Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 85
Author's Note:
Hey guys!
Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Like I mentioned before, I've been really sick for the past week and a half and just couldn't focus on writing.
I hope you all understand, and thanks so much for your patience!
Daphne nodded without hesitation. "You have my word. I'll tell Astoria later to keep it a secret."
Tracey nodded
Neville smiled in relief. "Thanks."
Daphne's eyes softened, but then she straightened again, her expression measured. "On the topic of Lumina… I didn't just ask to speak with you to say thank you. I also wanted to ask—would it be possible to buy phoenix tears from you?"
Neville blinked, then shrugged. "I'd have to ask Lumina first. If she's alright with it… and you don't have to pay for it. Just bring some treats, Lumina."
Daphne's eyes widened slightly. "Do you even know how much phoenix tears are worth? And you're just going to give them away for free?"
Neville waved her off. "It's not like I need it." The truth was—Neville really didn't need the money.
Because in the past week, he had stumbled onto something remarkable inside Alaric's hidden room. Jibber showed him the massive stockpile the house-elves had been keeping for over a century—enchanted chests filled to bursting with rare magical creature parts: occamy eggshells, grabhorn horns, water serpent horns, and more. It was a hidden treasure trove, enough to last several lifetimes.
…
Friday, 5th March 1993 – Charms Classroom
The rain drummed steadily against the tall, arched windows of Hogwarts, streaking down the glass in silver ribbons. A low rumble of thunder echoed across the Scottish Highlands, muffled by the castle's thick stone walls. Inside the Charms classroom, the warm glow of floating candles kept the dreary weather at bay.
Neville sat at the farthest bench, back against the wall, one leg folded under the other. A quill scratched steadily across parchment as he took notes — not on the current lesson, but from a thick book spread open in front of him: Foundations of Runes and Arithmancy: The Key to Permanent Enchantments.
Hermione sat beside him, posture straight, eyes locked on Professor Flitwick. Harry slouched on her other side, chin propped on his hand, though he was at least pretending to pay attention.
At the front of the room, Flitwick hovered beside Susan Bones, his wand raised as he levitated a pillow off the ground. Susan held her wand at the ready.
"Remember the wand movement, Miss Bones," Flitwick squeaked encouragingly, his tiny wand still in the air. "And pronounce it correctly. Now — are you ready?"
Susan nodded. "Yes, Professor."
"One… two… three!" Flitwick let go of the pillow.
Susan flicked her wand sharply. "Arresto Momentum!"
The pillow slowed mid-fall, drifting to the floor like a feather.
Flitwick clapped his small hands together, beaming. "Well done, Miss Bones, well done!" He gave her a proud nod as he waved her back. "You may return to your seat."
Susan lowered her wand with a bright smile. "Thank you, Professor."
Before Flitwick could call for another volunteer, the bell chimed through the room.
"Ah, time's up already," Flitwick said, glancing at the clock. "Excellent work today, everyone. Please remember to practise in your free time. If you encounter any difficulties, my door is always open." He moved back to his desk, adding, "Don't forget—your assignments on my desk as you leave."
The scrape of benches and shuffle of bags filled the classroom as students packed up.
Neville stretched with a long yawn, one arm reaching lazily over his head. "Merlin, time flies," he muttered, shutting his book with a solid thump.
Hermione, seated beside him, gave him a sharp look. "Honestly, Neville. You should focus on the lesson instead of… whatever you were scribbling."
Neville raised his eyebrows, unbothered. "What's the point? I already know all the spells we're supposed to learn this year." He dug into his bag and pulled out his finished assignment, dropping it neatly on top of his books.
Hermione huffed, clearly unimpressed. "It's not about just knowing the spells. It's about showing respect to Professor Flitwick."
"I do respect him," Neville said quickly, his tone firm but calm. "Just because I don't stare at the board the whole time doesn't mean I don't respect the man. I just… use the time more efficiently."
Harry stood, gathering his things.
