Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 92
Neville inclined his head. "Thank you, I don't think I'd have won it if it weren't for your family's recommendation."
Ophelia waved a slender hand dismissively. "Nonsense. You'd have earned it regardless—it was an extraordinary discovery. Our family will always be grateful for what you've done."
Cyrus nodded in agreement. "That's actually why we came over. Would this Sunday evening be suitable for our dinner?"
Neville straightened slightly. "Er. I would have to ask grand."
"Of course, but do let us know." Ophelia nodded.
The band transitioned into a new melody, then a softer tune that made the golden lanterns overhead shimmer more brightly.
At that moment, Astoria tugged lightly on her mother's sleeve. Ophelia glanced down, and her lips curved into a knowing smile as she followed her daughter's gaze—straight toward Neville.
"Well, Mr Longbottom," she said with a faint laugh, "it seems little Astoria would like a dance."
Astoria's face flushed scarlet as everyone turned toward her. She stammered, "M-Mother!" but the look on her face said otherwise.
Neville rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, smiling. "Er—sure, why not?"
Astoria's blush deepened, but she gave a shy little nod as Neville offered his hand.
…
Saturday, 7 August 1993 – Longbottom Manor
Sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the drawing room. Hermione paced by the coffee table, clutching The Daily Prophet tightly in both hands, her curls slightly frizzed from her agitation.
Harry slouched in one of the armchairs, a mug of hot chocolate in hand, watching her with concern. "Calm down, Hermione," he said.
"Calm down? How can I calm down?" Hermione exclaimed, her frustration bubbling over. "How is she allowed to write things about people like that?" The paper crinkled in her grip. "She's making it sound like Neville goes around bullying people!"
"Honestly! I knew she was bad, but this is outrageous! She's implying he's dangerous. She doesn't even have to say it outright; she lets her readers fill in the blanks for her." Hermione groaned and dropped into the chair opposite him, burying her face in the newspaper. "I can't believe she's allowed to print this rubbish."
Hermione looked at the clock and said, "Why hasn't he come down yet? It's already 11:30." "
Harry shrugged and said, "His probably still sleeping."
Hermione rubbed her face and sighed, "Ugh, how is he still asleep this late? He's usually up by now. The one day you want him to wake up early..."
Harry shrugged and set his cup down. "He must have stayed up late working on something yesterday. You know how he is—probably got caught up with his runes; he's been tinkering with them all summer."
Hermione groaned, exasperated. "That's it—I'm going to wake him. He needs to see what Skeeter has written." She stood abruptly, folding the paper. "Come on, Harry."
Harry blinked at her. "Wait, what? You're dragging me into this?"
"You're coming," she declared, already halfway to the door. "You're his friend too."
Harry sighed and stood up, setting his cup on the table and following after her.
Soon they reached Neville's room door, and Hermione knocked on it. "Neville, we are coming in!"
...
Sunlight streamed through the curtains of Neville's room, cutting across the cluttered desk piled high with parchment, rune sketches, and half-finished contraptions. One of his enchanted lamps buzzed faintly in the corner, casting a steady blue glow over the mess.
Neville was fast asleep on his bed, sprawled diagonally across the mattress with one arm dangling off the edge. His hair stuck up in every direction, and a faint line of drool glistened on the pillow.
The door creaked open. Hermione slipped inside first, the Daily Prophet still clutched tightly in her hands. Harry followed, looking more amused.
Hermione took one look at Neville and let out an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, he's still asleep? It's nearly noon!"
Harry smirked. "Told you. He probably stayed up half the night fiddling with those rune-lights again."
"Typical," Hermione muttered under her breath as she crossed the room. She set the newspaper down on his desk with a sharp thud. "Neville!" she said firmly, shaking his shoulder. "Wake up!"
Neville groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket higher over his head. "Mmf… five more minutes…"
"You already slept through the morning," Hermione scolded, leaning closer. "Neville, wake up!"
There was a muffled grumble from under the blanket before one bleary green eye cracked open. "Huh? …What time is it?" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
"Nearly eleven-forty-five," Hermione said, arms crossed. "And you need to see this."
"Morning, mate," Harry said cheerfully, sitting down at the foot of the bed.
Neville squinted at them, his voice half a mumble. "What is it now? Can't this wait?"
Hermione huffed, completely unimpressed. "You're on the front page, Neville!"
That got one of his eyes to open a bit wider—though only slightly.
She unfolded the paper and thrust it right in front of his face. "Look!"
Neville blinked blearily at the moving photograph. It showed him shaking hands with Minister Fudge, the caption underneath reading:
Hogwarts Prodigy Discovers Treatment for Curse That Ended Wizarding Families
He blinked once. "Hmm. That's… nice." Then promptly shut his eye again.
Hermione's jaw fell open. "Nice?! Neville, you're in the Daily Prophet! Half of magical Britain is probably reading about you right now!"
Harry laughed, shaking his head. "Honestly, Hermione, I think he's more excited about getting to sleep in."
Hermione shot him a look before turning back to Neville. "You cannot possibly be this calm about it!" she said, giving his shoulder another shake. "Wake up!"
