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Hogwarts: Neville’s Insert Chapter 38
🕑 Added 2025-02-11 19:30:54 +0000 UTCHogwarts: Neville’s Insert Chapter 38
Harry and Hermione gasped, their heads snapping toward Neville in shock. But before they could shout, Neville swiftly flicked his wand at them and muttered, "Silencio."
Both of their mouths opened, but no sound came out. Wide-eyed, they scrambled for their wands, panic flashing in their expressions.
Before they could react further, Neville quickly traced a few glowing words in the air using Flagrate,
"PLEASE DON’T PANIC. I WILL EXPLAIN. JUST GIVE ME A MOMENT."
Harry and Hermione hesitated, exchanging a look before reluctantly lowering their hands from their wands, though their wariness remained.
Neville wasted no time. He stood up, flicked his wand at the compartment door, and whispered, "Colloportus." The door sealed shut, ensuring no unexpected interruptions.
Then, he waved his wand and cast a quiet, "Revelio." A faint glow pulsed through the compartment, scanning for any listening charms or magical surveillance.
When nothing was detected, he followed up with "Muffliato." A subtle buzzing filled the air, ensuring their conversation stayed private.
Finally, he turned back to Harry and Hermione, and murmured, "Finite Incantatem."
The Silencing Charm on both of them lifted.
Neville looked at them both. “I know that looked bad,” he admitted. “But I needed to make sure no one was listening before I said anything.” He raised his hand in a non-threatening gesture.
…
Hermione sucked in a breath, her hands balling into fists. “Neville,” she hissed, her voice sharp but controlled, “you have about ten seconds to explain before I hex you.”
Harry, still gripping his wand tightly, nodded. “Yeah. What the hell was that about?” He gestured to Ron, still slumped unconscious in his seat.
Neville exhaled slowly and raised a hand. “Alright, let me explain—just hear me out,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “Hermione, who escorted you when you went shopping for your school supplies?”
Hermione frowned at the sudden question but answered without hesitation, “Professor McGonagall.”
Neville nodded as if expecting that. “I asked everyone in our year the same question. I even asked the older years and every Muggle-born I could find. They all told me it was always a professor.”
He then turned to Harry. “And you, Harry? Who took you shopping?”
Harry hesitated for a moment. “Hagrid,” he said simply.
Neville nodded again, his expression unreadable. “Right. Why would Hagrid—the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts—be the one to take you shopping?”
Harry blinked. “Well… Hagrid was a friend of my parents,” he said, though there was uncertainty in his voice.
“Maybe,” Neville allowed, “but he’s also Dumbledore’s biggest fanboy.” He leaned forward slightly. “Tell me, Harry, how many times during that trip did Hagrid tell you that Dumbledore was a great wizard? That Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald? That Dumbledore was the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had? That he’s a good person?”
Harry paused, thinking back. “He… did say that a lot,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”
Neville tilted his head. “Doesn’t it?” He turned to Hermione. “Hermione, based on everything Hagrid told Harry, what kind of impression do you think Harry would’ve formed about Dumbledore?”
Hermione’s brow furrowed as she thought about it, then she nodded seriously. “He would have had a favorable opinion of him.”
Harry shook his head, frowning. “But that’s just Hagrid. He’s not like that—he wouldn’t try to manipulate me or anything.”
Neville sighed. “No, Hagrid wouldn’t do it on purpose,” he agreed. “But that’s the point. Hagrid didn’t need to be ordered to do it—he did it involuntarily because of how much he idolizes Dumbledore.”
Harry remained silent, his fingers tightening slightly around his wand.
“Neville… what are you trying to say?” Hermione asked, her voice cautious.
Neville leaned back, crossing his arms. “Harry, think about it—you were isolated from the magical world your whole life. No books, no stories, no anything. The first thing you heard about Dumbledore was from Hagrid, the man who rescued you from the Dursleys and told you that you were a wizard.”
He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. “And then, you get to Hogwarts, and everything Hagrid told you lines up. Everyone respects Dumbledore. Everyone admires Dumbledore. The teachers—most of them—follow him without question. If someone only told you good things about him, why wouldn’t you think he’s a great man?”
