Hogwarts: Neville’s Insert Chapter 41

Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 41

He kept his expression neutral. He didn't want her storming off to Dumbledore demanding answers. If his theory was right, the old man had likely placed some kind of mild compulsion charm on student so they wouldn't talk about certain things with their parents. It would explain why no parents seemed to know about the troll on Halloween.

Before Augusta could press further, Neville smoothly changed the subject.

"Hey, Gran, do you think Harry could stay over for the summer?" he asked casually. "His relatives aren't exactly kind to him."

Augusta pursed her lips thoughtfully but didn't interrupt, so Neville continued. "Oh, and by the way, would it be alright if Hermione visited as well? Maybe even her parents? It'd be nice for her to show them what she's learned so far—especially with the Trace not working inside the manor."

Augusta took a moment, finishing her bite before nodding. "Hmm, I don't see why not. Mr. Potter is welcome to stay if he'd like. It would be nice to have more people around the manor." She took another sip of her tea before adding, "As for Miss Granger, she's welcome as well, and her parents too. Just let me know before inviting them over."

Neville grinned. "Thanks, Gran. I'll send them a letter soon."

….

Morning sunlight streamed over Longbottom Manor, nestled in Birsay on the Orkney Islands. The estate basked in the golden glow, the vast greenery stretching as far as the eye could see.

Neville made his way down the staircase, adjusting the cuffs of his white shirt. He wore long black trousers and a brown sweater vest, his hair neatly swept up. He was heading to the dining room, his stomach already grumbling in anticipation of breakfast.

As he stepped inside, he spotted his grandmother sitting at the table, her sharp eyes scanning the morning paper as she sipped her tea.

"Good morning, Gran," Neville greeted cheerfully as he took a seat beside her.

Augusta looked up from the newspaper and gave him a nod. "Morning, Neville. I see you're all dressed for the day," she remarked, setting the paper down. Her gaze flickered over him. "I take it you're done with your workout. Are you planning on trying out for your house Quidditch team this year? Is that why you've been training so diligently?"

Neville reached for a plate, grabbing a few pancakes and drenching them in syrup before shaking his head. "Nope," he replied, taking a bite.

Augusta raised an eyebrow. "No?"

Neville snorted. "Quidditch?" He swallowed his bite before continuing, "I find the whole sport dumb."

Augusta folded her newspaper, placing it neatly on the table as she gave him a skeptical look. "You don't like Quidditch? I'm surprised—it's usually quite popular with kids your age. Your father, Frank, was fanatic about the sport. He trained hard and made it onto the Gryffindor team in his third year."

Neville shrugged, taking another bite before explaining, "I just find Quidditch poorly balanced. It relies way too much on the Seeker, which makes the rest of the game basically pointless."

Augusta took another sip of her tea, nodding slowly as she considered his words. "Hmm… I suppose when you put it like that, it is heavily biased toward the Seeker position."

Neville glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. His eyes widened slightly. "It's already ten!" he said, sitting up straighter. "We've got to hurry if we want to pick up Harry on time!" He started shoveling his food down, eager to finish quickly.

"Slow down, Neville," Augusta admonished, raising an eyebrow. "You'll choke on your food at this rate. We still have time before it turns eleven."

She set her teacup down and asked, "Has your friend, Mr. Potter, replied to the letter you sent him?"

Neville swallowed a mouthful of pancakes before shaking his head. "No, he hasn't replied to my letter. Actually, he hasn't replied to any of the letters my friends have sent him either."

Augusta frowned slightly. "That's concerning. Could his relatives be blocking his mail?" she mused. "If that's the case, he'll be quite surprised when we show up unannounced."

Neville already knew the real reason—Dobby had been interfering, making sure Harry didn't receive any of his letters.

Shaking his head, Neville set down his fork on his now-empty plate. "I already told Harry I'd be coming in a week to pick him up if you gave permission for him to stay."

Augusta nodded, glancing at the clock. "Well, we should get going then. Have you got everything you need?"

Neville stood up. "Yes, ma'am," he answered as they made their way to the drawing room.

Reaching the room, Augusta turned to him. "Where did you say Mr. Potter stays?"

Neville pulled out the piece of parchment where Harry had written his address. "4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

Augusta nodded. "Surrey, hmm… Since I've been there before, it'll be easier if we take a taxi from the Leaky Cauldron to his place." She grabbed her coat and picked up an umbrella.

Walking over to the fireplace, she reached for a handful of Floo Powder before turning to Neville. "You remember how to use the Floo?"

Neville nodded and grabbed some powder for himself.

"Right then," Augusta said, stepping aside. "Go to Diagon Alley."

Neville stepped into the fireplace, took a deep breath, and threw down the Floo Powder. "Diagon Alley!" he called out as emerald flames roared up around him, swallowing him whole.

