It was January 5th when Neville and the rest of the students returned to Hogwarts after Christmas. To his surprise, Neville was actually looking forward to going back, though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was just that life back on Preston Road was far duller than at Hogwarts (though a lot less dangerous). He’d had a good time at home though, and Gran had generally fussed over him for the first few days until he ran out of stories to tell, or at least stories he was prepared to tell Gran.
He’d met Hermione on the train and they’d swapped tales. Hermione, as could be expected, was even keener than Neville to get back to school and start learning again. Back in his room in Gryffindor tower he discovered it was something of a mess, Harry and Ron had stayed over the break and not kept the place particularly tidy. Neville exchanged sullen looks with them, but said nothing, they’d not spoken to each other in several weeks now.
It only took about a week’s lessons, indeed until just after his first class back with Snape, to rid Neville of his brief enthusiasm for life back at Hogwarts. January was a largely miserable month in terms of the weather, and for Neville it wasn’t much better. Hermione now spent even more time engrossed in her studies and Neville was often left to his own devices. He would mope around the common room avoiding everybody else, or sit in his room with Trevor. He took to taking Trevor to classes with him quite often, although several of the other Gryffindors would tease him about it.
One day late in January, Neville found himself down in the library, staring at another book that meant nothing to him. Hermione had recommended it to help him out with Charms, but it might as well have been in a foreign language as far as he was concerned. Actually, since it largely consisted of spell names, most of it was in a foreign language. He gave up, closed the book in disgust with himself and left the library.
But as he rounded the corner outside, barely looking where he was going, he made only two steps before being hit square in the chest with the undeniable thumping force of a spell. Collapsing to the floor, he raised his head to see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle leaning over him. They had obviously been lying in wait for unsuspecting kids to hex. It seemed to be their favourite game at the moment, like the incident before Christmas. “Try running away now, Longbottom,” sneered Malfoy. “Go on, try.”
Neville desperately tried to get up, but he couldn’t. His legs seemed to be fused together. Weakly, he hauled himself into a sitting position and tried to drag himself away. The three Slytherins just watched and laughed. “Not staying to fight then?” said Malfoy. “Tell you what, we’ll all sit down as well. Make it fair, eh?” Neville glared and they all burst into laughter again.
After a while they got bored and left Neville to go bother someone else. Neville crawled over to a statue and managed to pull himself up onto his feet, but his legs were still stuck together. Tired and miserable as anything, he hopped his way out to the staircase leading up to Gryffindor tower. To his disappointment it was deserted. He didn’t really want anybody to see him like this, but it was going to be terrible getting all the way up three floors. Clinging to the banister, Neville dragged himself up step by step.
No one was around to see or help him in the heroic effort he made to get all the way up to the Fat Lady’s painting. He didn’t feel the least heroic, though. Only exhausted, depressed and useless. As the painting swung open, he hopped through the opening and crumpled in a heap on the floor. The common room was packed and everybody at once turned to look at him. He wished he could just crawl into a hole and hide. Trying not to look up, he dragged himself pathetically across the floor.
“Neville, are you alright?” said a voice. It was Hermione, who did her best to lift him up and sit him in a chair. “What happened to you?” Neville tearfully explained. At the mention of Malfoy’s name, several other students gathered round sympathetically. They may not have been friends with Neville, but everybody hated the Slytherins, especially Draco, it seemed. Even Harry and Ron were there, and Ron’s twin brothers, and they were all for busting into the Slytherin common room and cursing Malfoy straight back, before cooler heads prevailed.
Hermione undid the curse on Neville’s legs, and Neville went to slouch off to his room to hide. But Harry of all people stopped him at the staircase. “Hey,” he said, rather uncomfortably but sincerely, “you OK? Look, Malfoy’s a jerk and he’s been brought up to be a vicious git. I know all about him. I’m sorry, alright? Here.” He put his hand in his pocket and passed over a Chocolate Frog to Neville. “Gryffindors should stick together, right? Especially against stinking Slytherin.”
He gave Neville a pat on the shoulder and walked off. Neville went up to his room in a little of a shock. It’d been so long now since he and Hermione had fallen out with Harry and Ron that he’d taken their animosity for granted. Also you couldn’t find a person more different to Neville than Harry, the fun-loving prankster and Quidditch hero, loved by all. Neville had thought he cared about no one but himself and Ron. Maybe he was wrong.
He sat on his bed, opened up the Chocolate Frog and munched on it silently, trying to forget about what had happened with Malfoy. He looked at the card in the box. To his surprise it was Dumbledore. Dumbledore was definitely famous of course, but Neville didn’t know he had a card, he didn’t collect them. Idly he turned it over and read the description on the back. He stopped and stared at it for a moment, and rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He wasn’t. There in black and white amongst Dumbledore’s other distinctions was written
“…and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel”
Flamel! The name they’d been looking for for months! It was at once exciting and infuriating. Neville was about to rush down and tell Hermione about it immediately, but he remembered the common room would still be full of people and he didn’t feel like facing them all again tonight. He would wait until morning.
So it wasn’t until breakfast the next day that Neville told Hermione what he’d discovered. “Alchemy!” she said. “I’ve been looking in all the wrong places. Straight after lessons we’ll go down to the library. Great work, Neville.” Neville enjoyed the compliment so much he declined to mention that he really hadn’t done anything. He spent the rest of the day wondering what they might discover, which meant he didn’t pay attention in Transfiguration and was given a stern talking-to by Professor McGonagall.
In the library that evening Hermione pored over a dozen books on alchemy, while Neville hung around behind her, peering over her shoulder to see if she’d found anything. Finally she gave an exclamation of delight.
“What is it?” said Neville, leaning over to read.
“Sit down, Neville,” said Hermione. “Listen, Nicolas Flamel is the only known maker of the legendary substance known as the Philosopher’s Stone,” she read.
“What’s the Philosopher’s Stone?”
“I was getting to that. The Philosopher’s Stone is the substance most sought after by all alchemists, as it can not only transform base metals into gold, it can be used to produce the Elixir of Life, which if drunk regularly renders one immortal.”
“Immortal? Crikey.”
“Nicolas Flamel, who produced the only successfully made Stone in the late fourteenth century,” continued Hermione “lives quietly in Devon with his wife Perenelle. Both are now well over six hundred years old.” She looked up from the book. “Do you know what this means, Neville? That thing that Dumbledore’s got Hagrid’s dog guarding, it’s the Philosopher’s Stone. The only one there is. Perhaps the most valuable and sought after object in the world.”
“And Snape’s trying to steal it,” said Neville, worried. Snape living forever? The thought didn’t bear thinking about. “We’ve got to stop him,” he said, unexpectedly.
“I think that dog’s doing a better job than either of us could do at the moment,” said Hermione. “I’m sure Dumbledore knows what he’s doing. Besides, Snape’s a teacher. We can’t do anything about him without proof.” Neville nodded. He felt the whole thing had suddenly got far more serious than he had thought.
Neville Longbottom and the Philosopher's Stone by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which Neville has a run-in with Draco and learns of the Philosopher’s Stone.