Harry looked down at the book still in his hands. “I don’t know…” he muttered.
Neville let out a small breath before saying, “Alright, let’s move on. Remember when I asked you how you met Mrs. Weasley? You told me that after Hagrid left, you were confused at the station, and she was the one who helped you find Platform 9¾.”
Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah?”
Neville looked at him seriously. “Didn’t you find it odd that she was shouting about Platform 9¾ in the middle of a Muggle train station?”
Harry and Hermione both frowned.
“She went to Hogwarts for seven years herself,” Neville pointed out. “Then another seven years while Bill and Charlie were there. Then Percy, Fred, George—Ron last year.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why would she need to loudly announce the platform she’s used for over a decade?”
Hermione’s mouth parted slightly as realization dawned. “You’re saying… she did it on purpose?”
Neville nodded, watching Harry carefully. “I reckon she was told, Harry,” he said steadily. “She was told to keep an eye out for you.”
Harry shook his head immediately. “That can’t be right,” he muttered, though there was hesitation in his voice. “She was just being nice…”
Neville nodded. “It was too convenient, don’t you think? She just so happened to be there at the exact moment Harry needed help? And instead of quietly showing him the way, she makes a scene?” He looked straight at Harry.
Harry frowned. “But why?”
Neville shrugged “If I had to guess,” he said, “it was to make sure you formed a good opinion of the Weasley family. Dumbledore wanted you close to them. Maybe so you’d be more likely to go there in the summer, or so you’d have a certain group of friends.
Harry blinked, confused. “But what does that—”
Neville pressed on, his voice lowering. “Harry, have you ever noticed that Ron actively made it hard for you to make friends with anyone else?”
Hermione straightened at that, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.
Neville turned to her. “Hermione, don’t tell me you didn’t notice it too. Ron always tried to keep Harry away from us—he constantly distracted him. And whenever someone else tried to befriend Harry, Ron would get… hostile.”
Hermione hesitated before nodding slowly. “Now that you mention it… he did seem to do that.”
Harry’s face twisted with discomfort. “Are you saying Ron was in on this?”
Neville lifted a hand. “I don’t know if he was in on it. He might have been… or he might have been compelled to be your friend and keep you away from others. Or maybe he’s just naturally… possessive.”
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes serious. “But don’t you find it suspicious that for almost half a year, your only friend was the one whose mother was possibly sent to look out for you at King’s Cross?”
Neville said calmly. “And think about it, Harry—what if Ron wasn’t the first person you met? What if you ended up sitting with someone else? Wouldn’t things have turned out differently?”
Harry opened his mouth but hesitated.
Hermione, deep in thought, whispered, “It’s… a little too coincidental, isn’t it?”
“And that’s not all,” Neville continued, his voice gaining an edge. “Think about everything that happened this year—the Stone, the obstacles, Fluffy… Doesn’t it all seem tailored for us four in particular?”
Hermione stiffened. “What do you mean?”
Neville raised his fingers, ticking off the points one by one.
“You, Hermione—you’re brilliant at logic,” he said, gesturing toward her.
“Ron—he’s good at chess,” Neville continued.
“Harry, you’re a natural flyer.”
“And me?” Neville let out a breath. “I defeated the troll.”
Hermione paled.
Neville pressed on, his tone unwavering. “And remember Devil’s Snare? We learned about it in Herbology this year.”
Harry frowned. “Fluffy—”
Neville nodded. “Fluffy? We learned about him from Hagrid. Hagrid, the first person you met from the wizarding world. The one you trust completely.”
Harry’s expression darkened. “But Hagrid wouldn’t—”
Neville gave a small, almost sad smile. “Hagrid wouldn’t do anything on purpose,” he agreed. “But tell me, Harry… who let slip about Fluffy? Who told the wrong person about how to get past him?”
Harry’s breath hitched. “Hagrid…”
Neville nodded. “Exactly.”
Hermione let out a quiet gasp. “Oh my God…”
Neville’s eyes flickered between them, making sure they were following. “Now, ask yourself… does it really seem like a coincidence? Or does it look like we were being set up to go after the Stone?”
