Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 94
Hermione leaned forward curiously. "What's that?"
Neville hesitated, then handed her a few sheets. They were covered in rough diagrams — outlines of a human brain, labelled sections, potion formulas in the margins, and rune arrays drawn alongside them.
"Oh, Neville…" Hermione breathed, scanning the pages. "You're working on a potion that targets a specific part of the brain?" Her eyes widened. "Is this what you've been doing at night?"
Neville rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks tinting pink. "Sort of. It's just theory for now. I think the Cruciatus doesn't destroy the mind — it shuts part of it down. The bit that controls memory and emotion. If I can find a way to wake it again…"
Harry moved closer, glancing at the parchment over Hermione's shoulder. "You mean… you're trying to fix that part?"
Neville nodded, his voice quiet but steady. "That's the idea. But I'm nowhere near close. I've just been studying the basics — Madam Pomfrey lent me some of her old healing texts. Most of this is still guesswork."
"Oh, Neville " Hermione looked down at the sketches again, her voice soft with awe. "this is more than guesswork. It's… incredible."
Neville gave a modest shrug, eyes flicking toward his parents. "I just want to try."
…
Wednesday, 11 August 1993 – Longbottom Manor
Sunlight spilled softly through the tall windows of the Longbottom Manor drawing room, warming the patterned carpet and catching the dust motes drifting lazily in the air. The place had that unmistakable early-morning stillness — the quiet just before the day properly started.
Harry sat on the edge of the sofa, fiddling absently with the sleeve of his jumper while Augusta stood near the mantel, tapping her foot.
"Honestly," Augusta muttered with a sharp exhale, "where is Neville? He knows perfectly well we were meant to leave by nine sharp."
Harry glanced up, giving her a small, apologetic smile. "He's coming down, I think. He might be—well—dealing with Lumina."
Augusta let out a soft, resigned sigh. "Of course he is. Harry, dear, would you mind going to fetch him?"
But before Harry could stand, a soft trill echoed down the staircase.
Neville stepped into the drawing room, wand tucked into his belt, hair slightly mussed — and Lumina perched proudly on his shoulder like a glittering blue sentinel. She chirped at Augusta, then at Harry, as if presenting her case before either of them could speak.
Neville winced. "Lumina… we talked about this already."
The phoenix tilted her head and let out another trill — a longer one this time, lilting, persuasive.
"I told you," Neville continued, rubbing his forehead, "I can't take you along today. There'll be loads of people in Diagon Alley. We need to keep you safe."
Lumina trilled again, a sharper, almost cheeky note.
Neville stared at her. "No, you cannot hide in my shirt. You're way too big for that and you know it."
Lumina puffed up indignantly, feathers shimmering, clearly offended by the suggestion that she was at fault.
Augusta gave the phoenix a long, tired look. "Honestly. Neville, it seems this will take some time. Harry, why don't you go through the Floo first?"
Harry nodded and stepped toward the fireplace. "Right." With a handful of Floo powder, he called out, "Diagon Alley!" and vanished in a whirl of green flames.
Augusta turned back toward Neville — who was now attempting to soothe a very dramatic phoenix.
"Lumina, please," Neville muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm not being unfair. You've been here a month, I know you're bored — but I can't take you with me today. You know how rare blue phoenixes are. We've got to keep you hidden for your own safety until you're a bit older. I'll—"
Lumina let out a long, tragic trill, wings drooping as though he'd just shattered her entire world.
She looked every bit the picture of betrayal.
Neville sagged with a sigh. "Alright, alright… how about this? I promise I'll buy you some treats. Proper ones. Not the cheap stuff."
Lumina stopped mid-sulk. Her feathers puffed, she huffed once — loudly — then fixed Neville with one last narrow-eyed glare before lifting off his shoulder in a swirl of bright blue.
She soared up toward the landing and vanished through the doorway like a diva storming off stage.
Augusta watched her go, lips twitching.
"Hm. That phoenix of yours is as dramatic as you are," she said dryly.
Neville groaned softly. "Brilliant. Can't wait for the silent treatment later." as He walked over to Augusta.
