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Hogwarts: Neville’s Insert Chapter 43
🕑 Added 2025-03-02 18:11:09 +0000 UTCAuthor’s Note:
Hey everyone, this is last week’s chapter—sorry for the delay in uploading. I’ll do my best to stick to the upload schedule as much as possible moving forward.
Tomorrow, I’ll be uploading a new chapter of Kaito, so look forward to that!
For those wondering about Goten, I’m currently stuck on how to progress the story, so it’s on hold for now. Hope you all understand.
Thanks for your patience and support! 😊
Hogwarts: Neville’s Insert Chapter 43
Dobby’s head tilted dangerously close to the wall again, but Harry quickly added, "You could just shake or nod."
Slowly, Dobby shook his head. "Not—not Dumblydore, sir."
Harry exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his messy hair, frustration clear on his face.
Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry. "Harry Potter, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts, Dobby will never disturb Harry Potter again!"
Harry was about to speak, but Neville cut in first. "All right," he said smoothly. "I’ll make sure Harry doesn’t go back to Hogwarts. But in return, I don’t want you coming back into Longbottom Manor again or stealing Harry’s letters."
Harry turned to Neville in shock, wondering what he was doing.
Neville gave him a quick wink.
Harry hesitated, then nodded along. "Alright," he said. "I won’t go to Hogwarts."
Dobby jumped up excitedly. "Thank you, sirs! Thank you!"
Neville waved a hand. "Alright, alright. Now leave."
Dobby gave one last excited nod before popping away with a crack.
The moment he was gone, Harry sighed and turned to Neville. "Do you think it’s Dumbledore? Is he trying to test me like last term?"
Neville shook his head. "I don’t think so. Dobby did say it wasn’t Dumbledore."
…
Neville stepped out of his room, already dressed for the day. He wore a crisp white long-sleeve shirt, a fitted black suit vest, and matching black trousers. As he adjusted his sleeves, folding them neatly up to his elbows, he took a moment to admire his reflection in the hallway mirror.
He had always liked the way Newt Scamander, Theseus Scamander, and even Dumbledore dressed in the Fantastic Beasts movies. So, the moment he got back home for the summer, one of the first things he did was get clothes similar to theirs.
And he had to admit—he quite liked how he looked.
As he made his way down the staircase, he spotted his grandmother already dressed for the day, a handbag tucked under her arm.
"Hey, Gran," Neville greeted as he came to stand in front of her.
Augusta gave him a once-over, then gave an approving nod. "Looking sharp, Neville. Though you could stand a bit straighter."
She reached out and adjusted his shirt collar, smoothing it down before stepping back. "Where’s Harry?" she asked.
Neville shrugged. "Still getting ready, I think."
Just then, Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, making his way down.
He was wearing an oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans that had clearly seen better days. The fabric hung loosely off his frame like sacks, and the hems of his jeans dragged along the floor.
Augusta’s eyes narrowed the moment she saw him. Her expression was calm, but there was a steely edge to her tone as she spoke.
"Harry," she said, folding her arms, "what in the world are you wearing?"
Harry flushed and shifted awkwardly, fiddling with the frayed hem of his shirt. "Er… these are my clothes, ma’am—Gran," he corrected quickly, offering a sheepish smile. "I haven’t got anything else."
Neville could see his grandmother’s expression darken. She’s mad at the Dursleys.
Augusta let out a sharp tut. "That won’t do," she said, shaking her head.
Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Augusta cut him off.
"It’s fine if you wear them inside the house, but if you’re going out, you should wear something proper," she stated firmly. "I’ll not have you traipsing around Britain looking like that."
She eyed Harry for a moment before deciding, "You’re about Neville’s size—height and build—so you’ll wear some of his until we can get you a proper set of clothes."
Before Harry could react, Augusta turned her head and called sharply, "Clinky!"
There was a soft pop, and a house-elf appeared, bowing deeply.
"Yes, Mistress?" Clinky squeaked.
Augusta turned to Clinky and said, "Fetch Harry a suitable outfit of Neville’s. Shirt, trousers, vest—the lot. And be quick about it."
Clinky bowed again. "Yes, Mistress," he squeaked before vanishing with another pop.
Augusta then turned to Harry. "Go on, up you get. Change into the clothes Clinky brings for you."
Harry nodded and hurried back upstairs to change.
As Neville and Augusta watched him go, Augusta let out a disapproving sniff. "Those awful Muggles," she muttered. "The nerve of them, treating a wizarding heir as though he’s not even worth new clothes."
