. The dragon inside let out occasional growls and thumps, making the already difficult task even harder. Even with one of Harry's shortcuts, the journey felt endless.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower. Neville's arms ached, and he wondered if his back would ever feel the same again.

But just as they started forward, a sudden movement ahead made them freeze. Neville almost dropped his side of the crate in alarm. The three of them shrank into the shadows, instinctively forgetting they were already invisible.

Two dark shapes were grappling with each other just a few feet away. Then a lamp flared, and the figures came into focus: Professor McGonagall, looking stern as ever in a tartan bathrobe and hair net, and Draco Malfoy, who was squirming as she held him firmly by the ear.

"Detention!" McGonagall shouted, her voice sharp enough to cut through the quiet corridor. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night—how dare you—"

"You don't understand, Professor," Malfoy protested, his voice frantic. "Harry Potter's coming—he's got a dragon!"

Neville sighed, glancing at Harry and Hermione. 'Did I mention that Ron slipped up and let Malfoy find out about us smuggling the dragon?' he thought grimly. Neville resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 'Typical Ron,' he thought, shaking his head slightly.

"What utter rubbish!" McGonagall snapped. "How dare you tell such lies! Come on—I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

As McGonagall dragged a protesting Malfoy away, The three of them waited until the corridor was silent again before resuming their climb. After what felt like an eternity, they reached the top of the tower and stepped out into the cool night air. They threw off the cloak, grateful to finally breathe properly again.

Hermione did a little jig, grinning from ear to ear. "Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

Neville chuckled at her glee. "Maybe next time, Hermione. Let's focus on getting this over with first."

Still laughing softly, they set Norbert's crate down in the middle of the tower. The dragon thrashed inside, clearly unhappy with his confinement.

"Just hang on, Norbert," Harry muttered under his breath. "You're almost free."

Ten minutes later, the sound of rushing air filled the quiet night as four broomsticks swooped down from the darkness. Charlie's friends landed lightly on the tower, their faces cheerful despite the late hour.

"You lot did well," one of them said, giving them a friendly grin as they inspected the crate. "He'll be safe with us. Don't worry."

They showed the trio the harness they'd rigged up, a clever contraption designed to suspend Norbert safely between the four broomsticks. Neville helped secure the crate, fastening the straps tightly. As he worked, he couldn't help but snort softly. 'Yeah, Dumbledore definitely knows about this. They can't just bypass Hogwarts' wards without him knowing. If it were that easy, Voldemort and his Death Eaters would've stormed the castle ages ago.'

At last, Norbert was ready. With a few final adjustments, the handlers took off, lifting the crate into the air. The dragon gave one last disgruntled thrash inside the harness, but the broomsticks rose steadily into the sky.

And like that Norbert gone.

Neville, Harry, and Hermione stood there for a moment in silence, watching as the dark shapes vanished into the starry sky. Relief flooded through them, and they let out a collective sigh. The weight of the dragon—literal and metaphorical—was finally gone. Quietly, they slipped back down the spiral staircase.

But just as Harry stepped out of the shadows at the base of the stairs, Neville's stomach dropped. Filch.

"Harry, wait!" Neville hissed, reaching out to grab his arm, but it was too late. The lantern light flickered, and Neville cursed under his breath as Filch's hunched figure emerged from the darkness.

"Well, well, well," Filch whispered, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. "We are in trouble."

Without missing a beat, Neville pulled the invisibility cloak off himself and threw it over Hermione, ignoring her startled gasp. "Stay hidden," he muttered under his breath. "It's better this way."

"But—" Hermione started to protest, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Just do it," Neville insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As Filch's lantern swung closer, Neville straightened up, his mind racing. It's better to follow the script, he thought grimly. Dumbledore would have made sure Harry ended up in the Forbidden Forest to meet Quirrellmort anyway. This way, at least Hermione wouldn't be dragged into the mess.

Filch's beady eyes gleamed as he swung the lantern wildly, illuminating Harry and Neville. "Caught you red-handed," he sneered, his delight practically radiating off him. "Sneaking around at this hour, eh? Up to no good as always, Potter."

Neville said nothing, keeping his expression carefully neutral. He wasn't about to give Filch the satisfaction of a reaction.

"Come on, then," Filch growled, motioning with his lantern. "Professor McGonagall will deal with you lot. She'll know what to do with troublemakers like you."

They were marched straight to Professor McGonagall's office, where Malfoy was already waiting. He stood in the corner, his face a mix of smugness and nervousness, clearly not expecting to see Harry and Neville being dragged in as well.

Professor McGonagall, standing tall and fierce, looked angrier than Neville had ever seen her. She loomed over them, her tartan dressing gown adding an extra layer of authority. "I would never have believed it of any of you," she snapped, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. "Mr. Filch says you were up in the Astronomy Tower. It's one o'clock in the morning! Explain yourselves."

Neville stayed quiet, his mind racing. He needed to steer this away from the dragon. If she doesn't ask, don't volunteer.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," McGonagall continued, her voice growing colder. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to lure him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him."

Neville saw his opening and jumped in before Harry could say a word. "Huh?" he said, feigning confusion. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I don't know what dragon you're talking about."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed, but Neville pressed on. "Actually, we were waiting for Malfoy," he said earnestly. "He challenged Harry to a duel. Said Harry would be a disgrace to all Potters if he didn't show up."

Harry nodded quickly, adding to Neville's explanation.

"Rubbish!" Malfoy shouted, his face going pale. "That's not—"

"Enough!" Professor McGonagall snapped, silencing Malfoy just as he opened his mouth to protest. Her piercing gaze swept over all three boys, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"That's enough," she repeated sternly. "Three students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before!" She turned to Malfoy first. "Mr. Malfoy, I will be writing to your parents to explain, in great detail, exactly what has occurred here tonight."

Her sharp eyes then fixed on Harry, making him squirm. "And you, Mr. Potter. I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions."

Finally, she turned to Neville, her voice heavy with disappointment. "Mr. Longbottom, I expected more from you. I thought you had more sense than to let someone goad you into a challenge. I am extremely disappointed in you."

Neville felt his chest tighten as she continued. "And fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Harry gasped. His face paled as he realized what that would do to their House points.

"Fifty points each," McGonagall said firmly, her voice trembling with frustration. Her nostrils flared as she glared at them.

Neville stayed quiet, biting back the urge to argue. This whole mess could've been avoided if we'd just reported the dragon to McGonagall in the first place, he thought bitterly.

"Professor—please!" Harry tried again. "You can't—"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter," McGonagall snapped, cutting him off. "Now, get back to bed, all of you. I have never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

On their way back to the common room, Harry groaned. "One hundred points… in one night."

Neville snorted. "Must be a record," he said dryly. "Good thing Hermione wasn't caught with us. That would've made it one hundred and fifty."

Harry managed a weak chuckle but didn't say anything.

When they climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was waiting for them. The moment she saw Neville, she flung herself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. "Neville!" she cried, her voice thick with emotion. "I should've been caught with you. I'm so sorry—I should've been there."

Neville gently patted her shoulder, prying her off him. "If you'd been caught, we'd have lost even more points," he said with a faint grin. "As it is, we've already lost one hundred. No need to make it worse."

Hermione's face crumpled slightly, but she nodded, sniffling.

Neville turned to Harry with a sarcastic smile. "Get ready, mate. We're about to be ostracized by the rest of Gryffindor." He wiped an imaginary tear from his cheek and added dryly, "Ah, the wonders of peer pressure."

Harry groaned again, collapsing into an armchair by the fire. "Tomorrow's going to be awful."

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