Augusta arched a brow. "Well, she has been cooped up here. Phoenixes are free creatures, Neville. They're not meant to be kept indoors all day."
"I know," Neville said quietly. "But if she's spotted outside… someone might try to hunt her."
Augusta nodded thoughtfully at that. "Yes. That is a risk. Perhaps we should take her out somewhere safe — a secluded glen or meadow where she can stretch her wings properly." She waved a hand dismissively. "But that's for another day. Go on now — through the Floo."
Neville took a breath, grabbed a pinch of powder, and stepped into the fireplace.
"Diagon Alley!"
The green flames roared to life and swallowed him whole.
…
The warm morning sun spilled across Diagon Alley, as Florean Fortescue's was packed. and half the wizarding world seemed to have decided today was the perfect day for ice cream. Witches in colourful robes queued at the counter, children ran between tables, and waiters weaved through the crowd with towering sundae glasses.
Hermione sat at one of the little marble tables by the window, a bowl of strawberry– in front of her. She glanced around for what felt like the tenth time, brows knitting.
"This place is getting busier by the minute…" She scooped a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, then muttered, "Where on earth are they?"
Across from her, Luna leaned over her own sundae — blueberry and-vanilla ripple with sparkling sprinkles. She took a slow, thoughtful bite.
"Maybe they misspoke and went somewhere else," Luna said lightly. "People do that all the time, you know. Like that witch who mispronounced her Floo destination and ended up missing for a whole year."
Hermione blinked. "A year?"
Luna nodded serenely. "Mm-hm. It was all fine in the end, though. She apparently married the owner of the house she landed in."
Hermione opened her mouth… then closed it again. "I… don't even know where to start with that."
Luna just smiled and kept eating her glittering sundae.
Hermione had only returned home on Monday after staying the weekend at the Longbottom's, so she'd assumed today's meet-up would go smoothly. Clearly she'd been too optimistic.
Just then, the bell above the door chimed brightly, cutting through the chatter.
Neville stepped inside, alone, brushing soot from his sleeve. He scanned the room — and Hermione immediately waved her arm.
"Neville! Over here!"
Neville made his way through the crowd and slipped into the chair beside them.
"Morning, Hermione. Morning, Luna."
"Morning to you too," Luna said, her words slightly muffled by the spoon she still hadn't taken out of her mouth.
Hermione leaned forward, exasperated. "Where were you? We've been waiting for more than half an hour."
Neville rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "Sorry. Lumina kept making a fuss — she wanted to come along."
Luna dabbed her spoon against her lips thoughtfully. "I would imagine she made quite the fuss," she said airily. "Blue phoenixes get very restless if they're not allowed out. They like exploring. And ice cream. Oh yes — you really should bring her some."
Neville blinked. "Ice cream? For a phoenix?"
"Yes," Luna said, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "They adore cold things. Helps regulate their internal fire. Some phoenixes even sit on glaciers for fun."
Neville frowned. "I… didn't know that. Can birds even eat frozen food?"
"Oh, of course," Luna replied brightly.
Hermione gave Luna a helpless look but didn't comment — she'd given up trying to decode Luna's logic months ago.
Instead, she glanced behind Neville toward the door. "Where's Harry? Didn't he come with you?"
"Huh, yeah." Neville straightened in his seat. "Harry's with Gran. She took him to Gringotts to sort out his inheritance. Might take a while."
Hermione raised her brows. "It probably will. I was at Gringotts earlier to exchange Muggle money — it was absolutely packed. Wizards everywhere."
Neville shook his head. "No, Gran made an appointment earlier this week, so I don't think it'll take them too long."
Hermione nodded. "So… we wait for them here?"
"No," Neville said, standing up. "Gran told us to buy books and the rest of our supplies first. They'll join us once they're done."
Hermione immediately brightened. "Right then! Let's go to Flourish and Blotts. I've been meaning to buy a few books."
Luna stood as well, nodding. "I want to look at the Magical Creature Almanacs. Daddy says they're full of misprints, which means they're more accurate."
Hermione blinked. "That… doesn't sound right."
