Hogwarts: Neville’s Insert (A Neville SI)

Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 67

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Harry nodded slowly, shut his eyes, and concentrated. He opened his mouth and hissed. Parseltongue. A moment later, the sink began to tremble—then slowly sank into the floor, revealing a wide, gaping pipe.

Neville quickly pressed on the recorder, capturing Harry's hissing perfectly. He handed it to Hermione. "Here. Just in case the entrance closes again, you can use this to open it."

Hermione took it carefully, holding it tight. Then, without warning, she threw her arms around both of them, hugging them tight. "Be careful. Both of you."

She stepped back and added softly, "Good luck."

Ron gave an awkward shrug. "Yeah. Good luck, you two." His face was conflicted, his tone stiff.

Neville grinned. "I've got a feeling, Harry and I'll sort this out before any professor gets here."

Harry smirked. "Yeah, we will be fine, guys."

Hermione gave them one last look, eyes shining, then turned and ran out of the bathroom, tugging Ron along behind her.

As soon as the door shut, Neville turned to Harry. "Right. Let's use our brooms—I'm not sliding down that slimy pipe."

Harry grimaced and nodded. "Yeah, good call."

They both mounted their brooms.

Neville muttered, "Well… here we go," and pushed off, flying straight into the pipe with his wand out, casting "Lumos" to light the way. Harry followed close behind.

…

Monday, 15th February 1993 – Tunnels beneath Hogwarts, Hogwarts

Neville led the way, holding his wand in front of him to cast light as he maintained a steady pace. He and Harry flew along, following the pipe. It felt as though they had been flying for an eternity—the tunnel seemed endless.

Along the way, Neville spotted several smaller pipes branching off from the main one they were following.

After a few more minutes, the pipe level out, and then exited the pipe into a vast, open chamber.

Neville came to a hover, holding his broom steady as he lifted his wand higher. The soft light from the tip of his wand illuminated the wide cave-like space. The floor below was littered with bones—small ones, broken and scattered, like they'd belonged to rats or birds.

Harry floated up beside him, casting his own "Lumos." His voice was low, awed. "We must be miles under the school."

"Yeah… probably under the lake," Neville muttered, narrowing his eyes at the slimy walls surrounding them.

Harry glanced around. "You think this is the Chamber?"

"Doubt it," Neville said, eyeing the chamber. "Feels more like an entryway." He pointed toward a tunnel at the far end, then flicked his wand and whispered, "Muffliato"—just in case Riddle was listening in.

Neville turned to Harry. "If we're going to face the Basilisk… we need a plan."

Harry gulped and nodded. "You got one?"

"Yeah," Neville said, keeping his voice low. "A few. So hear me out—you're going to enter the chamber alone."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Wait, what?"

Neville held up a hand. "Or at least make it seem like you're alone. I'll be right there with you, under the Disillusionment Charm. it will give us the advantage."

Harry let out a breath and nodded. "Alright. Makes sense."

Neville continued, tone serious. "And I've got a feeling we'll find Tom in there. If he's anything like last year, he'll want to talk—he'll want to explain everything, show off a bit."

"Sounds like him," Harry muttered.

"If he's in there, and he starts monologuing or whatever, I want you to lunge for him. Touch him."

Harry blinked. "Touch him?"

Neville nodded. "Your mum's protection is still in effect. Same as with Quirrell last year. If you touch him, it might burn him—might even stop whatever he's doing. If we're lucky, we won't even have to deal with the Basilisk."

Harry's brow furrowed, worry creeping into his voice. "But… what if he's possessing someone? Wouldn't touching him… kill that person?"

Neville nodded grimly. "Yeah. If that's the case, we switch to Plan B. While you keep him talking, I'll be setting traps for the Basilisk. We can't fight it head-on—not without looking at it. So I'll rig something to blind it. Should buy us enough time to finish the job."

Harry nodded. "Alright. But what's the signal?"

"I'll send up a flare," Neville said. "You just run toward it, yeah?"

"Got it. But… how are we supposed to kill it?" Harry asked. "Didn't you say Basilisks are immune to magic?"

