Though it did little to lighten Neville’s mood, the remainder of the second term of his second year passed without further incident. The arrival of the Easter break proved to be little of a relief to him when he learned that he had to select at least two new subjects which would be added to his timetable next year. Barely coping as it was with the workload of seven subjects at present, the idea of having two more on top that terrified him. On top of that, the list he’d been given to choose from was full of the most incomprehensible topics. What on earth was Arithmancy, for Merlin’s sake? Ancient Runes: he didn’t even know there were modern runes, let alone ancient ones.
Eventually, he settled on choosing Divination, as he’d overheard someone in the common room saying it was a fairly easy subject, and it sounded fun. For the second choice, he considered Care of Magical Creatures as it might have gone well with Herbology. However, considering all that had happened this year, there was one subject that appealed to him more: Muggle Studies. He still felt woefully ignorant concerning Muggles, and he had a gut feeling that it was important he learn more.
He passed the Easter break quietly at home in Huddlesby, Gran taking the opportunity to fuss around him constantly, having been denied the opportunity over Christmas. When he got back to Hogwarts the first thing he did was to check if Hermione was doing the same subjects, but she seemed to have put in for everything. “I’ll give them a go and see which ones I like,” she said.
Activity at the school seemed to have returned to normal, and few were still concerned about further attacks. Colin Creevey would occasionally come by and discuss the situation with Neville and Hermione, to see if they had any further news or ideas to the culprit, but they had little to discuss. Neville felt Colin only really came by so he could hang around him.
Neville kept the information he had discovered about Hagrid secret from everyone, including Hermione. For one, he didn’t want anyone else finding out about the diary, as he still hoped to recover it. But more than that, he simply couldn’t bring himself to believe that Hagrid was responsible. The more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed. It was far more likely there was some other explanation that he just wasn’t clever enough to see. So he kept silent, watched and waited.
A couple of weeks into the new term, worries over how he was going to pass his Potions end-of-year exam (never mind his Transfiguration one) had pushed themselves to the front of his mind. He had even forced himself to go to the library with Hermione on one or two occasions, though he felt any benefit he had gained was minimal.
On Saturday morning, therefore, when Hermione announced she was going to be spending most of the day in the library, Neville declined to join her. There was a Quidditch match on later, and he wanted to go. After Hermione left, he settled into a chair in the common room. Harry had already gone off to prepare for the match; Neville noticed Ron sitting in a corner by himself, dressed in Gryffindor red and gold, ready to join the crowd for the game.
Neville sat and waited until the common room was all but empty as everyone left, before getting up and leaving himself. On his way down the staircase, however, as he ambled along not paying much attention to anything going on around him, he was passed by someone. He saw a streak of red flash by him. Neville recognised Ginny Weasley, dressed in red like her brother had been. Ginny was something of a puzzle to Neville; he had hardly seen her around in a long time, except occasionally with Ron and Harry. “Hi, Ginny,” he said politely. Ginny stopped and turned.
“I am…”
Neville froze. “Did you just say something?” he asked.
Ginny looked puzzled. “No,” she replied. “Are you all right?”
Neville was not all right. He was sure that for a moment he had heard a voice. A voice he had not heard for a long while. A voice he had hoped he would never hear again. He looked around nervously and strained his ears to hear more, but everything around him was quiet. Had he imagined it? He couldn’t even pinpoint where it had come from, it had been so fast.
He realised Ginny was staring at him, obviously perplexed at his behaviour. “I could have sworn I heard something,” he said. “Are you sure you didn’t hear any sound at all?” Ginny shook her head. “Must have been nothing,” he concluded at last, and smiled. “Are you going to the match? I’m going that way too.”
He walked down to the pitch with Ginny. Although he did his best to try and chat to her, he got the impression that she was embarrassed to be with him, and he was worried that maybe she too suspected him of being the Heir. She said very little, and when they got down to the pitch she took the first opportunity to leave him and join her friends. She left him no closer to solving the puzzle of Ginny Weasley.
Neville had been expecting to meet up with Colin in the stands, but he couldn’t find him, so he took a seat by himself and waited for the game to begin. He sat waiting for what seemed like ages. He was sure the game should have begun by now. Then at last he saw someone striding to the middle of the pitch. It appeared to be Professor McGonagall. She raised her wand and suddenly her voice was amplified across the grounds. “Please listen carefully. This match has been cancelled,” there were loud groans from the stands, “due to, um, an unforeseen incident. I would like to ask you all to return to your Houses immediately. Prefects, please ensure that all students are accounted for and safely returned to the castle. Thank you. One additional thing,” and here her voice seemed to crack for a moment, “would Mr Neville Longbottom please meet me down here immediately.”
A hundred eyes turned to look at Neville and a sinking feeling hit him in his stomach. What had happened now? He didn’t want to wait to find out, to spend any time dreaming up possibilities, so he hurried straight down from the stands. He rushed past children leaving, many of whom stopped to see him pass. He avoided their gaze and rushed on to find McGonagall. When he reached her down by the pitch side he was out of breath and panting. McGonagall looked noticeably upset. “Follow me, Mr Longbottom,” she said.