Neville looked up at him. "Oi, Harry, mate — mind handing mine in while you're up there?"
Harry shrugged. "Yeah, sure."
"Mine too, please," Hermione added, already stacking her quills into her bag.
Harry took both assignments, nodding. "Got it."
"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said, still giving Neville a side-eye.
Neville snapped his book shut and slid it back into his satchel, slinging the strap over his shoulder. He got to his feet just as Hermione did.
Neville headed down the stairs.
"Hey—Neville, wait!" Hermione called, hurrying after him. She scooped Harry's books off the table without a second thought and rushed down the steps.
Neville stopped at the bottom, turning just as Hermione caught up, a little out of breath.
"Don't forget," she reminded, adjusting her bag strap. "We're supposed to head to the Room of Requirement after class."
Neville rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. "Yeah… about that. I've got something to do first. I'll meet you both in the RoR later."
Hermione frowned, confused. "Something to do? What do you mean?"
Neville shook his head, his tone gentle but firm. "I'll tell you later. Promise. But if I don't go now, I'll be late."
And before she could press him further, he slipped out the door.
"Wait, Neville—" Hermione called, but he was already gone. She let out a long sigh, muttering under her breath, "Honestly…"
Just then, Harry came back from dropping off their assignments. He took his books from her arms with a grateful nod. "Thanks, Hermione."
He glanced around. "Where'd Neville go?"
"He left," Hermione said, her voice tight with exasperation. "Said he had something to do. Said he'll meet us in the Room later."
...
The rain drummed loudly against the tall windows of the clock tower as Neville climbed two steps at a time. By the time he reached the heavy oak doors of the hospital wing, he was slightly out of breath from running all the way from the astronomy tower.
He pushed the door open slowly. The vast, white-draped room lay empty. No students in the beds, and slightly dark as it rains
Neville paused, murmuring to himself. "Huh. Empty."
It made sense. Ever since Lucius Malfoy had been removed from the Hogwarts Board, the governors had finally funded the mandrakes. The petrified students had been revived weeks after the chamber incident.
He made his way across the polished floor toward the small office tucked off to the side. The light of a single lamp glowed within. Leaning forward, Neville peeked in.
Madam Pomfrey sat at her desk, quill scratching briskly across parchment. spectacles perched low on her nose.
Neville knocked softly on the open door. "Good afternoon, Madam Pomfrey."
She glanced up, blinking in surprise, then frowned slightly. "Ah, Mr. Longbottom. What brings you here? What have you done this time?" She sighed, shook her head, and added, "I thought that this year you had toned down your recklessness."
Neville quickly raised both hands. "Uh, it's nothing like that, ma'am. I came by to talk to you about something, if that's alright."
Her brows raised in surprise. "Talk?" she asked, then nodded. "Well, yes, of course. Come in and sit down." She gestured to the chair across from her desk.
Neville shuffled in, lowering himself into the seat.
Pomfrey set her quill aside and folded her hands. "So then, Mr. Longbottom, what is it you wanted to discuss?"
Neville scratched the back of his neck, trying to find the right words. "Actually, Madam Pomfrey… you see, I need help with magical healing."
Her eyebrows shot up. "Healing?" She studied him carefully, as if to see whether he was joking. "You're interested in becoming a Healer, Mr. Longbottom? Well, I must say I'm surprised to hear that. Not that you lack talent, but I wouldn't have pegged you as the type."
Pomfrey tilted her head and asked, "So, you want to know what's required to become a Healer?" Without waiting for a response, she launched into her explanation, her voice brisk. "To pursue this career, you need to achieve Outstandings in Charms and Potions on your NEWT. Additionally, you should aim for at least Exceeds Expectations in Herbology, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Once you meet these criteria, you can apply to St. Mungo's for specialist training. That's where the real healing begins."
Neville shook his head quickly. "Eh — no, that's not what I meant. I tried looking in the library for books, but I could only find basics — things like how to treat cuts or cast first-aid charms."