Neville, sensing an opportunity, asked, "Gran, mind if we stop by some Muggle bookstores later?"
Augusta raised an eyebrow. "Huh? Sure, but why? Do you need something for your research?"
Neville scratched the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish. "Ah, no… I just want to get some cookbooks. English food is all good, but it gets boring after a while. It’s been the same in Hogwarts, and even here."
Augusta gave him an amused look. "Are you planning to cook?"
Neville shrugged. "It’s a good skill to have."
Augusta hummed thoughtfully. "What did you have in mind?"
Neville perked up. "Chinese, maybe some Indian food."
Augusta nodded. "I suppose a little change is fine. I’ve had Indian food before—it was quite good. But I don’t believe I’ve ever had Chinese food."
Neville grinned. "I’ve heard Indian food is really good from one of my year-mates—she’s Indian. And a few others said Chinese food is great as well."
Augusta nodded in approval. "Well, I suppose we’ll see, then."
Then, as if remembering something, she asked, "Speaking of your friends, when is your friend Hermione coming over with her parents?"
Neville blinked. "Oh, right! I almost forgot to tell you—she sent a letter saying she’d be back in England next week and asked if she could visit on Saturday with her parents."
Augusta considered this for a moment before nodding. "Next Saturday works fine."
Neville thought for a moment before frowning slightly. "Gran, I was wondering—how will they get here? I mean, there’s no Muggle way to reach this place, and I doubt Side-Along Apparition with four people is safe. Hermione doesn’t have a Floo in her house—or at least I don’t think she does. And I doubt the Ministry would allow one to be installed just for this. Are we sending her a Portkey or something?"
Augusta sighed. "As for sending a Portkey to the Grangers—we can’t just create a Portkey to Longbottom Manor. First off, we’d need a license from the Ministry to make one. Secondly, it’s dangerous for Muggles to travel by Portkey. If they let go of the object before reaching their destination, they could be seriously injured—or worse. And thirdly, it’s generally not wise to create a Portkey that has direct access to one’s home."
Neville frowned. "Then how are they supposed to arrive? Are we going to send a carriage like the one from Hogwarts?"
Augusta gave him a pointed look. "Stop overthinking, Neville. The solution is a simple one—we’ll have them take the Floo from Diagon Alley."
Neville blinked. Then, realization hit him like a Bludger. He groaned and facepalmed. "I totally forgot about that."
Just then, Harry walked down the stairs, now dressed in a white shirt and brown vest and trousers.
He looked… a bit awkward.
Augusta’s sharp gaze flicked over him with satisfaction. "That’s much more like it. You look like a proper heir now, Harry. Your parents would be proud." She said it gently but firmly, leaving no room for protest.
Neville grinned. "Looks good on you, mate,"
Harry managed a shy grin as he adjusted his collar. "Er, thanks. Feels a bit odd, though."
"You’ll get used to it," Neville said with a shrug.
Augusta clapped her hands together. "Well, come along, boys. We should leave now if we want time later to buy some new clothes for Harry."
Harry’s head snapped up. "Um, Gran, you don’t have to do that—"
"Oh, hush, boy," Augusta interrupted, wagging a finger at him. "Your parents would be appalled to see you in those ragged hand-me-downs. I have the means, and since you’ll be staying with us for the holidays, I will not have you going without. Besides, you’re the heir to House Potter. Appearances do matter in the wizarding world."
Harry shifted uncomfortably. "But—"
Before he could argue further, Neville slapped his arm lightly. "Just let her buy you some clothes, mate. Don’t you want some of your own?"
Harry sighed in defeat. "Alright… thank you, Gran."
Augusta nodded crisply. "That’s better. Now, shall we? We’ll go shopping after our visit to St. Mungo’s."
They reached the gates of the manor, and Augusta held out her hand. "Grab hold, boys. We’re Apparating."
Neville and Harry took her hands, and with a sharp crack, they vanished.
With a sharp crack, Neville, Augusta, and Harry arrived on a quiet road leading to a small town.
Neville, by now, had gotten used to Apparition, so he managed to stay standing—though he felt a bit dizzy from the sudden shift.
Harry, on the other hand, was hunched over, one hand clutching his stomach, the other gripping his head as he took deep breaths.
Neville took a moment to look at the town in front of them. A weathered sign stood near the road, displaying the words:
"Welcome to Godric’s Hollow."
