A Neville SI

A Neville SI Chapter 23

Hermione said, "It means you never die."

Ron sounded offended. "I know what it means!"

Hermione shot him a look and said, "That's what Fluffy's guarding on the third floor—that's what's under the trapdoor: the Philosopher's Stone."

Neville said, "I doubt that," yawning. He stood up. "I doubt Nicolas Flamel would give something so valuable to Dumbledore of all people." Standing up, Neville said, "Well, I'm knackered. I'm off to bed. See you lot tomorrow." He slung his bag over his shoulder and paused before digging into his bag and taking out a small album.

Neville handed it over to Harry and said, "Here you go, Harry. I almost forgot—this is for you."

Harry took it and asked, "What's this?" as he opened it.

Neville shrugged and said, "It's pictures of your mum. Apparently, my mum and yours were best friends, and my mum was even your godmother and yours mine. Anyway, I copied some of her pictures for you."

Harry was stunned, looking at the moving pictures of his mother in the album—from when she was their age to when they were adults.

Neville yawned and said, "Well, good night." He was too tired and just wanted to sleep.

….

Neville strolled along with the rest of the Gryffindor's first years, heading into the North Tower Courtyard. The match had ended not too long ago—Gryffindor against Hufflepuff—and they were returning from the stands. Almost everyone around him was in high spirits, chattering away about the victory. It was a fairly pleasant afternoon, and the sun had dipped just enough to cast a soft light on the old stone walls. A gentle breeze carried the distant voices of other students still lingering about, most discussing the outcome of the match.

The Gryffindors were buzzing with talk of how strange and unfair the match had been at times. They went over every last detail, as was common after any Quidditch match: who'd caught the Snitch, who'd dodged the Bludgers best, and who'd done something foolish. But the main point of discussion—nearly everyone mentioned it—was how Professor Snape, acting as referee, had been rather biased. Snape had awarded a penalty to Hufflepuff because one of the Weasley twins had accidentally sent a Bludger in Snape's direction. Granted, it did nearly knock Snape sideways, but no one believed that deserved a penalty. Then, Snape had given Hufflepuff a second penalty for what seemed to be no reason at all. It had left a sour taste in many mouths, despite the Gryffindor win.

Ron was being especially loud about it. "I mean, did you see that?" he said, waving his arms about as they walked. "Snape was giving them penalties like they were sweets! Completely out of order! He was just waiting for a chance to hand Hufflepuff some points, I'm sure of it!" Seamus and Lavender joined in, nodding firmly and adding their own complaints: "Too right," said Seamus. "He's got it in for Gryffindor, everyone knows it." Lavender shook her head and said, "It's not fair at all. He just can't stand to see Gryffindor do well."

Hermione, walking beside Neville, also looked annoyed. She glanced over at Neville and huffed, "Professor Snape's behavior was absolutely unfair, wasn't it? Just shocking! I know referees are meant to be strict, but that was something else." She folded her arms tightly. "I've half a mind to write a note to Professor McGonagall about it. There's meant to be some sense of fairness in the game, and that was just Snape being Snape, as usual. Honestly, I shouldn't be surprised, but I still am."

Neville, on the other hand, didn't care much about Quidditch. He found the game dumb and a waste of time, not worth getting worked up about. Neville offered a small shrug. He had no desire to get worked up over a silly game, no matter how important Quidditch seemed to everyone else. "It's Snape," he murmured quietly, keeping his voice low. "What can any of us do about it? At least Harry caught the Snitch, so we won. That's two matches in a row for him, isn't it? Pretty impressive. I doubt many first-years have a record like that."

Hermione sighed, crossing her arms. "I suppose you're right," she said. "We did win, and that's something. I just wish the match had felt fair."

They reached a small bench in the courtyard, not too far from a patch of well-tended flowers. Neville settled down on it and let himself relax. The courtyard was calmer than the stands had been. Hermione took a seat right next to him. Meanwhile, Ron was still pacing about, running his hands through his ginger hair and muttering under his breath about Snape's blatant cheating. Hermione, Neville, and Ron had decided to wait there for Harry before heading back to the common room. The rest of the Gryffindors had gone on ahead, no doubt eager to start the victory party Fred and George were surely throwing. The Weasley twins loved a good celebration, and with Gryffindor's win, there'd be no shortage of laughter, sweets, and noise in the common room tonight.