Pomfrey gave a short nod. "Ah. Of course, you wouldn't find more than that. True healing magic is advanced. It's beyond what you learn in Hogwarts. It isn't taught until after your NEWTs. Healing is delicate work, Mr. Longbottom. One wrong flick and you could worsen the injury instead of curing it. While there are some books on antivenoms, and a handful of potions texts, even those only cover the basics — how to counter simple poisons, how to close minor cuts or burns. Well," she continued, folding her hands, "there are a few more advanced works kept in the Restricted Section of the library, but you won't be able to access them without a professor's written permission. And frankly, Mr. Longbottom, it might be beyond your comprehension at this stage. You're still in your second year, after all."
Neville nodded, already anticipating her response. "I was hoping you could help me learn some basics," he asked.
Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Longbottom, but I can't do that. You're only in your second year. Healing is not something you can dabble in between classes and homework. You should focus on your standard studies first."
Neville shifted uncomfortably in his chair, clutching the strap of his satchel. "I know, ma'am. I really do. But I'm not asking to learn everything—just enough to get started."
Her eyebrows rose in curiosity. "And what exactly makes you think you need to?"
Neville sighed. "Because it's about my parents," he said quietly.
Pomfrey's expression softened immediately. She took off her glasses and said, "Ah, I see."
Neville said quietly. "I'm not sure if you know this, Madam Pomfrey… but my parents—well, they were tortured with the Cruciatus curse. It went on so long their minds just… broke. They've been left in an adult state ever since."
Pomfrey's expression fell. She gave a quiet sigh. "Yes, I've heard what happened to them." Her voice softened with sadness. "But I'm afraid the mind can't be healed. Mr. Longbottom, not that sort of damage. Healing the mind—especially from the Cruciatus—has never been possible. It isn't like mending a cut. It's like…" she paused, searching for words, "…trying to stitch together shattered glass."
"I've heard that before, ma'am," Neville said quietly.
He reached into his bag, pulling out sheets of parchment—rough brain diagrams, potion and arithmetic calculations. He laid a few of them carefully on her desk.
Pomfrey's eyes widened. "Oh my…" she murmured, fingertips brushing the edge of his notes.
"But I beg to differ, ma'am," Neville pressed, leaning forward, words spilling out faster now. "Everyone says minds can't be healed, that St Mungo's tried for years. But I don't think it's impossible. Look here—" He tapped the rough sketch of a brain. "This part—the amygdala. Non-magical folk have done loads of research on the brain. The amygdala handles memory, emotions, fear, pain, and anxiety. What if the damage could be healed… or replaced?."
Pomfrey adjusted her spectacles and bent closer to the parchment. She read in silence for a long moment, eyes moving over Neville's uneven scrawl, the arrows and notations crowding the page.
"Oh my, you've done some very deep research into this," she said finally, sounding both surprised. She tapped a finger against what he'd written. " Isolating potion effects to a single part of the body…"
Pomfrey sat back, lips pressed thin, eyes scanning the stack of parchment Neville had spread out. She lifted one page, her hand trembling ever so slightly. "Merlin's beard…" she whispered. "You're saying the Cruciatus didn't destroy their minds completely, but… forced part of it to shut down?"
Neville nodded eagerly. "Exactly. Like… like a failsafe. The rest of their brain still works—they react, they remember in their own way. But the amygdala—the part that filters emotions, pain, fear—it's locked itself away. If I can find a way to wake it back up, or replace what's broken…"
Her brow furrowed as she read further. "But how do you know this is the only part damaged in your parents' brains?"
Neville nodded, already ready with his answer. He slid another parchment toward her. "These are notes from my own tests with them. Look—here, they still respond to me and Gran. Their eyes dilate whenever we bring up things they used to love. That means their memories are still intact. Their brains are still recording. I narrowed it down to the amygdala, because like I said—this part deals with emotions, fear, pain, and emotional memory formation."
