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Hogwarts: Neville’s Insert Chapter 44
🕑 Added 2025-03-05 19:56:29 +0000 UTCHogwarts: Neville’s Insert Chapter 44
He stayed there for a moment before slowly standing back up, returning to where he had been standing.
Neville reached out and patted Harry’s shoulder.
"Go on," Augusta said softly. "It’s all right to cry, Harry. You shouldn’t keep it bottled up."
A choked sob escaped Harry as he looked at the grave.
Neville sighed and gave Harry’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, looking up at the clear sky. He must be feeling really awful right now. After all, he just saw his parents alive in the Mirror of Erised—it probably gave him some hope. And now, standing in front of their graves… it must have hit him hard.
After a while, Harry slowly calmed down. Augusta, ever prepared, conjured a handkerchief and handed it to him.
"Feeling better?" she asked gently.
Harry nodded and took the tissue, wiping his eyes. "Th-thank you."
Augusta nodded. "Your parents were brave, Harry. They loved you fiercely. I know they’d be proud of who you’re becoming."
Harry nodded again, his gaze lingering on the headstone.
Neville gave his shoulder another reassuring pat. "You okay?"
Harry swallowed, pressing his lips together to keep more tears from spilling. He took a deep breath and stepped back.
"Let’s… let’s go," he said softly. "I think I’ve… done what I came here for."
…
July 23rd, 1992
The sky outside Longbottom Manor had begun to darken, clouds rolling in as the wind picked up slightly.
Neville zoomed past, gripping a ball tightly as Harry chased after him on his broom, a determined grin on his face.
Neville pushed forward, eyes locked on the floating ring ahead—a smaller version of the Quidditch goalposts they had set up for fun. He hurled the ball forward, aiming straight for the center—
Clang!
The ball hit the edge of the ring and bounced off, falling toward the ground.
Neville cursed. "Damn it! I missed."
Before the ball could hit the ground, Harry swooped in, catching it mid-air. In a smooth motion, he spun his broom 180 degrees and bolted toward the opposite goalpost, flying low to gain speed.
Neville leaned forward, pressing his body close to his broomstick to reduce drag, but his broom just wasn’t fast enough to catch up.
Harry reached the goal first and threw the ball effortlessly through the hoop.
Score.
Neville slowed to a stop, panting slightly. "Say, Harry," he called out, "how about we end this here?"
Harry grinned smugly, hovering just above him. "What? Afraid you’d lose even worse than now? It’s already 23 to 3—are you chickening out?"
Neville rolled his eyes and waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, gloat all you want." He glanced up at the sky, pointing at the darkening clouds overhead. "I don’t fancy getting struck by lightning. Gran would kill me if I got injured again."
Harry chuckled. "Just admit it—you’re quitting because you were losing so badly."
The truth was, Harry was actually thrilled that he was better at something Neville wasn’t. He had spent most of the summer struggling to keep up with Neville’s training in spellwork, so finally having the upper hand in something felt good.
Neville ignored him and angled his broom downward, steering toward the courtyard of Longbottom Manor.
Harry followed behind, landing just as Neville dismounted his broom.
Still grinning, Harry elbowed him playfully. "Go on, just admit it—I’m better than you at flying and Quidditch."
Neville scoffed, crossing his arms. "The only reason you’re better than me is because you had all of last year to train, and you actually like that dumb sport. " He turned and started walking toward the manor’s entrance. ”And it’s not like my old Comet can keep up with your Nimbus.”
Harry fell into step behind him. "Says the bloke who was quite keen on chasing me round the courtyard for half the morning," he teased. "If it’s so dumb, you sure spent a good chunk of time playing."
Neville rolled his eyes as they reached the broom rack just inside the house’s side door. "Let’s face it—I like a good challenge."
Both of them placed their brooms on the rack before stepping inside.
Neville stretched. "Man, I’m thirsty. I could really go for some chocolate milk."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Yeah, me too. And some cookies."
As they entered the dining room, Neville called out, "Clinky!"
With a soft pop, Clinky appeared in front of them, looking eager to serve.
"What can Clinky do’s for young masters?" the elf asked, bobbing slightly on his feet.
Neville smiled. "Can you get us some hot chocolate and some snacks, please?"
Clinky nodded enthusiastically. "Right away, sirs!" And with another pop, he was gone.
Neville walked over to the dining table and flopped into a chair, resting his head against the polished wood.
Harry sat opposite him, stretching his arms behind his head.
Neville let out a tired sigh. "You know… it’s kind of getting dull, doing the same thing over and over again."
Harry blinked. "Huh? What are you talking about?"
Neville tilted his head slightly. "You know, what we’ve been doing all summer. It’s the same thing every day. Don’t you find it getting dull?"
Harry shrugged. "No, actually. It’s the best summer I’ve ever had so far. It definitely beats being stuck with the Dursleys all summer."
Then he grinned at Neville. "But I get what you’re saying. I’d probably feel the same way if I kept losing every day. Hard to enjoy that, huh?"
Neville scoffed, pushing himself up from the table. "Says the guy who gets creamed every time we mock duel."
Harry laughed. "All right, all right, fair point." He smirked. "At least we each excel at something the other isn’t good at."
Neville smirked back.
After a moment, Harry leaned forward. "Well, we could do something different when Hermione gets here. She’s coming this Saturday, right? I’m sure she knows somewhere fun to go."