Ron still worked up about the match, shifted his complaints from Snape to Malfoy. During the match, Malfoy had walked over to where they were seated to taunt them, he was successful in riling up Ron, and Ron had ended up punching Malfoy right in the face. Neville could still picture the look of surprise on Malfoy's pale features. Naturally, Crabbe and Goyle had rushed in to defend their friend, and it had nearly turned into an all-out brawl right there in the stands. Neville, who normally avoided fighting, had decided he'd had enough. He'd whipped out his wand and cast a Body-Bind Curse on all three of them—Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle—leaving them stiff as boards, unable to move. Neville still thought it was rather funny. By the time they'd left the stands, the three of them were probably still stuck there if no one had come along to free them. Ron now considered it quite a moment of pride. he taunted Malfoy for the rest of the match up until they left, Ron saw it as a second, smaller victory alongside the Quidditch one.

At last, Neville couldn't help himself. He opened one eye and said softly, "It's just a game, Ron." He tried to keep his tone gentle and calm. "Really, you're getting yourself all worked up. We won, didn't we? We came out on top, so what's the point of moaning about it?"

Ron spun round, looking astonished that Neville had dared to downplay Quidditch. "Just a game?" he burst out, his voice cracking with disbelief. "Just a game? Neville, Quidditch is everything here! It's tradition, honour, house pride!" He flung his arms about, red in the face. "It's not just a silly game. It means something!"

But Neville, now slightly annoyed, reached into his robes for his wand. He knew a little jinx he'd been practicing. Without opening his eyes fully, he cast "Langlock" on Ron. At once, Ron fell silent, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He looked shocked, pawing at his own tongue.

Hermione gasped, giving Neville a quick swat on the shoulder. "Neville! you shouldn't do that to our friends!" she pulled out her wand, muttering the counter-curse. Ron stumbled back, coughing and touching his tongue gingerly. Once he was free of the jinx, he glared at Neville.

"That was… that was strange," Ron said, still a bit startled. "My tongue… it wouldn't budge! Don't do that again!" He then turned to Hermione and said, "Thanks. That was a right weird feeling."

Hermione explained quietly, "Langlock is a jinx that makes your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth. It's not very nice to use on your friends." She shot Neville a disapproving look. Neville just shrugged, closing his eyes again and leaning back more comfortably. He didn't feel guilty—Ron had been working his last nerve—but he supposed he shouldn't have done it. Still, it was over now.

It had been about two months since Christmas, and things had changed in small but noticeable ways. After Christmas break, Neville remembered meeting Hermione early one morning after his usual workout. She'd mentioned how thoughtful Neville's Christmas gift to Harry had been, and Neville had tried to brush it off as nothing special. Truth be told, it had been a simple gesture. Over Christmas, Neville had sorted through some old photos he had, and he'd copied one and given it to Harry—just something nice, not worth making a fuss over.

Harry, for his part, had come to thank Neville in private later that day. He'd said it was the best gift he'd received, and he felt bad for not thanking him straightaway the day before. He'd thought Neville was tired and didn't want to bother him just to say thanks. Neville never felt comfortable making a fuss about such things, so he told him that when he was going through some of his parent's old photos during Christmas break they found them, so he copied them and gave them to Harry. It's no big deal,

This change had brought Harry a bit closer to Neville and Hermione. Harry had taken to joining their spell practice sessions, spending time with them both. Ron, meanwhile, had seemed annoyed by this. Neville had noticed before how Ron always tried to keep harry from making friends, pulling him away whenever he got too close to Neville or spent too long talking with Hermione.

The months had passed without much fuss, except for Harry's growing worry when he found out Snape would referee the Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff match.

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told the other three about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee.

 "Don't play," said Hermione at once.

"Say you're ill," said Ron.

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermione suggested.

"Really break your leg," said Ron.

 Harry shook his head. "I can't," he'd said. "There isn't another Seeker to stand in for me. If I don't play, Gryffindor can't play at all."

 Neville, who had been leaning against a wall, had pointed out, "He's not going to kill you out there, Harry. It's a Quidditch pitch, not a battlefield."

