Hogwarts: Neville's Insert Chapter 105
Neville clicked his tongue softly. "We can't keep skipping classes. One day is fine. More than that raises questions."
Hermione hesitated, then reached under her robes and pulled out a thin gold chain.
Harry blinked. "What's that?"
Hermione held it up. A small hourglass pendant hung from it, sand shimmering faintly inside.
"A Time-Turner," she said quickly. "It lets me go back a few hours. I've been using it to attend multiple classes."
Harry stared at it. "You're joking."
Hermione turned to Neville, narrowing her eyes slightly when she saw his expression.
"You knew I had this, didn't you?"
Neville gave a small, knowing smirk. "I had a hunch. I didn't actually think they'd give a third year something that could completely unravel space and time if misused. Sometimes I think Hogwarts can't get more reckless… and then they surprise me."
Hermione rolled her eyes faintly, though there was a flicker of pride there too.
"With this," she continued, slipping into problem-solving mode, "we can take turns monitoring the potion. Brew in cycles. Go back in time, attend classes, then return to check on it. No one has to miss anything."
Harry and Neville exchanged a look. Then they both nodded.
…
Tuesday, 16th November 1993 – Inside The Nab-Sack
Neville climbed down the ladder into the Nab-Sack slowly, his boots landing softly against the wooden platform beneath the entrance hatch.
The inside of the pouch was a wide, open space—nearly five thousand square feet of empty room. Pale walls curved gently upward until they disappeared into a soft, ambient glow. Floating lights drifted high overhead, steady and artificial, bathing everything in an even, shadowless brightness.
The air was cool and still.
To the right of the room, the wooden ladder marked the only section where the ceiling dipped lower, deliberately shaped so he wouldn't misjudge the exit when returning.
Lumina shifted on his shoulder and let out a soft trill.
Neville glanced sideways at her. "I know," he muttered. "You don't have to say it."
She gave another trill, sharper this time.
"Yes, I chose this," Neville said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."
He stepped off the last rung of the ladder and turned toward the centre of the space, beginning the walk toward the lone table set in the middle of the vast room.
Lumina nudged his ear lightly with her beak.
Neville sighed as he adjusted the strap of his sling bag on his shoulder while he walked. "It's not like I've got a better option, do I?" he muttered under his breath. "I need a logical way to prove Sirius is Harry's godfather, and the only way to do that is with Peter. I can't just jump to conclusions without evidence. I already stretched things when I linked Peter to being the Secret Keeper. If Hermione or Harry really think it through, they'll start noticing the gaps. They'll start asking questions. I'm lucky they trusted me and didn't push."
He glanced ahead toward the table in the middle as they drew closer. "I need Harry to want to free Sirius. And if Sirius is free, he can contest custody as Harry's godfather. That's the only real way to get him out from under Dumbledore's thumb."
Lumina gave a low, thoughtful trill, and Neville let out a quiet breath. "So yeah," he added dryly, "this is necessary… even if it's bloody irritating."
Neville grimaced as he reached the table, the sharp, sour smell hitting him immediately. He raised his hand and covered the lower half of his face, nose wrinkling in disgust.
"Merlin's beard…" he muttered.
On top the table lay a cage covered with a cloth the table was otherwise empty, save for a single syringe and a few small potion vials beside it. He'd been using the syringe to feed Peter Sleeping Draught they brewed along with a simple restorative brew they'd modified—something close to the Nutrient Solution Madam Pomfrey used for long-term patients who couldn't eat. He'd copied the idea from the hospital wing and adjusted it for this situation.
The Draught of Living Death would have been the best option. One dose could keep someone in a deep, controlled coma for a long time. But that potion was far beyond them. It was a sixth-year brew, complex and dangerous. If prepared incorrectly, it could easily kill the drinker. They couldn't risk that—not with Peter.
On top of that, they were already brewing Veritaserum. That alone was difficult enough, not to mention highly regulated. They couldn't simply buy either potion without raising serious suspicion.
So they had settled on a strong Sleeping Draught instead. It was safer, easier to manage, and, while it needed to be administered daily, it was far less likely to go wrong. It also meant Neville had full control over Peter's condition—awake or unconscious—whenever he chose.