She led Neville back up to the castle, past all the returning students and up the stairs to the hospital wing. She halted at the door. “I think you should go in first,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.” With trepidation, Neville pushed open the door and entered. Just to the right of the door as he entered he saw the Petrified forms of Penelope Clearwater and next to her the Hufflepuff boy, whose name he had learned was Justin.
To the left however were two new occupants of the ward. A cry of horror choked in Neville’s throat as he saw who they were. Frozen in place, lying on beds next to each other, were Hermione and Colin. The look on Colin’s face would almost have been amusing if it was not for the horror of the situation, his eyes and mouth were wide in an expression of wonder and amazement. The look on Hermione’s face was more one of shock. Her right hand was stretched out in front of her, clenched in a loose fist.
Neville turned back to McGonagall. “They’re not…?”
“No. They’ve been Petrified, same as the others. We found them at the corner of a corridor just outside the library. Mr Creevey was just behind Miss Granger, at her shoulder. She had that in her hand.” She pointed to a small hand mirror lying by the bed. “We don’t know why. Would you like to stay a while?” Neville nodded silently. McGonagall glanced up at a clock. “You can stay for up to forty-five minutes, then I must ask you to return directly to Gryffindor Tower for your own safety. Do you understand?” Neville nodded once more, and McGonagall quietly left.
As soon as she had passed out of the door, Neville collapsed onto the chair between the two beds and began to cry. He buried his head in his hands and wept unstoppably. It was his fault. It was all his fault. He should have spoken up with his information about Hagrid. He should not have ignored the voice he had heard earlier. He had failed. Everything he had done or had tried to do over the year had been worthless. Now he had lost his friends, and he felt he deserved it.
After some minutes, he did not know how long, the tears were just beginning to dry away when, to his surprise, Harry came into the hospital wing. Ron followed in behind him. Harry was still wearing his Quidditch robes. They walked over to Neville. “We’re not supposed to be out of the tower,” said Harry, “but we had to come and see how you were.”
“I’m all right,” lied Neville. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Harry and Ron pulled up chairs for themselves and they sat in silence for a while. Neville tried to pull himself together. Finally he spoke, weakly, to the unhearing Hermione and Colin. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have done more. I could have. I’m so sorry.” He fought the urge to cry again.
“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” said Harry, more in sympathy with Neville, than a need to apologise.
“I’m sorry,” said Ron as well. “I’m really sorry.” Suddenly, and with a last glance at Hermione, he got up and hurried from the room as if he couldn’t bear to stay any longer.
“Where’s he going?” asked Neville, puzzled.
“Search me,” said Harry. “He didn’t really want to come down here in the first place. I guess he doesn’t like hospitals.”
Neville finally felt strong enough to stand. “That’s okay, actually I think I need to talk to you about something. Can I trust you to keep a secret?”
“Of course.”
Neville poured out to Harry in one long stream everything that had happened the past year. The strange voice, the Polyjuice incident, even, and for the first time to anyone, the diary and what it had shown him. It felt a great relief to unburden himself of everything. He couldn’t face all this alone, and Harry was the only person left he could trust to turn to. He kept talking as they left Hermione and Colin behind and went on up to the common room. By the time they had reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, he was finished.
Harry had listened to all he had to say in respectful silence, but Neville could tell he was surprised and shocked, especially about Hagrid. But all he said as they entered the common room was, “Wow Neville, you’re far more adventurous than I gave you credit for.”
The common room was packed, but Neville and Harry found seats. A great number of Gryffindors crowded round them to offer their sympathy to Neville, there was no hint of suspicion or antagonism any more. A short while later, McGonagall entered. She gave a short announcement to the Gryffindors that Neville thought he had heard before. It was strikingly similar to that he had heard Professor Slughorn give to the Slytherins in the memory in Tom Riddle’s diary. It only served reinforce the feeling that history was repeating itself.
After McGonagall left, the students began filtering back to their rooms. Neville remained, as did Harry, who got up and began pacing the room in frustration. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” he muttered.
“There’s nothing you can do,” replied Neville. “Besides, we can’t leave the tower.” But Harry kept pacing. Suddenly though, he appeared to give up and dashed off up the stairs to the dormitory. Neville sat for a while longer, but he didn’t come down again. However, a couple of minutes after he had left, Neville was sure he saw the main door to the common room swing open then closed again, seemingly of its own accord.
A little while later, he went up to his room himself, but Harry wasn’t there. Ron, Seamus and Dean were, and they said Harry had come in, grabbed something from under his bed and gone out again. Confused, Neville undressed and settled down for a much-needed sleep.
“Ron, Neville, everybody, wake up!” Neville blearily opened his eyes. In his half-awake state, his first thought was he must be dreaming, for he could see a lantern floating in mid-air, providing the only light to the dormitory. However he wasn’t, for around him the others were waking and lighting lamps. Suddenly Harry appeared in the middle of the room, a cloak falling from his shoulders. Of course, Neville thought. He’d forgotten Harry owned an invisibility cloak.
