Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 64
Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "But that's… that's awful! Hagrid's not the Heir of Slytherin. Arresting him isn't going to solve anything!"
Harry nodded grimly. "Yeah, we know. But the Minister's not after the truth — he just wants someone to blame. A scapegoat. And Hagrid… he was the one they blamed last time, wasn't he?"
Neville gave a slow nod. "Exactly. Unless we know who the Heir actually is, there's not much we can do."
Neville lay back on his bed with a quiet sigh, eyes staring up at the ceiling.
Hermione glanced between them, hesitant. "Should we… should we tell a professor? About what we've found so far?"
But Neville cut in before she could finish. "Like I said before. Dumbledore probably already knows. Everything that happens in the castle." He glanced at Harry as he spoke,. " Us telling him won't make much difference."
Harry met Neville's gaze and gave a small, reluctant nod. "So... he wants me to confront Tom Riddle myself, doesn't he?"
Hermione looked between the two of them, clearly uneasy, but didn't argue.
"Probably, " Neville nodded as he kept staring at the ceiling, his brow furrowed. 'Should I just let them shut the place down?' he wondered. 'Dumbledore will lose pull if that happens, that's good … but if the school closes, everything becomes unpredictable. and The diary might vanish."
…
Tuesday, January 19th, 1993 – Great Hall, Hogwarts
The Great Hall was quieter than usual that morning. Not silent, but the sort of quiet where people were talking, just not as loud as they usually did. Conversations were hushed, nervous glances being traded between students.
It had been two days since Penelope Clearwater was found petrified in the astronomy tower, and the whole school had been on edge since.
Neville sat at the Gryffindor table, dressed and ready for the day. He had one leg propped up lazily, his arms on the table as he smeared strawberry jam onto a half-cut croissant. He took a bite and chewed slowly, not really tasting it.
The rules they'd brought in after Penelope was found had driven him up the wall. Curfews. No wandering alone. No more dueling practice. Even no to the library.
'Bloody brilliant,' he thought dryly, glancing at the enchanted ceiling above.
Hermione sat beside him, already halfway through her breakfast and nose-deep in the Daily Prophet. Harry was across from them, flipping through a book, some magical theory thing he'd borrowed from Neville. Ron was next to him, forking sausages into his mouth like he was on a timer.
Luna hadn't joined them today—she was at the Ravenclaw table with her housemates, looking dreamily at her plate while one of the other girls talked her ear off.
Neville took a sip from his goblet of orange juice, eyes drifting now and then toward the Hufflepuff table. He wasn't staring—just watching, quiet and casual- as he bit into his croissant, looking to see if any of them were acting odd.
Hermione's voice pulled him back. "Hey, guys—look at this," she said, tapping the paper. "A Muggle train disappeared yesterday."
Neville blinked. "Disappeared?"
"Yeah," she said, her brow furrowed as she read aloud. " 'A train went missing yesterday while heading from Paddington to Reading. Muggles were left stranded at the station for hours as investigators scrambled to locate the vehicle. As of this morning, neither the train nor its passengers have been found.'"
Neville lowered the croissant onto his plate. "Do they know what happened to it?"
Hermione shook her head, folding the newspaper slightly as she kept reading. "No. There's an investigation underway, but listen to this part—'While officials suggest a mundane technical failure, some within the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes have floated the theory that this could be the result of a prank gone wrong. Meanwhile, critics accuse the Ministry of neglecting its duty to combat anti-Muggle sentiment, raising concerns that the disappearance may have been deliberate.'"
Harry leaned forward, brow creased. "What about the people on board? Do they say anything about them?"
Hermione glanced back at the article. "Not really. It says the train might've been running empty, but nothing is confirmed. The Ministry hasn't said anything official." Her tone didn't sound convinced.
"But why?" Harry asked, confused. "What would anyone gain by making a train vanish?"
Harry looked confused. "But why? What would anyone gain by making a train disappear?"
Neville shrugged. "Could be a message. Or maybe just a way to draw attention away from something else."
Ron stabbed a sausage with his fork. "Or maybe it's a message from You-Know-Who's old followers or something. I mean, I've heard stuff like this happened during the war."