Neville reached forward and pulled the cloth off the cage.
"You're really not worth all this effort," he said flatly, staring at the unconscious rat bound tightly in glowing ropes from Incarcerous.
His expression twisted as his gaze dropped to the mess near the Rats body. The smell only grew stronger now that the cloth was gone.
He grimaced harder. "Disgusting."
For a moment, he just stood there, clearly debating whether any of this was worth it. Lumina gave a faint, unimpressed trill from his shoulder.
Neville exhaled slowly. For the past week, this had been his routine. Every single day. Measuring the potion. Making sure Peter didn't wake. Making sure he didn't die. Vanishing the waste. Cleaning the cage. Feeding the bastard so he stayed alive long enough to be useful.
It grated on him more than he'd expected.
Not because of the care itself. He'd taken care of Lumina when she'd been small, fragile, and helpless. That had never bothered him.
But this…
This was a grown man. A traitor. A murderer.
And the sheer amount of waste Peter produced was honestly infuriating.
He stared at the rat for another moment, jaw tight.
"Fuck it," he said flatly. "I'm done dealing with this." making up his mind. he pulled out his wand
Neville flicked his wand sharply."evanesco" The mess vanished. Another flick followed. "Scourgify." The cage cleaned itself in seconds.
Neville then flicked his wand unlocking the cage and opening the cages door
Neville used wandless magic to levitate the unconscious rat out of the cage, keeping the small body suspended in the air beside him. He then grabbed the empty cage, carried it a short distance away from the table, and set it down on the floor.
Stepping back, he flicked his wand again., The metal structure expanded smoothly, growing until it was large enough to hold a full-grown person.
Neville rummaged through his sling bag and pulled something out. He walked into the enlarged cage, knelt, and placed the shrunken object carefully in the middle before stepping back. After creating a bit of distance, he raised his wand and flicked muttering, "Engorgio."
The object expanded instantly.
It became a large, reinforced chair—something between a dentist's chair and a restraint seat, complete with a leaning headrest. Thick straps hung from the armrests, headrest, and footrests, clearly designed to lock wrists, ankles, and the head firmly in place. The structure was solid, the wood transfigured and strengthened, layered with an Unbreakable Charm and a permanence enchantment to ensure the transformation would not fail.
then pointed his wand at the legs. With another flick, a sticking charm settled over the base, anchoring the chair firmly to the floor so it wouldn't topple if Peter struggled.
All the while, Peter remained floating beside him, held steadily in place by Neville's wandless levitation and kept deliberately at arm's length.
Neville turned his attention back to the rat and levitated him closer to the chair as he stepped back. With another precise flick, he undid the ropes binding the small body.
Then he aimed his wand at the rat and muttered. "Humanus Revertere."
The transformation was immediate.
The rat stretched and twisted in midair, limbs lengthening, fur receding, bones reshaping with a sickening series of soft cracks. A moment later, Peter Pettigrew hung there in his human form, dressed in worn wizarding clothes—a shabby shirt, trousers, and a suit vest that looked like it had once tried to be respectable.
Neville's expression shifted to open disgust.
Even as a man, Peter carried the look of the rat. His face was soft and slack, eyes bulging slightly, teeth too large, posture weak and cringing even in unconsciousness. Years in animal form had left their mark.
"Merlin," Neville muttered. "You look worse like this."
Still holding Peter in place with wandless magic, Neville kept his wand trained on him, ready in case the man woke and tried anything. He stepped closer and lowered Peter carefully onto the chair.
Using the levitation charm to position the limp body properly, adjusting his arms and shoulders.
Then Neville flicked his wand. "Incarcerous."
The straps snapped tight, binding Peter's wrists to the armrests. Neville repeated the spell, securing his ankles to the footrest. Another flick followed, and the strap on the headrest locked his head firmly in place.
Neville lowered his wand slightly, studying the setup.
Neville lowered his wand and muttered, "Now it'll be much easier like this."
He reached into his sling bag and pulled out two small vials—one containing a sleeping draught, the other his modified nutrient potion. Walking to Peter's side, he uncorked the first with his teeth. Using a subtle grip of magic, he held Peter's jaw steady before pouring the potion into his mouth.