Silence filled the compartment.
Harry clenched his fists. “Are you saying… Dumbledore planned all this?”
Hermione swallowed hard. “But why?”
Neville leaned back against his seat. “Manipulated,” he corrected. “Dumbledore has been managing this whole year. He’s been… guiding things to go exactly how he wanted them to.
Neville leaned forward, his tone serious. “You both know that Quirrell was the one after the Stone, right?”
Harry and Hermione both nodded cautiously.
“What if I told you,” Neville continued, “that I knew it was Quirrell since the night in the Forbidden Forest?”
Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. “What?” Harry blurted, his posture straightening.
Neville nodded. “I saw his face before I blacked out.”
Hermione looked stunned. “Then… why didn’t you tell us? Or the professors?”
Neville exhaled. “I did.” He looked between them, his face grim. “When I woke up in the hospital wing, Dumbledore was there with Madam Pomfrey. I told them—both of them—that Quirrell was the one who cursed me.”
Harry frowned. “And?”
Neville’s expression darkened. “Madam Pomfrey was about to call the Aurors. But then… she froze. Like she suddenly forgot what we were talking about. And at the same time, I felt… a haze clouding my thoughts. My mind felt… fuzzy.”
Harry’s brows furrowed. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“When I came to,” Neville continued, “I saw Dumbledore putting his wand away. And suddenly, Madam Pomfrey acted like I’d never even said anything.”
Hermione looked skeptical. “But if Dumbledore erased your memory, then how do you remember it happening?”
Neville reached into his sling bag and pulled out a book. He placed it on the table between them.
“This,” he said, tapping the cover, “is a book on Occlumency. I’ve been practicing since winter break. It protects the mind from Legilimency and helps organize your thoughts.”
Harry frowned. “Legili-what?”
“Legilimency,” Neville explained. “The ability to read minds. Or, more accurately, to invade them—to see into your thoughts, even manipulate them.”
Hermione’s face paled. “Wizards can read minds?” she whispered, horrified.
Neville nodded. “Yeah. And I think that’s why the memory wipe didn’t fully work on me. I’d been practicing Occlumency for a while by then. I didn’t fully block it, but I resisted enough to keep my memories.”
Harry stared at him, completely thrown. “But… why would Dumbledore do that?”
Neville clenched his fists. “Because Dumbledore has been controlling your life, Harry. He’s always known what we were up to. He knew about Norbert. He knew about Quirrell. He knew about everything happening in Hogwarts… and he did nothing to stop it.”
Neville’s expression hardened. “That’s why he sent us into the Forest for detention. He knew Quirrell was hunting unicorns. He knew you’d run into him.”
Hermione gasped softly. “He… wanted Harry and Quirrell to meet?”
Neville nodded. “Quirrell attacking me, and Firenze saving you in the Forbidden Forest, that wasn’t part of Dumbledore’s plan. So, Dumbledore had to allow one last chance—with the Stone. That’s why he left Hogwarts that night—to make sure you followed Quirrell and it all played out exactly as he wanted. No interruptions.”
Harry frowned. “So… you think he was testing me?”
Neville shook his head. “No, Harry. Dumbledore wasn’t just testing you—he’s been manipulating you. Ever since you became an orphan.”
Harry’s face darkened. “What do you mean?”
Neville exhaled, choosing his words carefully. “Dumbledore wanted you to meet Voldemort at the end of the year. He wanted to see if the magic protecting you was still working.”
Hermione gasped. “You mean… he planned this?”
Neville nodded. “Dumbledore spent the whole year making sure you’d confront Voldemort. He tried to set it up in the Forbidden Forest, but Firenze saved you. So, he had to arrange another way—through the Stone.”
Harry’s hands clenched into fists. “But why? Why me?”
Neville looked at him seriously. “Harry, your parents weren’t the only ones Voldemort was after before he was defeated.”
Both Hermione and Harry stared at him, confused.
Neville continued. “Both my parents and your parents went into hiding at the same time. Do you know what they had in common?”
Hermione thought for a moment. “…They both opposed Voldemort?”