He pulled out another parchment, pointing to a sketch. "And I've studied the Cruciatus curse too. It targets the nerves, forcing unbearable pain into the body. With long exposure, I think the brain—specifically this part—shut itself down. Almost like… protecting itself from worse damage. Right now, they don't even feel a pinch."
Pomfrey set the parchment down slowly and rubbed her temples. "Neville… what you're suggesting has never even been theorised in wizarding medicine. Healers at St. Mungo's—brilliant, lifelong professionals—have tried and failed. Entire research teams dedicated to long-term Cruciatus exposure have turned up nothing."
Neville nodded. "Then maybe they're looking at it wrong. Everyone keeps trying to heal the whole mind. But what if you don't need to? What if fixing one small part could be enough to… to restart the rest?"
For a long moment, the only sound was the steady patter of rain against the windows. Pomfrey looked at him. Her voice softened. "You've thought of all this on your own?"
Neville nodded firmly. "I'm already looking into creating a potion that could do what I want. But… I need the basics of medical healing first. And I can't find any books on it anywhere."
Pomfrey let out a long, weary sigh. "Healing like this has never been done, Mr. Longbottom. Never even attempted. You're talking about combining Muggle medicine, magical healing. It's…" She trailed off.
Pomfrey leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "You're a second-year, Mr. Longbottom," she said finally, though her tone lacked its usual steel. "What you're proposing would daunt a master Healer with years of experience. And yet…" Her eyes flicked to his parchment again. "…you've spotted connections most wouldn't even think to question."
For a long moment, she was silent, her gaze thoughtful. Then Pomfrey exhaled, stood, and crossed to one of her tall shelves. She ran her fingers along the spines before pulling out a few worn, heavy volumes.
She returned to the desk and set them down in front of Neville with a solid thump. "If you're serious about this, you'll need to start here. Learn these. Without this foundation, you won't even scratch the surface of what you're hoping to do."
Neville's head snapped up. "Your book?"
Pomfrey gave him a pointed look. "Yes. My personal reference. You will treat it with the utmost care, and you will return it to me in one piece. Do I make myself clear?"
Neville's face broke into an astonished grin. "Yes, ma'am! Thank you—thank you so much!"
Her lips twitched, almost a smile. "You have a way of thinking differently from the rest of us, Neville. That's how you stumbled onto phoenix tears for the blood malediction. It's why you're sitting here now, showing me diagrams no twelve-year-old should even know exist. Perhaps…" She sighed, almost to herself. "Perhaps you might find something the rest of us missed."
Neville nodded.
Pomfrey's gaze softened further, "If you come across anything in that book you don't understand—and you will—you come to me. No experiments on your own. Do you promise?"
Neville nodded vigorously. "I promise."
"Good." Pomfrey leaned back, the moment of vulnerability passing as her professional mask slid back into place. "Now, off with you before I change my mind."
Neville stood quickly, nodding. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey." before he left the room
…
Two hours later, Neville pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement. The familiar sight greeted him—three work desks lined up neatly, a bubbling cauldron at one where Hermione stirred carefully, and in the far corner a duelling area where spell-scorched dummies stood ready.
Harry was across the room, wand raised, sending a Stunner at one of the practice dummies. The dummy jerked back stiffly before resetting itself.
"Hey, guys. What're you up to?" Neville called as he stepped in.
Hermione, closest to the door, looked up from her cauldron with a frown. "Where have you been?"
Harry lowered his wand, wiping sweat from his brow. "You're late, mate," he said as he walked over.
Neville scratched the back of his neck as he crossed to a desk, dropping his bag onto it. "Went to see Madam Pomfrey."
Hermione's frown deepened, her stirring slowing as she set the flame to a low simmer. "Are you sick?"
Neville blinked at her, baffled. "What? No—no, nothing like that."
"Then why?" Hermione pressed, leaving her cauldron and moving toward his desk, suspicion still in her eyes.
Neville hesitated, then admitted quietly, "I needed help. With healing magic."
