Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 70
In a flash of blue flames, they reappeared high above the Basilisk's head, and Lumina let go of Neville's vest.
Neville fell fast, sword in hand. He angled his body, aiming for the top of the creature's skull—right between its eyes.
With a roar of "die motherfucker", Neville drove the blade down with his full weight behind it.
The sword plunged in deep. The Basilisk screamed, thrashing wildly.
Neville drove the blade in deeper, gritting his teeth as he twisted it hard.
The Basilisk let out another roar, thrashing violently. Its massive body crashed into the chamber walls.
Neville held on as long as he could but soon lost his grip and was flung into the air, tumbling.
Before he could hit the ground, Lumina streaked through the air and caught him by the back of his sweater vest, wings not even straining against the weight.
Below them, the Basilisk let out one final, bone-rattling roar—then collapsed with a thunderous crash, its body slamming to the ground and going still. Dead.
Lumina descended slowly, wings beating steady and sure, and gently lowered Neville back onto the stone floor.
He dropped to one knee, gasping for breath, chest heaving. "Well…" Neville muttered, breathless and aching, "that… that actually worked."
…
Monday, 15th February 1993 – Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts
Professor McGonagall paced back and forth across the office, her robes swishing with each step, worry etched deep into her face.
The fireplace flared green, and Albus Dumbledore stepped through the Floo, dusting off his robes calmly.
"Minerva," he said, brushing ash from his sleeve, "what's happened?"
She turned sharply. "It's the Chamber, Albus. There's been another message... but this time—this time, students have been taken."
Dumbledore's expression sobered. "Taken? By the Heir?"
She nodded grimly. "It was scrawled right beneath the original message—'Their skeletons will lie in the Chamber forever.' Two girls are missing."
"Who?"
"That's what doesn't make sense," McGonagall said, voice tight. "It's the Greengrass sisters—Astoria and Daphne. Both pure-blood witches. Astoria fainted this morning and was brought to the Hospital Wing. Daphne stayed behind to watch over her. Poppy left them for only a moment, and when she returned, they were gone."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "I see. And Severus?"
"He's gone to fetch their parents."
Dumbledore gave a small nod, but said nothing.
McGonagall wrung her hands. "Albus, we have to do something. We should contact the Aurors—if the Chamber really has been opened, we can't waste time."
Just then, the door opened, and Snape entered, followed by two figures.
The man was tall, sharply dressed, with neatly combed blond hair and a look of cold curiosity. The woman beside him, also blonde, wore a deep expression of worry as she stepped inside.
"I've brought them," Snape said simply.
Cyrus Greengrass's eyes flicked around the room. "What is this about, Headmaster? What's happened?"
Ophelia Greengrass spoke next, her voice trembling slightly. "Does this have something to do with Astoria?"
McGonagall looked to Dumbledore, who gave a solemn nod.
"I'm afraid it's worse than that," he said quietly. "Mr. Greengrass… your daughters have been taken. By the Heir of Slytherin."
Ophelia gasped, hand flying to her mouth, her face turning pale.
Cyrus stiffened, voice low and sharp. "Taken? What do you mean—taken? What the bloody hell is going on?"
Snape stepped forward, his tone clipped. "Exactly what it sounds like. You may have heard that the Heir has been attacking Muggle-borns. Well… it seems your daughters were taken to the Chamber."
"No—no, not my babies—not my little girls!" Ophelia cried, covering her face with both hands as her body shook with sobs.
Cyrus immediately stepped closer and held her, glaring at the staff through gritted teeth. "This has to be some mistake. Why would the Heir go after them? They're pure-bloods!"
McGonagall's voice was tight. "We don't know why they were targeted. Astoria had fainted earlier and was resting in the Hospital Wing. Daphne stayed behind to watch her. Madam Pomfrey left them for a short while… and when she returned, they were gone."
Dumbledore spoke quietly, "It's possible they saw something—perhaps they knew who the Heir was. That may be why they were taken."
Ophelia sobbed even harder, trembling.
McGonagall gently pulled a chair forward and guided her to sit.