Augusta glanced at both of them, her sharp gaze assessing. "It seems you’re both getting used to traveling by Apparition. That’s good."
Harry, still a bit unsteady, straightened up and read aloud, “Godric’s Hollow,” he murmured. “My parents… they lived here.”
Augusta nodded. "Come along, then. The cemetery should be on the other side of town." She started walking down the road, her posture upright and purposeful.
Neville quickly jogged up beside her. "Is this place named after Godric Gryffindor?" he asked, just as Harry fell into step beside him. Neville knew Harry had lived here before Voldemort’s attack, but beyond that, he didn’t know much about the town itself.
Augusta nodded. "Yes. It is said that Godric’s Hollow is the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor. Though, I’m not sure if he was named after the place, or if the place was named after him."
Neville thought for a moment before asking, "So is this a magical settlement? I’ve read that there are wizard-only villages—is this one of them?"
Augusta shook her head. "No. While there is a large community of wizards living here, there are also Muggles."
Harry, looking around at the old houses and streets, frowned. "But how does that work? Wouldn’t people worry about getting caught using magic?"
Augusta shook her head again. "There are parts of the town that only wizards and witches can access. All the wizarding families live in that area, protected by charms."
As they walked, the buildings grew older and more worn, the streets quieter, until they finally reached an old cemetery, filled with rows of weathered gravestones.
Augusta paused at the entrance. "This cemetery is reserved for wizards and witches. Your parents’ graves should be among them," she said, before stepping through the iron gates.
Neville followed after her, his eyes scanning the rows of headstones,
Augusta walked ahead, her sharp gaze scanning the rows of tombstones. "This cemetery is reserved for wizards and witches. Your parents’ graves should be among them," she said, stepping further in.
Neville followed after her.
He glanced back and noticed Harry had stopped at the entrance, his posture stiff, his hands clenching slightly at his sides. He looked… hesitant.
Harry gulped, his eyes fixed on the rows of graves.
Neville waved him over. "Come on, Harry."
After a brief hesitation, Harry took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Neville wandered lazily around the cemetery, scanning the tombstones as he walked, searching for the Potter family’s grave.
As he ventured a bit farther in, his eyes landed on a large tomb, partially covered in dirt and moss.
Frowning, he knelt down and wiped the dust off the surface.
The name engraved on the stone made him pause.
"Ignotus Peverell."
Neville blinked. Wait… Ignotus Peverell? Peverell…
Why does that name sound familiar?
Still crouched, he tilted his head back and called out to his grandmother. "Gran, come here for a sec!"
Augusta, who had been scanning the graves for the Potters, turned around at his voice.
"Did you find them?" she asked, striding toward him.
Neville shook his head. "No, I just wanted to ask you—have you ever heard this name before?" He gestured to the engraved name on the tombstone.
Augusta’s brows furrowed as she looked down and read aloud, "Ignotus Peverell… hmm."
Neville tapped his chin. "I swear I’ve heard ‘Peverell’ somewhere before…"
Augusta hummed thoughtfully. "If I’m not mistaken, the Peverells were an ancient wizarding family—but they’ve been extinct for centuries. There’s even a story written about them."
Neville’s curiosity piqued. "A story?"
Augusta hummed in thought. "I think it’s about three brothers or something… I don’t quite remember." She turned to Neville with a curious look. "Why are you so interested?"
Neville shrugged. "The name just felt familiar, that’s all."
Augusta sighed. "Well, come on, we should help Harry."
She glanced up and paused. Not far from them, Harry stood silently in front of a grave, his posture rigid.
With a knowing sigh, Augusta murmured, "I think Harry might have found them."
She walked over to where Harry was standing, and Neville lingered for a moment, his gaze still on the Peverell name. Why does this feel so familiar? he wondered before shaking off the thought and following after his Gran.
As Augusta reached Harry, she pulled out her wand and with a delicate flick, conjured a bundle of neatly arranged white flowers.
She gently tapped Harry on the shoulder, offering the flowers. "Here, Harry."
Harry’s eyes were puffy, tears brimming at the edges. He looked at Augusta, then at the flowers, and took them with a small, "Thank you."
Neville stepped up, standing on Harry’s other side, saying nothing but offering silent support.
Harry knelt down in front of the grave and placed the flowers on top, his fingers lingering over the cold stone.
"Hey, Mum… hey, Dad…" Harry’s voice cracked as he whispered, "I’m… I’m sorry I haven’t come earlier. I didn’t even know… No one told me…"
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."