Neville nodded. “Yeah. They were both fighting him. And they both had babies—born just one day apart. And both families went into hiding suddenly.” His voice lowered. “According to my Gran, someone told them they should hide because Voldemort was after them.”
He let the words sink in before adding, “Do you want to take a guess who told them?”
Hermione’s face paled. “…Dumbledore.”
Harry looked between them, confused. “What are you saying, Neville?”
Neville exhaled. “I’m saying it was Dumbledore who told both our parents to go into hiding.” He paused before continuing. “I learned from my Gran that my parents were part of a group that fought against Voldemort—an organization that worked directly under Dumbledore. I think your parents were part of it too.”
Harry’s expression darkened, but he stayed quiet, letting Neville continue.
Neville took a breath. “Harry… Voldemort was after us. That’s why our parents went into hiding. He was after you.”
The compartment fell silent for a moment.
Neville then turned to Hermione. “Hermione, what is magic in its purest sense?”
She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. “Intent,” she answered automatically.
Neville looked straight at Harry, his voice steady.
"Intent, Harry. The magic that protected you. The magic that rebounded Voldemort’s attack. The magic that burned Quirrell when he touched you—it was intent. A mother’s intent to protect her child.”
Harry’s breath caught. “My mother…” he whispered.
Neville nodded. “Yes, Harry. Your mother protected you because Voldemort was after you.”
Harry shook his head, confusion written across his face. “That… that doesn’t make sense. Why would Voldemort be after me in the first place?”
Neville nodded, as if expecting that question. “Yeah, why would he, huh?” He leaned forward slightly. “Remember, I told you—your parents weren’t the only ones who went into hiding. Mine did too.”
Harry frowned.
Neville continued. “So let’s think about it. What do we have in common, Harry? We were both born around the same time—just one day apart. Both of our parents were part of Dumbledore’s vigilante group. And Voldemort was after both of them.” His eyes narrowed. “Why would he be after two babies?”
Hermione paled. “Unless… it was a prophecy.”
Harry’s head snapped toward her. “A prophecy?”
Neville nodded. “Yeah, Harry. Prophecies in the magical world are real. There’s an entire department for them in the Ministry.” He exhaled. “And I think we—you and me—were part of one.”
Harry’s face twisted in confusion. “A prophecy… about me?”
Neville nodded. “It’s the only reason that makes sense. It had to be about either of us—but in the end, Voldemort chose you.”
Harry’s breath hitched slightly. “Chose… me?”
“The only difference between you and me, Harry,” Neville said, “is that I’m a pureblood, and you’re a half-blood.”
Hermione’s eyes widened. “Wait—you think that’s why Voldemort chose Harry?”
Neville nodded. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Voldemort despises half-bloods, but he also fears them. Who’s the most powerful wizard Dumbledore ever faced?”
Hermione answered immediately. “Grindelwald.”
“Exactly,” Neville said. “And who’s the most powerful wizard alive now?”
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances before Harry muttered, “…Dumbledore.”
Neville nodded. “And Dumbledore’s a half-blood too.”
Harry swallowed hard. “So you’re saying Voldemort thought… I was the one who could defeat him? Just because I was half-blood?”
Neville exhaled. “It’s possible. If Voldemort believed in the prophecy—if he thought the one who could defeat him would be like Dumbledore, another half-blood—then he had to choose between us. And he chose you.”
Harry stared at the floor, trying to process it all.
Neville continued. “And here’s something else I figured out… I think Voldemort himself is a half-blood.”
Hermione gasped. “What?”
Neville nodded. “Think about it. If he was a pureblood, he would have kept his family name. You know how much purebloods flaunt their blood status. They’re obsessed with their lineages.”
Harry frowned. “But his name is Voldemort.”
Neville shook his head. “That’s a chosen name, Harry. No pureblood family, no matter how twisted, would name their kid ‘Voldemort’. They’d give him a proper wizarding name—one with a legacy, one that ties back to an ancient lineage. But he changed his name. That means he was hiding something.”
Hermione bit her lip. “You think he was ashamed of his real name?”
Neville nodded. “Yeah. Because if he wasn’t a pureblood, that means he wasn’t what his followers thought he was.”