"Headmaster, please…" Ophelia cried, pleading through her tears. "You have to save them. Please, I'm begging you…"
Cyrus looked between the professors, his voice tight with panic. "Surely the Aurors have been informed by now? They'll know what to do, won't they?" He turned to Dumbledore, eyes sharp. "And you—you must know where they've been taken. You've got a plan, don't you?" He helped his wife sit, still looking desperately at the headmaster.
But Dumbledore slowly shook his head.
"I'm afraid… we don't know where the Chamber is," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."
Ophelia covered her face again and sobbed, shoulders shaking.
Cyrus stood rigidly beside her, hands clenched. "What do you mean you can't do anything?" he snapped. "You're Dumbledore! Are you telling me you're just going to sit here and let my daughters die?!"
Dumbledore, ever calm, replied gently, "Cyrus… we don't know where the Chamber is. We've searched for decades. Without knowing the entrance, we cannot act."
Before Cyrus could shout again, a voice interrupted them.
A portrait near the door stirred. The painted witch inside tilted her head and spoke, "Headmaster—there's a young lass at the door. Looks quite frantic, she does."
Dumbledore turned to the painting. "Let her in."
The door creaked open—and in rushed a breathless, panicked Hermione Granger.
…
Hogwarts Corridor
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the stone halls.
Hermione dragged Ron by the arm as they bolted up the staircase leading to the Headmaster's Office. She looked flushed and breathless, but determined. Ron, on the other hand, looked like he was about to collapse.
"Oi—slow down!" Ron wheezed, trying to pull his arm free. "My legs are about to fall off! Where are we even—?"
"We don't have time, Ron!" Hermione snapped without looking back. "Harry and Neville are in danger!"
They reached the landing, Hermione wrenching open the heavy wooden door that led to the corridor outside the Headmaster's office.
Ron groaned. "Who even are Harry and Neville? You've been dragging me all over the castle, and I don't even know who you are!" He stomped his foot, stopping in place, frustration written all over his face.
Hermione huffed, still catching her breath. "Ron, please—just trust me. We're nearly there!"
Since leaving Lockhart's office, she'd hauled him through half the castle. First to McGonagall's office—empty. A portrait told them she was in the Headmaster's office, so they'd sprinted up the West Tower, barely slowing down.
At last, they reached the gargoyle statue guarding the Headmaster's entrance.
Hermione let go of Ron's arm and ran up to it, voice rising.
"Professor! Professor McGonagall —it's urgent, please! We need your help! Please!"
The gargoyle rumbled as it shifted aside, stone grinding against stone. A spiral staircase rose into view.
Ron groaned. "Brilliant. More stairs."
"We don't have time for this, Ron—come on!" Hermione snapped, grabbing his wrist and dragging him up.
They hurried up the winding stairs, and Hermione shoved the door open without knocking.
"Professor—!" she called out, then stopped short.
Dumbledore stood at the centre of the room, looking grave. Beside him were a blond man and woman—Cyrus and Ophelia Greengrass. Ophelia was sobbing into her hands, her shoulders trembling.
McGonagall turned at the noise, eyes widening in surprise. "Miss Granger? Mister Weasley?" Her expression quickly shifted to stern disapproval. "What are you doing out of your common room? You'd better have a very good explanation."
Hermione opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Snape cut in with a sneer.
"Probably poking their noses where they don't belong, as usual."
"Professor!" Hermione said frantically, ignoring him. "You have to help—Neville and Harry—!"
Snape scoffed. "Whatever foolishness Potter and Longbottom are up to, we've got more pressing concerns—"
"They went down to the Chamber!" Hermione shouted.
A stunned silence fell over the room.
Ophelia's sobbing stopped abruptly. She lifted her head, tear-streaked and pale.
Dumbledore's voice was quiet but urgent. "Miss Granger… please. Tell us exactly what happened."
"They've gone down to the Chamber of Secrets!" Hermione repeated, chest heaving. "They're trying to stall the Heir until help arrives. I don't know how long they can hold out—please, you have to help them!"
McGonagall gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "They went into the Chamber? Merlin's beard—what were those two thinking?!"
Ron, still panting, finally spoke up. "Er… who's Neville again? And why've you dragged me all over the—?"
Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
"Oi—ow!"
Snape arched a brow. "It would seem Mr Weasley has suffered an Obliviation mishap. How charming."