Neville nodded again, then flexed his wrist. With a click, a dagger shot out into his hand. He pressed a small switch on the hilt, and the blade extended and locked into place, forming a short sword. "With this."

Harry stared at him. "You've had that the whole time?"

"Yeah," Neville said, shrinking it back down and sliding it into a wrist sheath. "Since Christmas."

Neville continued, "Also—give me your broom. I'll hang onto it, just in case Tom tries to snatch it off you. Once you've led the Basilisk into the trap, I'll toss it back to you. Should give us an edge when we're fighting it."

He lowered himself to the ground, dismounted his broom, and handed it over to Neville. "Here."

He looked over at Harry. "You alright with the plan?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah… easier said than done, but it's better than anything I would have come up with."

Neville took the broom and gave a firm nod. "Alright—if you see Riddle, try to touch him when he's distracted. If that doesn't work, or if he's possessing someone, I'll send up the flare. When you see it, run straight to me. And remember—act like you're alone in there. At least until I give the

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I got it. Touch him if I can. If not, wait for the flare and run toward you." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

"Alright. Good luck, mate," Neville said with a nod. He flicked his wand, cancelling the Muffliato, then waved it around himself, casting the Disillusionment Charm over both his body and their brooms.

As soon as he vanished from sight, Harry climbed down onto the pipe and started forward, wand outstretched. The tip of his wand cast a soft glow ahead, lighting up the dark, damp tunnel.

Neville hovered silently just behind him on his broom, the faint hum of magic around him as he floated invisibly.

They moved slowly, the passage quiet except for the sound of Harry's footsteps echoing off the stone.

Suddenly, Harry froze.

He took a step back—nearly bumping into Neville—and pointed ahead with his wand.

Neville whispered, "Harry? What is it?"

Harry squinted, raising his wand. "What's that?"

He stepped forward a little, shining his light over something large, curled and pale.

The glow slid across a massive object. A dry, scaled shape that stretched out across the floor. "It's snake skin…" he murmured, walking up for a closer look.

Neville floated over beside him, eyeing the skin. It was huge—easily the length of a train carriage. He reached out and touched it, half-wondering if it was worth something. But as his fingers brushed the surface, the ancient skin crumbled to dust.

Neville sighed. 'Well, that answers that.'

He leaned in and whispered, "Yeah… we're close. Has to be nearby."

Harry nodded silently and stepped over the remains, moving deeper into the tunnel.

Not long after, they reached a dead end—a massive wall of smooth stone, and in its centre stood a large metal door. Snakes were carved into it.

Neville hovered close, whispering, "This has to be it, mate. Good luck. Remember the plan."

Harry gave a quick nod, then stepped forward.

He cleared his throat and hissed.

The carved serpents twitched to life, pulling back one by one. A final snake slithered in an arc around the edge, and with a low rumble, the stone door slowly swung open.

Wand raised, Harry stepped cautiously inside.

Neville followed behind him, guiding his broom quietly, making sure not to make a sound

The chamber looked just like the one Neville remembered from the movie in his past life—but everything was on a much grander scale. The high ceiling soared above them, disappearing into darkness, and the entire space felt cold and hollow.

At the far end of the chamber, a massive stone face was carved directly into the wall—an ancient, proud-looking man with deep-set eyes and a long beard. Neville guessed it must be Salazar Slytherin. The floor was slick with water, the air heavy and damp. Along the sides are shallow pools of murky green water. Multiple snake-head statues lined the walls, mouths agape, like they were waiting to strike.

Neville followed closely behind Harry as they made their way deeper into the chamber. His eyes swept the space he noticed several tunnels near the snake-head statues.

Up ahead, Harry suddenly stopped. "That's—Daphne," he said, shocked, and broke into a jog.

Neville's eyes snapped forward—and there they were. Two figures, lying motionless on the cold stone floor.

'So I was right then…' he thought grimly. 'The diary was with Astoria. And Tom must've stunned Daphne and taken her as backup when they were both in the hospital wing.'

Not wasting a second, Neville veered off to the right, steering his broom toward one of the nearby tunnels beside a snake statue. He slipped inside, dismounted quickly, and flicked his wand to cancel the Disillusionment Charm cloaking him.