Neville groaned, burying his face deeper into the pillow. "I'm listening," he mumbled, voice muffled. "Just… read it out, will ya?"
Hermione let out a long, dramatic sigh but unfolded the paper again all the same. "Fine," she said primly, smoothing the pages.
She began reading aloud, her voice growing more indignant with each line.
"Hogwarts Prodigy Discovers Treatment for Curse That Ended Wizarding Families!" she announced. "The wizarding world was shocked yesterday to discover that the most prestigious award in wizarding Britain was awarded to a thirteen-year-old wizard who will be starting his third year in the coming term."
Neville yawned into his pillow.
Hermione ignored him and continued, "In an unprecedented feat for someone his age, Mr Neville Longbottom, heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom, was last night awarded the Order of Merlin, Second Class, for his contribution toward the treatment of Blood Malediction—a hereditary curse long thought incurable."
She flipped the page slightly and read on, her brow furrowing. "Mr Longbottom discovered that phoenix tears can be used to treat the hereditary curse. Sources at St Mungo's confirm that the use of phoenix tears—specifically injecting them into the blood of an afflicted person—has been shown to reduce the effects of the curse significantly, allowing the person to live a normal life so long as they continue to receive a monthly dose."
Hermione pressed on, half reading, half muttering. "According to the head mediwitch at St Mungo's, the simple but brilliant discovery could revolutionise the treatment of hereditary curses that have long plagued old wizarding families. The discovery has been hailed as one of the most promising advancements in modern healing."
She dropped the paper onto her lap with a sigh. "It goes on about how you credited Madam Pomfrey for validating and testing the treatment method, and that you split the prize money with her, and donated your potion to St Mungo's."
Neville gave a small nod without lifting his head, his cheek still pressed to the pillow. facing Hermione. He let out another wide yawn that muffled his words."Mm. That sounds about right." He yawned again. "Is that all?"
Hermione stared at him, scandalised. "Of course not! It goes on with interviews from Dumbledore and half the Ministry!"
Neville cracked one sleepy eye open. "That's just brilliant," he said dryly. "What did he say, then?"
Hermione flicked through the paper until she found the section, straightening it with a little rustle. "Well, let's see… here: When asked, Headmaster Dumbledore, what can you tell us about Mr Longbottom's achievement? he replied—"
She put on a slightly pompous imitation of Dumbledore's calm, measured tone.
"'Mr Longbottom—yes, quite the remarkable boy. His discovery concerning the treatment for hereditary maledictions is both fascinating and, dare I say, rather promising. It's rare to see such keen insight in one so young, though I must say, Hogwarts has always had a way of inspiring its students toward unexpected brilliance.'"
Harry snorted quietly. "He never misses a chance to make it about Hogwarts."
Hermione ignored him and kept reading. "When asked if Mr Longbottom had help from the staff?—'Naturally,' he said, 'he worked under supervision. Madam Pomfrey, I believe, was instrumental in verifying his results. But the initial idea was his own, born out of compassion for those who suffer from these terrible ailments. It speaks highly of his empathy as much as his intellect.'"
Hermione continued, "When asked if he thinks this means we'll see more students following in his footsteps—tackling great discoveries so early? Professor Dumbledore smiled and replied, 'One hopes they will continue to learn before they try to change the world, hmm? Curiosity is admirable, but wisdom comes with time—and time, I fear, cannot be rushed. Mr Longbottom's achievement is a promising beginning, not an end. He has a great deal yet to learn, as do we all.'"
Hermione pressed her lips together to hide a smile, though her tone remained prim. "When asked if he saw this as the beginning of a bright future for Mr Longbottom, Dumbledore said: 'Oh, I daresay he has the makings of a fine wizard—one who might one day make a difference in our world. But for now, I hope he remembers that even the greatest minds began as students. There's still much for him to learn—and I look forward to watching him grow.'"
She folded the paper neatly and looked up. "And that's the end of Dumbledore's section."
Neville finally sat up, yawning wide as he rubbed at his eyes. His hair stuck up in every direction. "Well, that wasn't so bad," he said sleepily. "Could've been worse."
Harry grinned. "We haven't even got to the worst part yet."
Neville blinked at them, still half-dazed. "There's more?"
Hermione sighed and flipped a few pages. "Unfortunately, yes. Rita Skeeter's piece."
Neville blinked again, properly awake now. "Rita? How? We made sure to avoid her the entire night!" His brows furrowed as he thought it over. 'was she spying on us?'
Neville frowned. "What did she write about me?"
"She wrote about everyone," Hermione said grimly, flipping the page. "Listen to this."
"The Wizarding World's New Golden Boy – or Something Darker?"
By Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent
The wizarding world was charmed last night by young Neville Longbottom, the unexpected hero behind what many are calling a breakthrough in magical medicine. Polite, modest, and curiously composed for a thirteen-year-old, Mr Longbottom gave all credit to Hogwarts matron Madam Poppy Pomfrey and even donated his share of the prize money to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maledies and Injuries. A gesture of humility—or perhaps careful image-crafting?
Neville groaned, lying back on the bed. "Great, She starts with compliments then ends it with suspicion."