Hermione gave him a look. "Ron, why would they do that now? They've been quiet since You-Know-Who vanished. Stirring things up would only bring trouble on their heads."
Ron shrugged. "Yeah, well… those nutters were never exactly known for their brains, were they? They did follow him willingly, after all."
Neville set down his goblet. "Feels more like a prank that went too far. Or just the Ministry messing up. They've been suspiciously quiet about it, and that usually means they're covering their own backs."
Ron nodded slowly, mouth half-full of sausage. "Yeah… sounds about right. Classic Ministry move — muck it up, then pretend it never happened."
Hermione gave Neville a sideways glance, her brows drawn together. "You really think it's just a prank? A whole train vanishing, Neville? That's not exactly… small."
Harry leaned back slightly. "Or maybe they don't know what happened. Which… honestly, might be worse."
Neville gave a short nod. "Yeah… that too. Either they're hiding it, or they've got no clue. And both are bad."
He glanced toward Hermione. "Did the article mention if the Obliviators were involved?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, not a word. Which is strange. If the Muggles were panicking, the Obliviation Squad should've stepped in."
Ron let out a snort. "Unless they did, and the Prophet's just leaving it out. Wouldn't want to admit it got that far, would they?"
Before anyone could say more, the doors to the Great Hall creaked open. The chatter died down at once as every student turned to look.
Lucius Malfoy strode in, calm and poised, dressed in sleek black robes with his silver-topped cane in hand. He walked like he owned the place, a smug smirk curling on his lips. Beside him waddled a round, nervous-looking man with thinning hair and a bowler hat.
Students began whispering across the Hall as they watched the pair make their way towards the staff table.
Neville's eyes narrowed. He recognized the second man from photos in the Prophet.
Hermione leaned closer, voice low. "Isn't that the Minister for Magic?"
Ron gave a stiff nod. "Yeah. That's Dad's boss. Cornelius Fudge."
Harry frowned. "What's he doing here with Malfoy?"
Neville didn't answer at first. His attention had shifted to Hagrid at the staff table. The gamekeeper looked like he was shrinking into his seat, face pale, eyes darting between the door and the exit behind him.
'He knows what's coming,' Neville thought.
Dumbledore had risen from his seat, descending from the high table with calm purpose. He met the pair halfway across the Hall.
"Ah, gentlemen," Dumbledore said, polite but firm. "Might we continue this discussion somewhere more private? My office, perhaps?"
Fudge looked almost relieved. "Yes, yes, that would be best—"
Lucius waved a gloved hand as if brushing off an unimportant suggestion. "That won't be necessary, Dumbledore," he drawled, voice calm and oily. "The Minister and I are here on official business. No need for hushed tones."
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed slightly. "I see," he said calmly. "Then, might I ask what this is about?"
Fudge cleared his throat, fumbling with his bowler hat. "It's… regarding Rubeus Hagrid."
Dumbledore's expression didn't change. He simply turned his head and called out, "Hagrid, if you'd join us for a moment."
Hagrid stiffened further. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood. He walked slowly toward them, shoulders hunched. With a flick of Dumbledore's wand, a sound barrier was erected around the group.
Instantly, the Hall erupted into hushed chatter, students leaning toward one another with wide eyes.
Hermione, looking worried, looked at the three and asked, "What do you think they want with Hagrid? You don't think… they're here for Hagrid, do you?"
Harry nodded, watching the group intently. "Yeah. That's exactly why they're here."
Hermione bit her lip. "But... there aren't any Aurors with them."
Ron grunted. "He doesn't need 'em. He's the ruddy Minister. He can do what he likes."
Neville kept his eyes on the scene unfolding before them. "I think he wants Hagrid to come willingly. Less noise. Less mess."
He leaned forward a bit, lowering his voice. "I don't think even Fudge believes it's Hagrid. He's just doing this so it looks like the Ministry's doing something about the Chamber of Secrets."
Hermione's expression turned thoughtful. "You think he's trying to calm the public?"