Hermione shot him a glare. "We went to Professor Lockhart. He tried to Obliviate us both. I jumped out of the way—Ron didn't. But that's not important right now."
Dumbledore stepped forward, eyes suddenly sharp and focused. "Miss Granger, did they say how they got into the Chamber?"
Hermione nodded quickly. "Neville worked it out weeks ago. It's in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom—the sink with the snake on the tap. You have to speak Parseltongue to open it. Neville gave me this—" She reached into her bag and pulled out a small tape recorder. "He recorded Harry saying 'open' in Parseltongue. Just in case."
McGonagall paled. "The monster… a Basilisk? Oh heavens. Albus—we have to go. Now."
Cyrus Greengrass stood up straight. "Then what are we waiting for? We know where they are. Headmaster—you'll lead us there. At once."
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes. We leave immediately." He turned. "Severus, come with me. Minerva, fetch Madam Pomfrey. And take Mr Weasley with you—he'll need looking at. Miss Granger—please, lead the way."
McGonagall snapped to action. "At once."
Ophelia rose from her chair, still wiping her tear-streaked cheeks. "I'm coming as well. Those are my daughters."
Dumbledore inclined his head solemnly. "Of course."
And with that, they rushed out of the office together, robes billowing, urgency in every step.
…
In the Chamber of Secrets
Neville knelt on the damp stone floor, panting, shoulders rising and falling with each breath.
Lumina fluttered down and landed gently on his shoulder, chirping softly as she nuzzled against the side of his head.
Neville gave her a tired smile and reached up to rub her warm, feathered head. "You did great, girl. Really."
Harry landed nearby and quickly knelt beside him. "You alright, mate?"
Neville gave a short nod. "Yeah... just tired. That's all."
Harry looked at Lumina, blinking in awe. "So this is Lumina, huh? What is she?" He reached out to pet her, and Lumina leaned into his hand with a soft trill.
Neville chuckled. "She's a phoenix. Blue-coloured, even. Bet that's gonna be a surprise when everyone sees her."
Harry turned to glance at the Basilisk's massive form lying stretched out across the stone floor. "Is it dead?"
Neville followed his gaze and nodded again. "Most likely."
Just then, a girl's scream rang out, echoing sharply through the chamber.
Both boys jolted. Neville's eyes flicked toward the sound before he exhaled. "They must be awake. Probably scared stiff seeing that thing. You should go calm them down."
The Basilisk's corpse lay in between them and the two girls.
"I'll go check on them," Harry said, standing up.
Neville nodded. "yeah, Go on."
As Harry hurried around the serpent's body, Neville could faintly hear him saying, "Daphne, it's okay—the snake's gone. Are you hurt?"
Neville turned back to the Basilisk's head. He stepped over cautiously, reached for the sword hilt still embedded deep between the creature's eyes, and gave it a hard tug.
It didn't move.
"It's really in there, huh…" Neville muttered, frowning.
Lumina chirped quietly, nudging his cheek.
"Yeah, yeah," Neville murmured. "Got it."
Bracing one foot against the Basilisk's skull, Neville gripped the sword with both hands and pulled with a grunt.
With a squelching sound, the blade finally came free, and Neville staggered back a few steps from the force of it.
He looked down at the blade—thick with dark blood—and gave it a flick. Drops splattered onto the ground. "Definitely needs a wash," he muttered, holding it at arm's length.
Neville gave the blood-covered blade a little shake, muttering, "Definitely needs a wash."
He made his way over to the Basilisk's gaping jaws and spotted the diary jammed between one of the serpent's massive fangs. Carefully, he reached in and pried it loose, making sure he didn't nick himself on the venom-coated tooth.
He stared at the battered, punctured diary in his hand. "One down… six more to go," he muttered, glancing up at the Basilisk's jagged teeth. 'Might as well take a few… never know when you'll need Basilisk venom.'
Gripping the sword tightly, Neville swung it down against one of the fangs. The first strike cracked it, the second knocked it loose. He did the same to a second tooth, collecting both and tucking them into his sling bag.
Just then, he heard Daphne's voice, shaky and confused: "She… she's not waking up."
Harry's voice followed, concerned. "Maybe she's just tired or something?"