At the same time, he cast the feeding charm Madam Pomfrey had shown him after he'd asked, claiming it was for emergencies. The spell forced the unconscious man to swallow, ensuring the potion went down properly without choking.
He repeated the process with the second potion, then stepped back, corking the vails back,
"See?" he said to Lumina, tone dry. "Much easier. It took forever feeding the bastard with that syringe." He slipped the empty potion vials back into his bag.
Lumina gave a soft trill, tilting her head.
Neville frowned. "What?"
She trilled again, more pointed this time.
Neville froze.
"…Oh. For Merlin's sake." He smacked his forehead lightly. "Why didn't I think of that?"
He looked at Lumina, exasperated. "And why didn't you tell me before I undid the transformation?"
Lumina made a very unimpressed sound and gave a small shrug of her wings, as if to say I assumed you'd thought of it.
"Yes, thank you," Neville said flatly. "Very helpful."
He stared at Peter for a few seconds, irritation clear on his face. "Right. I really didn't want to do this, but there's no way in hell I'm cleaning up after him. Now he's human again."
Neville sighed and raised his voice slightly. "Tinky."
With a soft pop, the small house-elf appeared inside the cage, large eyes blinking as she took in the scene.
"Master Nevy?" she said quickly, bowing.
Neville looked at the elf and asked, "Tinky, can you do me a favour?"
The small house-elf bobbed her head enthusiastically. "Of course, Master Nevy. What can Tinky do for you?"
Neville gestured toward Peter. "This man is a prisoner. He's actually one of Voldemort's followers."
Tinky's eyes widened at once. "The Dark Lord's follower?"
Neville nodded. "I need you to keep him clean. Use magic. Just clean him and make sure this place stays clean. He is extremely dangerous. He's killed twelve people before, so please do not wake him or free him. If he wakes up, stun him and keep him unconscious at all times. If anything happens, you tell me immediately. Can you do that for me, Tinky?"
Tinky's eyes were still wide, but she nodded firmly. "Yes. Tinky can do that, Master Nevy."
"And Tinky," Neville added, his voice turning more serious, "this must stay secret. Don't tell anyone. Not even Gran. Can you promise me that?"
"Tinky will not tell," she said without hesitation.
Neville nodded, then reached down and patted her gently on the head. "Good. You can go now. Just clean him up every day."
Tinky bobbed again and vanished with a soft pop.
"Well, that takes care of that," Neville exhaled as he turned back to Peter. "Now… might as well see what you've been hiding."
He began patting Peter down methodically, checking every pocket. The first robe pocket was empty. The second held nothing useful. When he reached the trouser pocket, his expression twisted in disgust.
"What the hell—" He pulled out something damp and moulded that he did not even want to identify. His face tightened immediately. before dropping the object aside.
"Bloody disgusting." He flicked his fingers, casting a wandless Scourgify on his hand, clearly irritated.
Then he moved on. When he checked the vest pocket, his fingers brushed against something long and solid.
Neville paused. His eyes narrowed. Slowly, he pulled the object free.
It was a wand. Smooth. Pale. Almost bone-like.
For a moment, Recognition struck. "…Wait." His mind raced. "Isn't this…?" he simply stared at it. "Voldemort's wand."
Neville held it in his hand, turning it slightly as memory after memory surfaced. This was the twin to Harry's wand. The reason Harry had survived in the graveyard. Twin cores. The Priori Incantatem effect. Two wands that could not properly fight one another.
He turned the wand slowly in his hand, eyes narrowing as memory lined up with what he was seeing. "It makes sense he has it," Neville muttered. "If I remember correctly, Peter was the one who returned it to him."
He glanced down at the unconscious man strapped to the chair, his expression growing more thoughtful. "But…" His thoughts shifted quickly. "If I free Sirius using Peter… Voldemort won't get this back."
He fell silent. For several long seconds, he simply stood there, turning the yew wand between his fingers as possibilities began forming in his mind. The earlier irritation drained away, replaced by cold calculation.
"…Then the question is," Neville murmured, "how do I make sure he does?"
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