"It rarely does," Luna replied cheerfully.
They stepped out of the parlour and into the bustling alleyway. Shoppers streamed past them, the air filled with chatter, the flash of spell-fire, and the cheerful ringing of shop bells.
As they walked, they passed a row of storefronts — apothecaries, robe shops, a tiny bakery selling enchanted puff pastries — until Hermione slowed down in front of a particularly busy shop.
A large new sign hung above the door:
Moonmote
Beautiful floating chandeliers glimmered in the shop window — soft pastel colours drifting like mist, some shaped like hanging flowers, others like suspended runes that spun gently in the air. A small crowd of customers hovered near the entrance, peering through the glass with interest.
Hermione nudged Neville. "Is that your MLP lights?"
Neville blinked, turning toward the shop Hermione was pointing at. "uh— yeah. That's the one."
"It looks very busy," Hermione noted, impressed. "How's it going?"
Neville shrugged. "Dunno the exact numbers yet. But Gran said it's selling really well. Uncle Algie reckons we should expand globally before people start copying the designs."
Luna nodded dreamily. "It's quite popular, actually. Daddy says the Ministry has been buying a bunch of your lights — apparently, they want to replace the ones in the creature containment corridors. He's thinking of getting some for our house too."
Neville blinked at her. "Er — if you want some, just ask. I've got a few spares at home. I'll send them over."
Soon they reached Flourish and Blotts, the familiar green-and-gold sign swinging gently in the morning breeze. There wasn't a crowd outside — just the usual passers-by — but something else immediately caught their eye.
cages lined the storefront.
Inside each cage sat stacks of thick, leather-bound books strapped tightly shut with belt-like buckles. Some of the books shuddered. Others vibrated ominously. One gave a low, unmistakable growl.
Hermione stopped dead. "Why are they keeping books in cages?"
Luna crouched beside the nearest crate, peering between the bars with fascination. "Perhaps they're afraid the books will run away," she said thoughtfully.
Hermione leaned closer, squinting at one of the titles. "Monster Book of Monsters… oh. It's the book for Hagrid's class."
Neville stepped nearer. "Be careful, Hermione—"
Too late.
Hermione reached out, just barely brushing the top of one of the books.
It lunged. the book hurled itself against the bars. Hermione yelped and jumped back so fast she nearly toppled into Luna.
"It tried to bite me!" she squeaked.
Luna tilted her head. "Hmm. They must be quite hungry."
Hermione stared at her, scandalised. "Hungry?! What sort of book tries to bite someone?"
"Probably one about monsters," Luna said simply.
Neville sighed. He reached into the cage with practiced calm, ignoring Hermione's horrified gasp. He wrapped both hands gently around the nearest book.
It struggled at first — snapping, grinding, wriggling like an annoyed kneazle — but Neville didn't flinch. Instead, he stroked the spine slowly with his thumb.
Almost instantly, the book gave a little shudder… then relaxed.
A soft, rumbling purr vibrated under Neville's hand like a content cat.
The book now perfectly docile, he unbuckled the strap with ease and opened it to a random page.
Hermione blinked at him. "How did you know it would do that?"
Neville looked up from the page, a bit surprised by the question. "Huh? Oh — that. Well… all creatures can be gentle if you're gentle with them. I think that's the lesson Hagrid wants us to learn."
Luna nodded wisely, pulling the spoon from her mouth. "My father says even a manticore will behave if you compliment its mane."
Hermione gave Luna a very pointed, exaggerated look.
Neville chuckled. "Also, Harry already has a copy. Hagrid sent it to him for his birthday.".
Hermione crossed her arms. "Honestly. Leave it to Hagrid to assign a textbook that tries to eat you."
Hermione sighed heavily, turned toward the door, and said, "Right. Let's go inside before something else tries to attack us."
Luna followed behind her.
Meanwhile, Neville stood just outside Flourish and Blotts, flipping idly through the Monster Book of Monsters now that he had it calmed. The pages behaved perfectly well as long as he kept stroking the spine every so often.
He heard a burst of loud chatter from across the alley — the unmistakable sound of excited kids.
Neville looked up.