Neville frowned and quickly stepped around the Basilisk's body, walking over to where Daphne was kneeling beside Astoria, her hand gently shaking her sister's shoulder. Harry hovered nearby, uncertain.
"Tory, wake up," Daphne whispered again, more desperate this time.
Neville crouched down beside them. "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone sharpening.
Harry looked over. "It's Astoria. She's not waking up. Daphne came round fine after the diary was destroyed, so Astoria should've too, right? You think something's wrong?"
Daphne wiped her tears, her voice shaky. "We need to take her to Madam Pomfrey."
Neville leaned over and studied the younger girl. Her face was pale—far too pale. He reached out and pressed two fingers to her neck, trying to find her pulse.
It was there—but weak. Unsteady.
Neville's heart sank. "Her pulse is really low... I don't think we'll make it to Pomfrey in time. Something else is wrong."
His mind flicked back to earlier that day—when Astoria had fainted in the corridor.
Daphne's face crumpled as she started to sob."No…"
Tears welled up in her eyes as she began to sob. "We need to take her to Madam Pomfrey—please—"
Neville turned to her, his tone gentle but urgent. "Daphne. This morning, when she fainted… do you know why? Come on, if there's anything—anything at all—you have to tell us. Maybe we can help."
Daphne nodded slowly, wiping her eyes again. "She has… she has malediction. That's why she fainted."
Neville's expression darkened. "So that's it…" he muttered, more to himself. 'The curse must've already been weakening her, and then Tom leeching her life on top of that… he needed Daphne because Astoria wasn't strong enough alone.'
Harry, still crouched beside Astoria, looked up, confused. "Malediction?"
Neville turned slightly. "It's a blood curse. Passed down through families. It doesn't kill you outright—but it eats away at you over time. Slowly. Painfully."
Harry frowned. "You think that's what's doing this to her now?"
Neville nodded. "Yeah. Between the curse and Riddle draining her, she's barely holding on."
He rubbed his chin, thinking. 'Would that even work…?'
Just then, Lumina landed on his shoulder, chirping loudly.
Neville blinked, turning toward her. "You think so? You really think that'll work?"
Lumina chirped again and gave a little nod, nuzzling his cheek.
Daphne looked between Neville and Lumina, biting her lip. "What? What will work?"
"Phoenix tears," Neville said, locking eyes with her. "But Daphne—I can't promise anything."
"Do it," Daphne said immediately, voice trembling. "Please—just try."
Neville nodded and quickly rummaged through his sling bag, pulling out a water bottle and a pen. He downed the rest of the water, then poured out what was left before pulling out his wand.
Harry stepped closer. "What do phoenix tears do?"
"They're one of the most powerful healing substances in the world," Neville explained, already focused. "Only thing that can counter Basilisk venom—and basically heal anything short of death."
With a flick of his wand, Neville transfigured the bottle into a small glass vial. Then, he dismantled the pen, transfiguring its casing into a needle-like syringe. A quick Scourgify cleaned them both.
He held the vial gently to Lumina's eyes. The phoenix blinked once, then tilted her head forward. A single glowing tear fell into the vial—then another, and another. When it was half full, Lumina leaned back, done.
Neville nodded to her gratefully and drew the tears into the syringe.
Daphne frowned, confused. "Why not just pour it into her mouth?"
Neville shook his head. "It won't work like that. It needs to get into her blood, fast."
He looked to both of them. "Daphne, hold her hand steady. Harry—shine Lumos on the inside of her arm. I need to find a vein."
They moved quickly. Daphne lifted her sister's arm, holding it steady. Harry knelt beside her and raised his wand. "Lumos."
Neville checked the syringe, cleared the air bubbles, and carefully found the vein. "Here goes," he muttered.
He slid the needle in, slow and steady, injecting the tears. When it was done, he set the syringe aside, and Harry extinguished the light.
For a few moments, no one said a word. Then, slowly, the colour started to return to Astoria's cheeks.
Daphne leaned in. "Did it work?" Her voice trembled with hope.
And then—
Astoria's eyes fluttered open.
"Daphne?" she whispered weakly.
"Stori!" Daphne broke down, hugging her sister tightly as tears ran down her cheeks.
Neville sat back on his heels, letting out a long breath. "Bloody hell… it actually worked."
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