He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a thick, folded cloth. Kneeling down, he spread it across the tunnel floor, then silently cast Engorgio, watching as the cloth expanded. Once it was large enough to cover the space properly, he mounted his broom again.

With a flick of his wand, Neville cast a spell that enchanted the cloth to act like a massive rubber band, ready to snap shut with force. Then, with another flick, he used a spell usually meant for laying carpet or wallpaper, stretching the cloth and fixing it tightly along the tunnel wall.

The trap was set.

The moment the Basilisk slithered through, the cloth would spring up and snap around its head, blinding it.

Just then, he heard Harry's voice echo through the chamber. "Who are you?"

Neville heard Tom's voice echo through the chamber. "No. I'm a memory… preserved in that diary."

Satisfied with the setup, Neville flew back out of the tunnel and hovered near one of the snake-head statues, peeking around its side to get a view of what was happening.

Down below, Harry stood facing a tall, dark-haired teenage boy, and unfamiliar to Harry, but not to Neville.

'That's him,' Neville thought, eyes narrowing. 'That's Tom. Voldemort's original face… Merlin, why'd he trade that in for the noseless look?'

"Are you a ghost?" Harry asked, wand still raised.

Neville watched carefully, ready to move—but then, from inside his pocket, Lumina let out a loud, sharp chirp.

"Shit," Neville cursed silently, pulling back just as both Harry and Tom snapped their heads in his direction.

…

Hermione burst out of the girls' lavatory, still hauling Ron by the sleeve. Her shoes slapped the flagstones as she tore down the corridor.

"Oi, slow down!" Ron puffed, scrambling to keep up. "Where are we going, Hermione?"

"The DADA office," she shot back without breaking stride.

"Defence class?" Ron's eyes went wide. "You mean Lockhart? Blimey, why him?"

"He's closest," she said, yanking Ron round a corner. "And if even half his books are true, he's fought monsters before."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, on paper. The bloke's a walking hair-gel advert."

"Maybe," Hermione snapped, "but McGonagall's in Transfiguration, Sprout's in the greenhouses, and we don't have time to sprint across the castle. Harry and Neville need help now, Ron."

That shut him up. They pelted up the marble staircase, careened along the first-floor landing, and skidded to a halt at Lockhart's office door—gilded nameplate and all.

Hermione hammered on it. "Professor Lockhart! Professor!"

No answer. She tried again, louder. "Sir, it's urgent!"

At last, the door cracked open. Gilderoy Lockhart peered out, half-dressed in travelling robes, a packed suitcase on his desk behind him.

"Ah—Miss Granger, Mr Weasley," he said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Terribly sorry, I'm in the middle of… er, important business. Pop back later, there's good children."

"No, sir!" Hermione pushed forward. "Harry and Neville have gone into the Chamber of Secrets. They might be facing a Basilisk right now!"

Ron nodded, breathless. "We know where the entrance is, professor—second-floor girls' loo. But we need a teacher—"

Lockhart's smile froze. "You… know where it is?"

"Yes!" Hermione said. "Please, they're buying time. We have to help—"

Lockhart dabbed his brow with a lavender handkerchief. "Well, that's, uh, marvellous news, but I—er—have a pressing engagement. Publishers, you understand. Terribly strict deadlines—"

Ron scowled. "Deadlines? Harry could be dead in an hour!"

Lockhart's eyes darted to his desk, and he said. "Look," he whispered, "it's all been a dreadful misunderstanding. Dangerous beasts? Cursed chambers? Not really my field." He edged for the bag.

Hermione stepped between him and the desk. "Professor, the school is in danger. You wrote about banishing Banshees and tussling with Trolls. Surely one Basilisk—"

Lockhart's voice quavered. "Yes, well… my book did say that…"

He exhaled shakily, then straightened his turquoise robes with a theatrical flair. "Alright, children. If you insist."

He offered a strained smile as he walked past them toward his desk, reaching into an inner pocket. "Just let me get my wand."

Hermione let out a breath of relief. "Thank you, Professor."

But before she could say another word, Lockhart spun on the spot, wand already raised.

"Obliviate!" he shouted.

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