A crowd of children were pressed against the front window of the Quidditch supply shop, faces practically glued to the glass.
"Huh… what's happening over there?" Neville murmured.
He carefully re-buckled the Monster Book, placed it back into the nearest cage, and made his way toward the shop.
As he slipped into the edge of the crowd, Neville finally saw what they were staring at.
A broom hovered on a velvet display cushion, shimmering under enchanted lights. A polished sign stood beside it:
THE FIREBOLT
THIS STATE-OF-THE-ART RACING BROOM SPORTS A STREAMLINED,
SUPERFINE HANDLE OF ASH, TREATED WITH A DIAMOND-HARD POLISH AND
HAND-NUMBERED WITH ITS OWN REGISTRATION NUMBER.
EACH INDIVIDUALLY SELECTED BIRCH TWIG IN THE BROOMTAIL HAS
BEEN HONED TO AERODYNAMIC PERFECTION, GIVING THE FIREBOLT
UNSURPASSABLE BALANCE AND PINPOINT PRECISION.
THE FIREBOLT HAS AN ACCELERATION OF 150 MILES AN HOUR
IN TEN SECONDS AND INCORPORATES AN UNBREAKABLE BRAKING CHARM.
PRICE ON REQUEST
Neville. "The Firebolt," he murmured. He stared at the broom, gears turning in his head.
'Didn't Sirius buy Harry one in third year? Or… was that later? Merlin, I really should've rewatched those films before ending up here.' He frowned, rubbing his chin. 'Speaking of Sirius — where is he? Shouldn't he have escaped by now? Or was it later in the year?'
His brow creased further. 'I remember Harry seeing that big black dog before school… no, before he got to the Leaky Cauldron. That was near the end of summer, wasn't it?'
Neville glanced down the alley as if a giant grim might casually trot past. 'There's been no news so far. So he either hasn't escaped yet… or the Ministry's keeping it hush-hush to avoid embarrassment.'
He let out a sigh as a familiar voice cut straight through his thoughts.
"Do you want it, dear?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Neville blinked twice, jolted back to reality. He turned to see both of them standing there — Harry looking irritated, Augusta looking like she had just chewed out a goblin.
"Oh—hey, Gran. Harry. You're back already? That was fast." He glanced at Harry. "Did you get it all sorted?"
Augusta let out a disdainful snort. "Sorted? Hardly."
Harry scowled, jaw tight. "Apparently, Dumbledore blocked my access to my inheritance."
Neville's eyebrows shot up. "Blocked?"
Augusta corrected sharply, "Not blocked. His controlling Harry's access. Dumbledore is listed as executor of the Potter will. That means he decides which documents, vaults, and assets Harry is allowed to access while he's still underage."
Harry folded his arms. "Which basically means I don't get to know anything."
Neville rubbed his chin. "Figures," he muttered under his breath. 'Probably to control Harry…'
Augusta continued, irritation clear in every syllable. "The Headmaster has been withholding Potter estate information for years. Far more than I consider appropriate."
Neville's mind whirled. 'Probably why Harry didn't know anything about his inheritance in the original timeline… though I wonder… has Dumbledore been using the money?'
He hesitated, then asked aloud, "Can he take money out of the vaults?"
Augusta shook her head firmly. "Absolutely not. The goblins would skin him alive if he tried. Executor or not."
Neville frowned. "But how was he made executor of the Potters' will?"
Augusta shook her head. "I don't know. I'll have to have a talk with him."
Neville exhaled slowly. 'Then how did he get the position at all? Lily or James must've given him access… maybe something related to the war…'
Harry looked around. "Where are Hermione and Luna?"
Neville pointed toward Flourish and Blotts. "In the bookshop. I only stepped out to see what the crowd was gawking at."
He nodded toward the Firebolt's display again. "Apparently, this broom costs six hundred Galleons. I was just wondering if it's really that good."
Harry nearly choked. "Six hundred? For a broom?"
Neville chuckled. "Professional Quidditch gear. I heard the Irish National Team might be using it this season."
Harry pressed closer to the glass. "Is it really that much faster than normal brooms?"