Hermione nearly dropped the ladle still in her hand. "Healing magic?" she repeated, eyes wide. "Neville, that's advanced! You don't even touch that until after Hogwarts. It's a specialized NEWT-level subject."
Harry leaned back against the desk, curiosity plain on his face. "So what—you want to be a Healer?"
Neville shook his head. "No, Harry. I just… figured we might need it one day. With what we know is coming, better to be prepared."
Harry's eyes widened slightly as understanding clicked.
Hermione's expression softened, though her brow stayed tight with worry. "That's… actually very smart, Neville. Learning magical healing might just save us," she admitted quietly. "So… what did Madam Pomfrey say?"
Neville shrugged, setting his notes and parchment on a nearby table. "Told me it's way out of my depth, that it isn't even taught until after NEWTs. But—" he rummaged in his satchel and pulled out a tree book, "—she lent me these."
Hermione's eyes lit up. She nearly abandoned her potion then and there, hurrying over to take the book. She flipped it open, scanning the front page eagerly. "You're kidding… Fundamentals of Magical Healing. Neville, do you know how rare this is?"
"Rare enough that she told me to return it in one piece," Neville said dryly, as he sat down and flicked open his notebook to his rune sketches.
Hermione bit her lip, already halfway absorbed in the introduction. "Can I read it?"
"Of course," Neville said. "We'll study it together. Just don't lose it—she'll have my head."
While she perched on the arm of a chair, already reading, Neville arranged his rune array on the tabletop. He muttered to himself, aligning the final carving. Then, with a tap of his wand, the lines glowed softly—and the small metal plate lit up with a steady, warm glow.
Neville grinned, clapping his hands. "Yes! It works!"
Hermione's head snapped up, the book nearly sliding from her lap. Her eyes widened as the glow filled the corner. She set the book aside and hurried over. "Oh, Neville—that's brilliant. Is this what you've been working on all this time? And you got it to work!"
Neville showing it to her, "yep, basically magical LED lights "
Harry wandered over, squinting at the glowing rune plate. "Wait… that's it? A light? You've been obsessing over this for weeks, and it's just… light?"
Neville raised an eyebrow at him. "Just light? Harry, do you have any idea how backwards the magical world is? Lanterns, candles, bloody floating torches"
Hermione jumped in, nodding firmly. "He's right, Harry. In the Muggle world, this kind of lighting is standard. Electricity changed everything. But in the wizarding world, we're still stuck centuries behind."
Harry scratched his head. "Right… but we've got Lumos, don't we?"
Hermione huffed. "Oh, honestly, Harry, you can't expect people to walk around with their wands lit all day."
Neville smirked, tapping the metal plate. "This—this is scalable. Imagine whole corridors lit without fire, imagine not having to fumble with your wand or candle in the dark while you try to piss."
Harry gave a long whistle. "So you're basically trying to bring electricity to the wizarding world."
Neville just grinned, pride flickering in his eyes. "Something like that."
Hermione leaned forward, the book Pomfrey had given Neville half-forgotten on the armchair. "Neville, this is… honestly, it's brilliant. Practical applications alone—if you could get them stable enough to mount on walls…" Her eyes lit up. "You could transform the entire wizarding world, really."
Neville tapped the switch, and the little metal plate stopped glowing. He leaned back with a small sigh. "Just have to figure out how to mass-produce it," he muttered to himself.
Harry shrugged, unimpressed. "Still just looks like light to me." Then he looked at Neville with a grin. "Well, if you're done with your tinkering, how about a spar?"
Neville glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "Again?"
Harry was already rolling his shoulders and drawing his wand. "You won last time. I want a rematch."
"Mate, I've won every time, but..." Neville let out a theatrical sigh and slid his wand from his sleeve. "It seems you really don't learn, do you?"
Hermione groaned, setting her ladle down with a little shake of her head. "Honestly, boys…" But there was a faint smile tugging at her mouth as she stepped aside to watch.
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