"That's just the beginning," Hermione said tightly, and kept reading.
Some guests were quick to note that Mr Longbottom avoided the press entirely after the ceremony, declining interviews and vanishing from sight before questions could be asked. Was it shyness, modesty—or something else altogether? Only time will tell.
Harry snorted, unable to help himself. "Yeah, because we were avoiding you."
Hermione continued.
'While the Ministry celebrates young Mr Longbottom as a shining example of intellect and humility, not everyone who knows him shares the same view. Several Hogwarts students described the Longbottom heir as unusually powerful for his age—particularly in wandless magic, a discipline most adult witches and wizards find notoriously difficult. One classmate observed that 'he can hex or trip people without lifting his wand—it's impressive, but also a bit unsettling.'
Neville blinked. "You've got to be kidding me."
'Others suggested that the boy's mild manners may hide a sharper edge. 'Longbottom? He's… different at school. Everyone thinks he's this shy, decent sort, but trust me—he's not as harmless as he looks. He acts all nice to the professors and his friends, but he's vicious when he wants to be. I've seen him trip people, make their cauldron explode during potions, that sort of thing—and without even a wand! Creepy, if you ask me. He likes people to think he's noble, but he's got a temper. I've been on the receiving end. He'll smile while he does it too—that's what's strange about him; it's like he enjoys it.'
Neville groaned again, rubbing his face. "Let me guess—the 'anonymous sources' are Malfoy and his lot."
"Who else have you ever tripped before?" Hermione muttered.
Harry's jaw tightened. "No wonder he looked smug last night. He must've given her that interview before he came over to us."
Hermione continued, "'None would speak on record, of course, but one can't help wondering—does such self-possession in someone so young hint at extraordinary control… or simply a fondness for it? Mr Longbottom's discovery may indeed change lives, but power—magical or otherwise—always raises a question older than Hogwarts itself: when brilliance comes so early, can wisdom keep pace?'"
Neville groaned. "She's making it sound like I'm some sort of psychopath!"
Hermione exhaled through her nose, clearly trying to stay calm. "then she moved on to Harry. Listen to this." She straightened the paper and began to read.
"And what of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived — now seen so often in the company of Mr Longbottom? Though the pair are known to be close friends at Hogwarts, not everyone is convinced the friendship will last. One well-placed student observer remarked that 'Potter doesn't like not being the centre of attention. You saw his face when Longbottom got that medal—couldn't even clap properly. Everyone's saying it,' noting that he appeared unusually tense during last night's ceremony. Some guests even suggested that Potter's applause came a touch too late, his smile a shade too forced. Perhaps it was only surprise—or perhaps the burden of sharing the spotlight is heavier than expected. As one classmate put it delicately: 'Potter's used to being the hero. Now someone else is, and I'm not sure he likes it. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if their friendship doesn't last long. Potter doesn't do equals. Ask anyone—when that Weasley boy lost his memory, Potter stopped talking to him. Now he's moved on to Longbottom. But I suppose that's what Potter does best, isn't it? Making everything about himself.' Is it simply friendly rivalry between two gifted boys—or the beginning of a quiet competition for the public's admiration? Time, as ever, will tell."
When Hermione finished,
Neville turned his head, one eyebrow raised. "Jealous of me, were you, Harry?" he asked, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
Harry shot him a flat look. "Sod off." He leaned back slightly. "I'm really going to hex Malfoy the next time I see him."
Hermione frowned, flipping to the next page. "Oh, there's more, this parts about me" she said darkly. "Listen to this."
'Seated beside Mr Longbottom throughout the evening was Miss Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born witch known at Hogwarts for her remarkable intellect and close companionship with both Mr Longbottom and Mr Potter. Dressed modestly but elegantly, Miss Granger appeared perfectly at ease among the Ministry's elite—though some pure-blood attendees were less than impressed. When asked about Miss Granger, one classmate said, "Granger? Oh, her. She's always hanging about them—Potter and Longbottom both. It's sort of her thing, really. Latches on to whoever's in the spotlight. Don't get me wrong, she's clever, but she knows it—and she never lets anyone forget it. Honestly, it's pathetic. Probably thinks being seen with them makes her important." Admirers might call her loyalty admirable; others, ambition. Is Miss Granger merely a devoted friend and scholar—or could Hogwarts' brightest witch be aiming for more than academic success?'
Hermione lowered the paper, fuming. "She makes me sound like—like I'm using you!"
Neville sighed and sat up, rubbing a hand through his messy hair. "Honestly, it's not that bad."
Hermione stared at him, incredulous. "Not that bad? She's clearly implying you're dangerous, I'm some over-ambitious schemer, and Harry's jealous!"
Neville gave a small shrug, calm but weary. "It could've been worse. At least she didn't outright say it. And besides, Luna's interview hasn't been published yet — once hers comes out, it'll balance things."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You really think people will forget this?"
Neville nodded. "Yeah. Once we're back at Hogwarts, the Prophet'll find something else to write about. Skeeter moves on the moment the buzz fades — they always do. And really, people have got better things to do than fixate on three teenagers."
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