Neville nodded. "Yeah, I was thinking we could go watch a movie or something."
Harry grinned. "Knowing her, she’ll probably want to start studying for second year instead."
Neville grinned. "Yeah, but that’ll have to wait until we get our supply list." Then, tilting his head, he asked, "Speaking of school—have you finished all your homework?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah, just finished it yesterday. So, I’m free for the rest of the summer."
Just then, Clinky returned, balancing a tray piled high with cookies, croissants, and other baked goods.
"Anything else Clinky can do for young masters?" the house-elf asked eagerly.
Neville's eyes widened at the sight of all the baked goods. "Wow—this looks amazing! Thanks, Clinky!"
Harry nodded in agreement. "Yeah, thanks!"
Clinky bowed deeply before popping away.
Neville grabbed a freshly baked croissant, tearing it apart with his fingers as golden flakes crumbled onto his plate.
Dunking a piece into his chocolate milk, he took a bite and let out a content sigh. "This is really good."
Harry, eating a jam-filled croissant, nodded. "Yeah, this beats the food at Hogwarts." He took another big bite, savoring the taste.
Neville chuckled. "Buying those cookbooks was my best idea ever."
Last week, after their visit to St. Mungo’s, Neville had stopped by a bookstore and bought a few cookbooks—one of them focused specifically on baking.
To his surprise, Clinky and Tinky had been thrilled at the idea of learning new recipes. They had thrown themselves into their new cooking lessons with eagerness, and as a result, the meals at Longbottom Manor had improved dramatically.
Now, every day, Neville and Harry were treated to freshly baked bread, pastries, and all sorts of new dishes—a welcome change from the usual fare.Harry looked thoughtful as he swallowed a bite. "Do you think we could give a copy of the cookbook to the Hogwarts elves? Maybe they’ll start making this for us there."
Neville shrugged. "Maybe—but I’m not sure where the kitchen is, though."
Before they could say anything else, Tinky popped in beside them, carrying a stack of letters.
"Young master has letters," Tinky announced, placing them in front of Neville.
Neville popped the last bite of his croissant into his mouth, then took the letters. "Thanks, Tinky."
Neville sorted through the letters, recognizing the senders—Dean, Parvati, Lavender, and Seamus. There was also one from Hermione, addressed to both him and Harry, and finally, one from Ron, but it was addressed only to Harry.
Neville handed it over. "Here—Ron sent you another letter."
Harry groaned, reluctantly taking it. "No doubt he’s asking me to stay for the summer. This is the second letter this week."
Neville popped a cookie into his mouth. "Well, you didn’t reply to him. Maybe that’s why he sent another one."
Harry shot him an annoyed look. "You told me not to reply to him!"
Neville nodded. "Yeah, and we should keep it that way. Make it seem like Dobby is still interfering with your mail. Or do you want to explain to Ron why you don’t want to stay at his house?"
Harry let out a frustrated sigh and took a bite of his half-eaten croissant. "Why can’t things just be simple?"
Neville shrugged, dunking his cookie into his chocolate milk. "It’s all fate, mate. Can’t do much about it."
Harry shot him a flat look. "You mean that stupid prophecy?"
Neville shrugged again, clearly unconcerned. "You have to admit—my theory fits perfectly."
Harry sighed, staring at the letter in his hands.
After a moment, Neville asked, "So, what do you want to do about Ron?"
Harry sighed, leaning back against his chair. "I don’t know…" he muttered. "A part of me wants to trust Ron, but another part of me keeps wondering if becoming friends with him was orchestrated somehow. It’s all so confusing…"
He sighed again, running a hand through his messy hair, frustration clear on his face.
Then, looking at Neville, he said, "Back then, I didn’t really think about it, but now… I remember it clearly. It’s too suspicious."
Neville raised an eyebrow, taking a bite of his cookie. "You can remember it clearly? Then your Occlumency practice is going well."
Harry nodded. "Yeah. And the more I think about it, the less things add up. That moment on the platform—Mrs. Weasley should’ve known the platform number. She’s been there plenty of times before. But she asked loudly what the number was—practically making sure I heard her. Then she started talking about Muggles, trying to get my attention."
Neville listened carefully, chewing his cookie slowly.
"And then there’s Ron." Harry shook his head. "I don’t know if I should trust him or not. Is he in on it? I’m pretty sure he knew who I was before we met in the compartment. He walked in and said the other compartments were full—but back then, I didn’t question it. Now that I think about it… he came in as soon as the train left. Meaning, he already knew who I was and was looking for me."
Harry sighed again, rubbing his face before running a hand through his hair again. "And at school, it felt like he was always making sure I didn’t become friends with anyone else. Every time you or Hermione tried to talk to me after classes, he’d always pull me away, saying, ‘Come on, Harry, let’s go do something else.’"
Neville grimaced. "I think that might have just been Ron’s personality, mate."
Harry let out another deep sigh. "I don’t know what to do anymore."
Neville stared down at his cup of hot chocolate, feeling a twinge of guilt about separating Harry from Ron. But at the same time, he knew that nothing was ever a coincidence when Dumbledore was involved.
He took one last sip of his drink, then set the cup down and stood up. "Well, I’m going to take a bath and then do some studying," he said, stretching his arms. "You should probably get some rest, Harry."
Comments
f_2004_nashef
Thx for the chapter