…

Neville appeared in the Floo station of Diagon Alley, stepping out of the fireplace and brushing off the stray soot from his clothes. A moment later, Augusta emerged from the Floo next to him, as composed as ever.

"Come on, Neville," she called, ushering him forward.

Neville followed as Augusta led him out of the alley and into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. The morning rush was in full swing, with witches and wizards moving about, shopping and chatting, while owls hooted from their perches outside Eeylops Owl Emporium.

Augusta glanced at Neville. "Is there anything you want to get while we're passing through?"

Neville shook his head. "No, Gran, I'm fine."

She nodded. "Well then, we should make haste." Without wasting any time, she began walking toward the Leaky Cauldron.

Neville followed behind her, taking in the sights around him. This was only his second time here, and the first time, he barely had the chance to explore—mostly because it had taken forever to find a wand that actually worked for him.

As they reached a familiar brick wall at the end of the alley, Augusta stopped and turned to him. "Make sure to remember this, Neville," she instructed.

He watched as she took out her wand and tapped a specific brick—three up, two across—three times. The wall shifted and folded inward, revealing the entrance to a dimly lit pub.

As they stepped inside, Augusta continued, "If you ever need to return, just tap the wall in the same pattern."

Neville nodded, storing the information away. As he followed his grandmother through the pub, he glanced around, taking in the worn-down interior. When was the last time they renovated this place? he wondered, eyeing the cracked wooden tables and the dim lighting.

The magical world, he was starting to realize, seemed stuck in the late 1800s or early 1900s. Everything from the furniture to the clothing styles felt like they hadn't changed in over a century. Maybe even longer.

They made their way past the pub's patrons and toward the exit.

Stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron, Neville blinked as they emerged onto Charing Cross Road, smack dab in the middle of London.

"Welcome to the Muggle side of London, Neville," Augusta said, watching his reaction. "So, what do you think?"

Neville's first thought came out instantly. "Noisy," he muttered, wincing slightly at the sudden shift in atmosphere. The honking cars, the chatter of pedestrians, the occasional blare of music from passing shops—it was loud.

After spending an entire year in a castle, he had almost forgotten how busy the normal world was.

Augusta chuckled. "That's one way to put it. Well, we should catch a cab."

She led him over to the curb, where they hailed a taxi.

As soon as they got in, the driver glanced at them through the rearview mirror. "Where to?"

Neville straightened up and replied, "4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

The driver nodded, pulled into traffic, and began the journey.

Neville gave the driver the address. "4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

The driver nodded and pulled into traffic, starting the journey.

It had been a week since the end of his first year at Hogwarts, and Neville had returned home for the summer.

The past week had been busy. Most of his time was spent studying and researching potential ways to treat his parents, though progress was slow. He had also been practicing his spellcasting with Augusta, refining his control and expanding his repertoire.

Speaking of Augusta, she had taken it upon herself to hire tutors for him—lessons in wizarding etiquette and formal dancing, subjects she deemed essential for the heir of a noble house. The lessons weren't too demanding, taking place only every other day for two hours, with each subject being taught once a week.

Outside of his studies, Neville had also been working on a training schedule for himself, Harry, and Hermione once they arrived. In Harry's case, he'd be staying for the summer, so Neville wanted to make sure they made good use of their time.

But beyond just training, Neville had been thinking about the bigger picture.

Dumbledore's influence in the magical world was something that needed to be undermined.

He remembered how, with the help of the Daily Prophet, Fudge had successfully stripped Dumbledore of much of his power and credibility in the Order of the Phoenix timeline. That gave Neville an idea—a new newspaper. A publication that wasn't controlled by the Ministry or dictated by the whims of powerful figures like Dumbledore.

There was just one problem.

He couldn't run it.

At least, not yet.

He was too young to legally start a business, and he didn't have access to the necessary funds. Sure, the Longbottoms were wealthy, but as a minor, he needed supervision over any major financial decisions. Augusta, as his legal guardian, controlled the family accounts until he turned seventeen. Right now, he could only access his trust vault, which had enough for school expenses but nowhere near enough to fund a newspaper company.

When he had asked Augusta for her thoughts on starting a newspaper, she had actually approved of the idea, acknowledging that an independent news source could be very useful. However, she had also made it clear that she wasn't interested in dealing with the headache of starting a company from scratch—research, hiring, managing—she was already overwhelmed with overseeing the existing Longbottom businesses.

Her advice?

"If you still want to do it when you're old enough, go for it. But for now, focus on your studies."

Neville hadn't pushed further. He understood—she was tired, stretched thin with her responsibilities.

So, for now, he would focus on training, studying, and setting the foundation for what he wanted to do.

…

After an hour-long drive, the taxi pulled into a quiet neighborhood lined with identical houses.

They stopped in front of Number 4, Privet Drive, a pristine, overly neat home that looked as unwelcoming as it felt.

Neville and Augusta stepped out of the taxi, and Augusta paid the driver while Neville walked up to the front door and knocked firmly.

