Chapter 94
Harry had the distinct feeling that if he truly were poisoned by residual potion, Snape would be positively delighted.
After class, he and Hermione helped Ron pack away the unused ingredients, then headed to the stone sink in the corner to wash their hands and stirring spoons.
"Excellent," Snape said silkily, his gaze lingering on Neville, who stood rigid beside his cauldron. A cruel smile tugged at his lips, black eyes gleaming. "It seems we may acquire a new toad specimen today."
Fear rippled through the Gryffindors. Across the room, Slytherins watched with barely concealed excitement.
"Let us observe what becomes of Longbottom's toad," Snape continued. "If he has brewed the Shrinking Solution correctly, the toad will revert to a tadpole. If he has failed—which I find far more likely—the potion will act as a poison, and we will gain a new addition to the Potions laboratory."
Snape lifted Trevor in one hand and dipped a spoon into Neville's cauldron with the other. The black liquid reeked sharply—there was no doubt it was toxic. He tipped a few drops down the toad's throat.
Trevor writhed violently in Snape's palm, then went completely still.
"No—!"
Neville's eyes reddened instantly. Regret, guilt, and fury crashed together inside him. He hated himself for his incompetence, and he hated Snape for never missing a chance to humiliate him. Snape knew Potions wasn't his strength—and yet he never relented.
Neville had always endured in silence. But this—
This was his longest companion. The one friend who never laughed at him. Even when Trevor wandered off, Neville always found him again.
And now, because of him, Trevor lay motionless.
Neville knew, with a sick certainty, that he would never forgive himself.
Nor would he ever forgive the cruel teacher standing before him.
"Very good," Snape said at last, satisfied. "Class dismissed."
The Gryffindors didn't know how to comfort Neville. He looked hollow, staring at Trevor's unmoving body on the floor.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood helplessly beside him, words failing them entirely.
Eventually, they climbed the stairs toward the Entrance Hall.
"That old bat is unbearable," Ron muttered angrily.
Harry nodded.
Hermione nodded too—then stopped. "I forgot something in the classroom," she said quickly. "You don't need to wait for me."
Even if Trevor truly had been poisoned, she still wanted to try. Her antidote might be useless—but Neville was still inside, staring at his pet's body.
She jogged back down the corridor toward the Potions classroom.
Just as she reached the door, she heard a voice she didn't want to hear.
Hermione froze.
She didn't know why she stopped—but she did. Standing just outside the door, she listened.
"Are you willing to keep being bullied?"
A male voice. Calm. Cold.
"No matter how poor your potion skills are, can't you even say no?"
"Can our Head of House really pour 'poison' down your pet's throat without your consent?"
"Then a large part of Trevor's 'death' is on you. He died because of your cowardice."
"No—it's not me!" Neville shook his head frantically. He was already devastated. Being told he was the true culprit was unbearable.
"You only needed to mention Dumbledore," the voice continued. "Just like your Gryffindor classmate did. Your pet would have been spared. Snape would've simply docked some points."
Hermione stiffened outside the door.
Her name was mentioned—flatly, without emotion. Merely as an example.
"But instead, you said yes again," the voice pressed on. "You watched your pet die with your own eyes. Do you regret it now?"
"Yes," Neville whispered, unwillingness thick in his voice.
"Then let cowardice go to hell. Why cling to fear?" the voice demanded. "Is there anything worse than watching your pet die in front of you?"
"You had courage once. You stood your ground against your friends. And now, when faced with someone who dislikes you—will you keep enduring it?"
"Maybe your grandmother will send you another owl. Or a mouse. Or a new toad," the voice said coolly. "What then? Let it be poisoned too?"
The relentless questioning made Neville's lips tremble. He couldn't answer.
"Tell me," the voice said sharply. "What's your answer?"
"Let that old bat go to hell!"
Neville roared the words with everything he had.
Hermione gasped silently. She had never—never—heard Neville speak so boldly, let alone about a professor.
"Good," Draco Malfoy said, satisfaction clear in his tone. "Your eyes have changed. I hope the cowardly Longbottom is gone. Today marks a new beginning—doesn't it?"
"Yes." Neville nodded.
Something heavy seemed to fall away inside him, as if chains had snapped. The haze that had clung to him for years lifted, swept clean by sudden sunlight.
"Then you're worthy of it again."
Malfoy smiled. He raised his wand and pointed it at Trevor's limp body.
"Rennervate."
Neville blinked, confused by the incantation—but trusting.
Then—
"It moved!" Neville cried. "Its legs—they're moving!"
Malfoy shrugged. "At a certain level, you learn that toads are surprisingly difficult to kill."
In truth, the spell had been unnecessary. It was indulgence—nothing more.
"Thank you," Neville said breathlessly, over and over.
"It's nothing," Malfoy replied lightly. "Now get up. Lunch won't wait."
Neville scrambled to his feet, stomach suddenly growling. In his grief, he'd forgotten hunger entirely.
Hearing them preparing to leave, Hermione stepped back from the door.
She didn't stay.
If she ran into them now, it would only be awkward.
"I still have class," she murmured to herself, hurrying away. "I need to hurry."
As for the thoughts stirring deep in her heart—
She chose, for now, not to face them.
But the conversation she'd overheard had already begun to shake her resolve.