Neville shook his head. "No... remember what my gran said? They've been keeping the whole thing quiet. Hardly anyone outside Hogwarts even knows what's really goin' on. It's not about the public—it's about the people who do know. The Board of Governors, maybe some folks at the Ministry. When this finally gets out, they can say, 'See? We acted.' Makes it look like they've done something."
Neville gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. "And besides… calling Hagrid the Heir of Slytherin? That's mad. Wouldn't that go against everything Voldemort and his lot stood for?"
Harry looked over at him, brow furrowed. "You mean… 'cause Hagrid's half-giant?"
Neville nodded. "Yeah. Doesn't exactly line up with their 'pure-blood only' nonsense, does it?"
Hermione let out a soft breath, her expression tight. "They must know that, too. But I suppose it doesn't matter, not when they're just looking for someone to blame."
Down by the staff table, they watched Hagrid's shoulders sag as he gave a small, resigned nod.
Cornelius Fudge looked visibly relieved, adjusting his bowler hat and exhaling through his nose. Dumbledore leaned in, placing a hand gently on Hagrid's shoulder. He murmured something quietly — no one could hear it — and then, with a flick of his wand, the shimmering sound barrier dropped.
The murmur of the Great Hall faded to a hush again.
"Very well, Cornelius, I—" Dumbledore began, voice calm, but he didn't get far.
Lucius' voice slicing through the Hall. "Ah, I'm afraid there's one more matter we're here for, Headmaster."
Fudge turned, clearly caught off guard. "One more matter? What are you talking about, Lucius?"
Lucius adopted a look of innocent surprise, though the smug glint in his eyes betrayed him. "Oh, not a Ministry concern, Minister. This is between the Board of Governors and Professor Dumbledore."
Dumbledore's gaze shifted to Malfoy, unreadable. "And what exactly is it that you want with me, Lucius?"
Lucius smiled as if discussing the weather. "Dreadful thing, Dumbledore," he said lazily. He reached into his robes and drew out a rolled parchment, holding it out with a deliberate flourish. "But the governors feel it's time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension — you'll find all twelve signatures there, I assure you."
He paused just long enough for the silence to grow uncomfortable.
"I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? One just a few days ago, wasn't it? At this rate, there'll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts. And we all know what a dreadful loss that would be to the school."
The words dripped with false concern, and his smirk never faded.
A wave of murmurs rolled through the Great Hall. Shock. Confusion. Outrage. Whispers flew from table to table as students twisted in their seats, eyes wide and voices hushed.
Neville raised an eyebrow, suspicion prickling at the back of his neck. 'All twelve signatures?' he thought, eyes narrowing slightly. 'How did he get Gran's?' He doubted Augusta Longbottom, who practically despised Lucius Malfoy, would ever sign something with his name on it — especially after the scene at the platform earlier that school year. No, something about this wasn't right. Neville frowned, his mind ticking.
Fudge looked increasingly flustered. "Oh, now, see here, Lucius," he said, voice shaking slightly, "Dumbledore suspended? No, no… that's the last thing we want right now—"
"The appointment or suspension of the Headmaster is a matter for the Board of Governors, Minister," Malfoy interrupted smoothly, not even sparing him a glance. "And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks…"
"Now look, Lucius," Fudge said, mopping his brow with a handkerchief, "if Dumbledore can't stop them— I mean to say, who can?"
"That," Malfoy said with a tight, cold smile, "remains to be seen. But as all twelve of us have voted—"
"Lucius Malfoy."
The voice cut through the rising noise like a whip. All eyes turned to the voice in question.
Professor McGonagall strode towards them, her face pale but furious, her voice clipped and sharp. "This is nothing short of a disgrace. You dare strut in here, disrupting the school, undermining the Headmaster in front of the students!"
Lucius raised a brow coolly. "I assure you, Professor, the Board of Governors has every right—"
"You and your Board should be ashamed of yourselves," she snapped. "Dumbledore's done more to protect this school than the lot of you combined have done in your entire lives."
"Minerva," Dumbledore said gently, placing a hand on her arm. "Please. It's quite alright."
"But Albus—!" she started, voice trembling ever so slightly.
"How many did yeh have ter threaten an' blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?" Hadgrid shouted, voice booming through the Hall.