Harry had nodded. "I suppose I'll play. If I back out, the Slytherins will all say I'm scared of facing Snape. I'll show them. If we win while Snape's the referee, that'll wipe the smirks off their faces."

They hadn't talked about Nicolas Flamel. since Neville had told them about Flamel.

Back in the present, Neville opened his eyes when he heard footsteps. Harry came running towards them, looking quite frantic. He had that excited yet anxious look, and his hair was even messier than usual. Hermione stood up at once and asked. "Harry! Where have you been?" she asked.

Ron, having recovered from the langlock jinx, rushed over to Harry, practically jumping on the spot, grinning. "You won it for us, Harry! And you'll never guess—I gave Malfoy a shiner in the stands, right on his smug face! And Neville here knocked him, Crabbe, and Goyle stiff as planks. They were all left in the stands!" Ron sounded almost proud. "Everyone's waiting for you in the common room. Fred and George nicked some cakes and other stuff from the kitchens. It's going to be a proper party!"

Harry, however, looked as if he had more pressing matters on his mind. He caught his breath and said, "Never mind that now. Let's find a place to talk. I've got something to tell you....." He hurried them along to an empty room near the corridor. Neville followed, Hermione right behind him, and Ron bringing up the rear.

Harry checked that Peeves wasn't around, pushing the door open with caution and peering inside. The room was small and dusty, with an old desk and a few chairs. Nothing special, but certainly private enough. He motioned them all inside and closed the door quietly. Then he turned to face them.

"You won't believe what I've just seen," Harry said, voice low but urgent. "We were right. It is the Philosopher's Stone. Snape's trying to get it, and he's forcing Professor Quirrell to help him. I heard him asking if Quirrell knew how to get past that three-headed dog—Fluffy—and he also said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus.' I reckon there are all sorts of enchantments guarding the Stone, not just the dog. Different teachers must have set them up, and Quirrell's done something to keep the Stone safe. Snape needs Quirrell to break his own enchantment. It's all happening right under our noses."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "So… so you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Professor Quirrell can stand up to Snape?" She looked genuinely alarmed, and she wrung her hands together. "But… he's such a nervous sort, what if he can't hold out?"

Ron gulped, his bravado fading. "It'll be gone by next Tuesday, then," he said, eyes darting between them.

Neville rolled his eyes at this, letting out a sigh. He had never been fully convinced by all this worry. "I doubt that it's really the Philosopher's Stone. You're all panicking for nothing, if you ask me." He leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest.

Ron blinked at Neville. "What are you on about, mate? Of course, it's the real Stone! Hagrid told us it belonged to old Flamel, and everyone knows he's famous for making it, isn't he?"

Hermione nodded at Ron's words. "It's quite clear, Neville. Nicolas Flamel gave the Philosopher's Stone to Dumbledore so he could keep it safe. That must be why it's here. Dumbledore's the best wizard around, isn't he? He beat Grindelwald ages ago, and people say he's the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of."

Ron joined in, looking pleased with himself. "My mum always says Dumbledore is the best wizard there is. Everyone knows that."

Neville sighed, rubbing his face as he thought it over. "But why would Flamel give the Stone to Dumbledore now?" he asked. "Flamel's had it for over six hundred years, and everyone knows he owns it. If dark wizards had known about it all this time—and they surely would have—wouldn't they have tried to steal it long ago? If it was safe with Flamel all this while, why bother moving it now?" He looked doubtful that the stone in Hogwarts was the real thing he couldn't see Flamel suddenly fearing a weak Voldemort.

Harry, who had been pacing around the dusty floor, stopped and frowned. He looked like he wanted to argue but seemed worn out. "If it really is the Stone, we have to do something," he said quietly.

Neville cut in, speaking calmly but firmly. "And what can we do, really? We're only first years. We can't stop Snape if he truly wants it. And if it's not the Stone, we're worrying over nothing." He shrugged. "I'm off back to the common room. There's a party on, and it might cheer us all up. If you lot want to come, feel free. If not, stay here and fret."

He headed for the door, leaving them to think. Hermione frowned but nodded and said, "He's right, you know. We're just kids. Let's go back to the common room." She followed Neville.

Harry sighed. "Yeah, let's head back," he said.

Ron grumbled under his breath, "No shock that she'd agree with him," and trudged after them all.

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