章節 14: A Neville SI Chapter 14

A Neville SI Chapter 14

Author note: Sorry for the short chapter!

Neville tilted his head, puzzled. "Heard what?"

Leaning in closer, Lavender whispered, "Hermione's been in the first-floor lavatory all day, crying her eyes out."

"What? Why?" Neville asked, alarmed.

Parvati sighed. "Apparently, Ron Weasley said something awful to her after Charms. She's been upset ever since."

Neville felt a surge of anger and worry. "She's been crying all day?" He shot a glare down the table at Ron, who looked uncharacteristically guilty, while Harry was giving him a pointed stare.

Lavender nodded. "We tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't come out."

Neville's mind raced. Suddenly, pieces began to fall into place. First-floor lavatory... Halloween... the troll! His eyes widened as he remembered the events from the first book.

"Shit," Neville muttered under his breath.

…

Neville felt his heart race as the realisation hit him. The pieces were all coming together—the troll, Halloween night, and Hermione alone in the girls' lavatory. "I've got to find her," he muttered under his breath, urgency propelling him into action.

Without a second thought, he pushed himself up from the Gryffindor table, his plate of food barely touched.

"Where're you off to?" Seamus called after him, noticing Neville's abrupt departure.

"Forgot something important," Neville replied hastily as he walked past, heading to the doors of the Great Hall. The buzz of conversation and clinking of cutlery faded behind him as he slipped out into the entrance hall.

The corridors were dimly lit by torches flickering along the stone walls. Most students were still at dinner, leaving the hallways empty and quiet. Neville quickened his pace, jogging as he headed up the stairs to the upper floor.

First-floor girls' lavatory, where was it? He paused, thinking to himself, recalling that it was in the west wing. He took off at a sprint, took a sharp turn, and almost collided with a suit of armour as his shoes skidded.

"Oi! Watch where you're going!" shouted a portrait.

"Sorry," he mumbled to the portrait.

Reaching the entrance to the girls' lavatory, Neville slowed down and hesitated for a few moments. He looked around to see if anyone was about; he didn't want anyone finding him entering the girls' lavatory and spreading it around the school. Seeing that no one was around and everyone was at dinner, the chances of being caught were slim.

"I need to hurry," he thought, taking a deep breath and pushing the door open cautiously.

Inside, the lavatory was quiet, the soft drip of a leaky tap the only sound. From one of the closed stalls came a muffled sniffle. He walked over.

"Hermione?" Neville called out tentatively, his voice echoing slightly as he stood in front of the door he could hear the sniffles coming from.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione's voice sounded surprised, but strained—Neville presumed it was from crying.

"What else? I came looking for you," he said gently. "I was worried when you didn't show up for the two classes after lunch. I've been searching for you. I only just heard from Lavender and Parvati that you were here, so I came to get you."

There was a pause before she responded. "I don't want to leave," she said stubbornly. "Just go away."

Neville sighed, glancing anxiously over his shoulder. He needed to get her out of here before the troll arrived. "Hermione, please. You shouldn't be here alone—you've been here all day."

"Just leave me alone. I want to be by myself," she insisted, sniffling.

He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words. "Look, I heard what happened with Ron. He's a git, Hermione. You shouldn't listen to him. He's just jealous of how brilliant you are."

Silence met his words, broken only by a soft sniffle. "He's right," she whispered finally. "I am a know-it-all. I don't have any friends."

"That's not true," Neville said firmly. "Yes, you tend to know things and share them, but that's not a bad thing. You're just trying to make friends the only way you know how. That doesn't make you a bad person."

A pause followed. Neville could almost hear her thoughts, the weight of her insecurities pressing down on her.

"You wouldn't understand," she said quietly from behind the stall door.

He felt a pang of empathy. "Actually, I do understand," he replied gently. "I know what it's like to feel out of place, to think you don't belong. But you do have friends. I'm here, aren't I?"

There was a rustling sound, and the latch of the stall clicked. The door opened slowly, revealing Hermione's tear-streaked face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks flushed. "Do you really mean that?" she asked, her gaze searching his for sincerity.

"Every word," Neville affirmed, feeling a bit awkward as he looked around warily.

She managed a faint smile, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to," she murmured.

Neville offered a small smile in return. "I wouldn't be much of a friend if I left you here, would I?"

Hermione sniffed, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "I suppose not."

"Do you want to go back to the Great Hall or the common room?" he asked gently. "We can skip dinner if you're not up to it."

She hesitated before replying, "I'd prefer the common room, if that's all right."

"Works for me," Neville said with a shrug. "Come on, then."

"Just let me wash my face first," she said, moving towards the sinks.

"Of course," he agreed, leaning against the wall and trying to appear casual, though his mind was racing. 'We need to hurry,' he thought anxiously. 'The troll could be here any minute.'

As she turned on the tap, the sound of running water filled the silence. Hermione splashed her face, the cool water washing away traces of her tears. She glanced at her reflection, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

"You missed two classes today," Neville remarked, attempting to keep the conversation light. "I'll give you the notes from Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Never thought I'd be the one sharing notes," he added with a chuckle.

Hermione gave his arm a gentle smack, shooting him a mildly reproachful look as she dabbed her face with a paper towel. "Very funny," she said, though there was a hint of gratitude in her tone. "So, why did the Headmaster call you to his office?" she asked as they headed towards the door.

Neville hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Oh, that. Snape tried to get me expelled over the assignments," he said as he held the door open for her.

Her eyes widened in shock. "Expelled? You almost got expelled?"

"Well, not exactly," he admitted with a shrug. "He complained about my assignments. I suppose I'll have to let you say 'I told you so' this time."

She smacked his arm again, this time with a bit more force. "I did warn you. So, what happened?"

Neville smirked. "The Headmaster told me to redo my assignments and gave me detention with Snape. But Professor McGonagall, bless her, thought that putting me in detention with Snape would only make things worse. So I've got detention with her instead."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, a mix of exasperation and amusement playing across her features. "You're lucky to get away with just detention and redoing the assignments. I'll have to make sure you do them properly this time. Who knows what you'd hand in otherwise."

He grinned. "Already done. I handed them over to Snape in the Headmaster's office."

Her jaw dropped slightly. "How did you finish them so fast?" Then, realisation dawned on her. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You did this on purpose! You expected this to happen—that's why you had your assignments pre-made!"

Neville raised his hands in mock surrender. "Guilty as charged."

She shook her head, a half-smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible."

He was about to retort when the floor beneath them trembled slightly. A foul odour wafted through the corridor, seeping into the hallway and causing them both to wrinkle their noses.

"What's that smell?" Hermione asked, covering her mouth with a delicate hand.

Neville's eyes widened in alarm. 'It's here,' he thought, his heart pounding in his chest. "Shit!" he whispered, the urgency in his voice unmistakable.

"What's wrong?" she questioned, noticing his sudden change in demeanour.

He looked at her urgently, his expression grave. "We need to get out of here. Now."

Before she could respond, a low grunting noise echoed from around the corner, followed by heavy, dragging footsteps that reverberated through the stone floor as a towering figure entered the corridor they were in.

"Is that—" Hermione began, her face paling as realization set in.

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