They waited.

A moment later, Augusta joined him at the doorstep just as the door swung open, revealing a very surprised Harry Potter.

"Neville? Lady Longbottom?" Harry blinked in shock, glancing between them.

Neville grinned. "Hey, Harry. You all packed?"

Harry nodded, but before he could say anything else, a loud, irritated voice bellowed from inside the house.

"Boy! Who's at the door?"

Harry winced, turning his head toward the hallway. "It's my friend!" he called back hesitantly.

Heavy footsteps pounded toward them, and a moment later, Vernon Dursley appeared, his face already turning a shade of puce. He eyed Augusta and Neville with barely concealed disdain before his lips curled into a smug sneer.

"So you lot are here to take the boy off our hands for the rest of the summer?" Vernon barked. "No take-backs. We won't be dealing with him again until school starts!"

Augusta bristled at his crude tone but kept her composure. "Yes," she said coolly, "as you so eloquently put it, we are here to take Mr. Potter off your hands for the summer."

Vernon grunted, clearly pleased with himself. "You heard her, boy! Get your things and leave."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. "Right, sir," he muttered before bolting up the stairs.

Vernon turned back to them. "Wait here. I don't want your kind inside my house," he said with a glare.

Augusta's lips curled in distaste, but her voice was laced with mock politeness. "We wouldn't dream of stepping inside such a small home," she said dryly.

Vernon's face darkened, but he merely grumbled under his breath and stepped back inside.

Neville thought to himself, I knew Vernon was unpleasant in the movies, but this is just outright hostility.

A short while later, Harry hurried back down the stairs, his trunk in one hand and Hedwig's cage in the other.

Neville stepped forward and took the cage from him. "Here, let me carry this," he offered.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully.

The moment Harry was outside, Vernon slammed the door shut. Augusta pursed her lips in disapproval. "That man is insufferable," she muttered. "In all my years, I've never met a ruder Muggle."

They headed down the path, Harry apologizing. "I'm sorry about my uncle. He hates anything to do with magic."

"It's not your fault, dear," Augusta reassured him. Then, with a rare softness in her voice, she added, "And you are welcome in our home every summer."

Harry looked up at her, a little stunned.

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

Neville lifted Hedwig's cage door and let her out.

"Go on to Longbottom Manor in Birsay, Hedwig," Neville said, giving her a gentle nudge. The snowy owl hooted and flew off, disappearing into the morning sky.

Harry frowned. "So, how do we get there? Train? A bus?"

Augusta glanced at him. "We'll be Apparating," she explained. "We just need to find a quiet, secluded spot so no Muggles see us."

Harry still looked confused, so Neville clarified, "It's basically teleporting."

Harry blinked. "Oh… right." He hesitated before adding, "There's a playground nearby. It's usually empty around this time."

"That'll do," Augusta said, and they set off toward the playground.

As they walked, Neville glanced at Harry and asked, "By the way, why did you look so surprised when Gran and I showed up? I did tell you I'd come in a week."

Harry hesitated before shrugging. "I didn't think you'd actually come. You said you'd send a letter before coming."

Now Neville understood. So that's why. Feigning ignorance, he frowned. "Huh? I did send you a letter. You didn't get it?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I haven't gotten any mail."

Augusta frowned. "That's odd. The owls came back empty. Even if there was a mail-redirection ward, the letters should have returned to the sender."

Harry shot Neville a knowing look, silently mouthing Dumbledore.

Neville simply shrugged in response, playing along.

They soon reached the playground and found a spot near a large tree.

Augusta turned to them and held out her hands. "Grab onto my arm and don't let go," she instructed. "The first time is uncomfortable, but as long as you hold on, you'll be fine."

Neville grinned mischievously at Harry. "You're totally gonna love traveling this way. Trust me," he said with a shit-eating grin as he grabbed Augusta's outstretched arm.

Harry, looking wary, grabbed her other hand.

With a loud crack, they vanished from the playground.

…

They appeared with another crack in front of the gates of Longbottom Manor.

Neville had long since gotten used to the sensation of Apparition, but Harry—not so much. He was sprawled on the ground, looking like the world had just spun out from under him.

Neville walked over, grinning as he reached down to help him up. "You okay, mate?" he asked, barely holding back laughter. "Told you you'd love it."

Harry groaned, one hand clutching his stomach as he looked miserable, like he might hurl.

Augusta, already walking toward the gates, glanced back. "That's how it is the first time. You'll get used to it," she said smoothly. "I remember Neville being in the exact same condition the first time we Apparated."

Harry took a few deep breaths, slowly regaining his composure before grabbing the handle of his trunk and pulling it along.

As Augusta pushed open the gates, she turned back to him. "Welcome to Longbottom Manor, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up—and his jaw dropped.

The manor was massive.

"It's huge," he muttered, staring in awe.

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