Neville tapped the little golden plaque. "Says it can hit a hundred and fifty miles an hour in ten seconds. That's… insane, honestly."
Augusta studied the broom with a thoughtful, assessing look. "If you want it, Neville, I'll buy it for you. I still haven't given you a birthday present — you kept insisting you didn't want anything — and you do need a replacement."
She gave him a pointed look. "After what you did to your father's broom, it's beyond repair."
Neville rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry about that, Gran."
Augusta sighed, but her tone softened. "I'm just glad you didn't get hurt. So, do you want it? I wouldn't mind buying the Firebolt for you."
Neville shook his head quickly. "It's too expensive. I don't need something like that. Maybe something… normal."
His gaze drifted down the display line, toward the more reasonably priced models — sleek brooms resting on lower stands.
The Nimbus 2000 gleamed with polished elegance. The Nimbus 2001, darker and more aggressive-looking, sat just beside it.
Neville nodded toward them. "Maybe one of those. The Nimbus 2001 or 2000 would be more than enough."
Augusta followed his gaze. "Hmm. If that's what you want." She reached for the shop door and pulled it open. "Come along then. Let's go inside and have a proper look."
Neville and Harry stepped in after her, the bell above the door chiming brightly as the smell of polished wood and fresh broom varnish washed over them.
…
After finishing most of their shopping, the group wandered toward the Magical Menagerie. The air outside smelled faintly of owl treats and something suspiciously like cabbage.
The bell jingled overhead as they stepped inside the pet shop. The room was cramped and noisy, full of cages, strange chirping sounds, and the faint scent of flobberworms.
Neville rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I need to get something for Lumina… Do phoenixes have special treats?" he muttered to himself.
Luna nodded as if she had been listening the whole time. "Phoenixes enjoy candied citrus peels," she said dreamily. "Lumina especially likes lemon."
Neville raised an eyebrow.
Meanwhile, Hermione looked uncertain, glancing between shelves of Kneazle kittens and enchanted rabbit cages.
"My parents gave me money," she said quietly. "And… well… you and Harry already have pets. I was thinking I might get one too."
Harry brightened. "Are you getting an owl?"
Hermione shook her head. "I was thinking… maybe a cat."
She turned to Neville, suddenly nervous. "Would your gran mind if I brought a cat to the manor?"
Neville shrugged. "Probably not. Magical pets are well-trained. As long as it doesn't attack the furniture, she'll be fine with it."
Hermione visibly relaxed. "Good."
They split up—Hermione headed deeper into the shop, Harry and Luna browsed the owl section, and Neville made for the counter.
The counter, however, was empty.
Except for a large, orange, squashed-faced cat sitting right in the middle of it, staring at him like he knew all of Neville's secrets.
Neville blinked. "Wait… is this Crookshanks?" he murmured, holding his hand out slowly.
The large ginger cat padded forward — bow-legged, squashed-faced, bottlebrush tail twitching lightly, and eyes the colour of warm amber.
Crookshanks regarded him for a moment… then hopped closer and rubbed against Neville's hand.
Neville laughed under his breath and scratched behind its ears. "You're friendlier than you look."
The cat purred — loudly — a deep, lion-like rumble that vibrated through Neville's fingers.
'Hermione's going to love you,' Neville thought.
And right on cue, Hermione appeared beside him, having wandered over from the far aisle.
Her eyes widened the moment she saw the cat. "Oh…" she breathed, stepping closer. "He's beautiful…"
Crookshanks lifted a paw toward her, letting out that strange, throaty meow.
Neville smiled. "I thought you might like him."
A clerk appeared behind them, polishing his glasses as he approached. "Looking to purchase that Kneazle-cross?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "A bit older than the kittens, but very clever. Good judge of character, too."
The orange cat jumped down from the counter and sauntered over, brushing firmly against Hermione's leg.
Hermione let out a soft gasp and immediately knelt down. Crookshanks pressed his squashed face into her hand, purring like a tiny lion. Her expression melted at once.
"He's perfect," she whispered.
Neville couldn't help chuckling. 'It really does seem they were meant to be.'
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