Lucius didn't flinch. "Dear, dear… that temper of yours, Hagrid. You really ought to watch it. The guards at Azkaban won't be nearly as tolerant."
"You can't take Dumbledore!" Hagrid roared, voice shaking the very air. "Take him away, an' the Muggle-borns won't stand a chance! There'll be killin's next!"
Gasps erupted across the hall.
"Calm yourself, Hagrid," Dumbledore said sharply, though his tone remained gentle. He stepped forward then, turning to face Lucius Malfoy fully, his expression calm but firm.
"If the governors truly wish for my removal, Lucius," he said evenly, "then I shall, of course, step aside."
"But—" Fudge stammered, glancing between them with a look of complete uncertainty. "But—Dumbledore—surely—"
Dumbledore did not acknowledge him. His eyes — bright and piercing — never once left Lucius Malfoy's cold, grey stare.
"However," he continued, voice clear and deliberate, "you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me."
He let the words hang in the air for a moment, then turned his gaze slowly across the hall, sweeping over the students. His eyes landed on Harry — sharp, meaningful.
"And you will also find," Dumbledore said, voice carrying through the hall, "that help will always be given at Hogwarts… to those who ask for it."
Silence.
A hush fell over the Great Hall, thick and tense. Not a soul dared speak.
Lucius gave a slight, mocking bow. His smirk hadn't faded. "Admirable sentiments," he said smoothly. "We shall all miss your—er—highly individual way of running things, Albus. And let us all hope that your successor manages to prevent any... ah… killin's."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel, robes billowing, and walked out of the hall.
Cornelius Fudge stood awkwardly for a second, then gave a weary sigh and adjusted his bowler hat. "Well then... We'll be off as well."
Dumbledore gave Hagrid a soft look, resting a hand on his arm.
"Stay strong, my friend," he said quietly.
Hagrid nodded, blinking hard. Then he looked at McGonagall.
"Mind takin' care of Fang while I'm gone, Professor?" he asked, voice thick.
McGonagall's expression was tight. She gave a small, stiff nod. "Of course. Take care, Hagrid."
Her eyes, though still steely, were glistening slightly.
Hagrid sniffed and lumbered after Fudge, boots thudding against the stone floor.
Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Minerva… might I have a word? Preferably outside."
Still visibly fuming but composed, she gave a curt nod and followed as he strode out with quiet dignity. The heavy doors closed behind them with a final thud.
As the doors clicked shut behind them, the silence in the Great Hall shattered like glass.
Chatter exploded in every direction—whispers, gasps, and frantic voices filling the air.
Ron leaned across the table, face pale. "They just sacked Dumbledore," he muttered. "Now we're really not safe."
Neville, arms crossed, let out a snort. "Like he was doing anything."
Ron shot him a sharp glare. "Oi—he's the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of—"
But Harry cut in, voice quiet but steady. "No… Neville's got a point. We know Dumbledore probably knows what's going on, but he hasn't done much. And Malfoy orchestrated it, and I think his behind the chamber as well."
Neville nodded. Of course, Neville knew that Lucius was the one who gave Tom's diary to someone.
Hermione looked up, her eyes narrowing. "You think he's involved in the Chamber business somehow? That he's helping You-Know-Who?"
Neville shook his head. "Not directly. But yeah—I think he's helped somehow. Maybe even helped Tom possess someone, like how Tom was possessing Quirrell last year."
He leaned in slightly, voice low. "And Gran said he's been the loudest voice on the Board ever since this started. We already know how he feels about Muggle-borns—just look at the way his son acts, it's not hard to guess."
Neville's eyes flicked toward the staff table, then back to the others. "So why would someone like him be so eager to 'help'? I think he knows exactly what's going on… and he's using it to get rid of anyone who stands in his way. Starting with Dumbledore."
Then he turned to Harry. "You saw it, didn't you?"
Harry nodded slowly, frowning. "Yeah. When he said, 'Help will always be given at Hogwarts… to those who ask for it.' He was looking straight at me. He wants me to figure this out… to deal with Tom."
Neville nodded again. "Exactly."
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