“Do you know what time it is, Harry?” moaned Seamus from his bed. “Where have you been?”
Harry was visibly agitated and out of breath. “Dumbledore’s gone!” he exclaimed.
“Gone? What do you mean, gone?” asked Dean.
“He’s been suspended. I went down to Hagrid’s house to talk to him,” here he gave a sideways glance to Neville, “but Dumbledore was there, and Malfoy’s father and… and the Minister for Magic. They’d come to arrest Hagrid.”
“Arrest him?” said Seamus. “What for?”
Harry looked at Neville, who nodded. “They think he’s responsible for the attacks. They’ve taken him to Azkaban.” Everyone exclaimed loud protests at this news, but Harry waited for quiet before continuing. “Then Malfoy’s father said the governors were suspending Dumbledore for failing to stop the attacks. He’s been turfed out of the school. He’s left!” More exclamations of dismay. No one was satisfied until Harry had given a full account of events, and only when he had finished did everyone settle down to sleep again. Neville beckoned Harry over for a private word.
“Did Hagrid tell you anything?” he asked. “Did you find anything out?”
“No,” said Harry. “Everyone arrived before he could say anything. But he said a funny thing on the way out, it must have been for me.”
“What did he say?”
“Follow the spiders.”
“Follow the spiders? What on earth did he mean by that?”
“I don’t know,” said Harry with a shrug, and they both went off at last to bed.
* * *
The next day brought chaos, rumour and counter-rumour to Hogwarts. The students were all led out of Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall in the morning by McGonagall. She announced during breakfast that she would be taking over the Headmaster’s duties, “in the temporary absence of Professor Dumbledore”. All of Hogwarts was on high alert for another attack and a strict watch was kept on all students to make sure they were never out of a staff member’s sight. The arrest of Hagrid, news of which was slowly filtering through the school, had done nothing to lessen the heightened security throughout the castle.
A couple of weeks passed without another attack, but still everybody was nervous. The Gryffindor common room was a moody place of an evening. Fred and George tried to keep everybody’s spirits up, but their brand of humour did not go down well with everyone. Harry, robbed of his usual opportunities to unwind, was a bundle of nervous energy, constantly muttering, “Follow the spiders, follow the spiders, what spiders?” and other similar things.
After lunch one day, Neville went out on to the grass outside the entrance to the castle. Students’ movements were still restricted, but they were allowed outside on to this small area of lawn during the lunch break, where a teacher would always be stationed to watch over them. Today it was Snape, leaning sour-faced against the wall by the great front doors.
Harry was there already, stretched out on the grass, enjoying the late-spring sun. Neville ambled over to him, but stopped when he was a few feet away. “Harry,” he said cautiously, “you’ve got a spider on your shoulder.” Indeed Harry had, and not a small one at that, but Harry opened his eyes without alarm and gently teased the spider off his left shoulder with his right hand.
“There you go,” he said, as the spider softly slid from the back of his hand onto the grass, where it immediately scuttled off, heading away from the castle. Harry turned to look at Neville for a moment, then got up and dashed off after the spider, following it as it raced along.
“POTTER!” exclaimed Snape from behind them, in furious tones. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? Stay where you are this instant!” But Harry ignored him and kept going, further away from the castle. Snape ran past Neville towards him, his cloak billowing behind him. “Potter, if you don’t want to spend the rest of the week in detention, I suggest you stand still now!”
Reluctantly Harry came to a halt. Neville saw him watch the spider disappear away, in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Snape grabbed Harry roughly by the arm and led him back up to where the other students were watching. “I will not stand for your wilful disregard for the rules, Potter,” Snape continued. “Fifteen points from Gryffindor.” He released Harry and returned to his post by the door.
Harry waited until he was out of earshot before sneering at his back and muttering, “Yeah right, Snivellus.” He turned to Neville. “Did you see where that spider was going? Plus there are more out there, I could see them from down there. They’re all going into the Forest.”
Harry was eager and excited; Neville could see where this was going. “No way,” he said. “You can’t go in there.”
“Why not? We can easily sneak out using my cloak.”
Neville did not appreciate the use of “we” in that sentence. “Do you remember what happened the last time we went in there?”
“Of course, but I don’t think Voldemort’s hiding out in the forest any more, Neville.”
Neville winced at the use of the name. “Still, I’m not going. It’s a crazy idea.”
“Come on, Neville. Don’t you want to find out who’s behind it all? Don’t you want to clear Hagrid’s name?” Harry continued pestering Neville for the rest of the day, in class and between classes. Once they were all back in Gryffindor Tower in the evening, Harry immediately began planning to leave. Neville found him in the dormitory, getting out his cloak. “Last chance,” he said. “Are you coming or not?”
“Why don’t you take Ron with you instead?” asked Neville.
“Ron’s got other things to do. Besides, he’s terrified of spiders.”
“I’m not exactly thrilled about them either,” replied Neville. “Especially if they’re the size of a dog and a possible killer.” He’d described the creature he’d seen in Riddle’s memory to Harry before, and he had no particular wish to meet it for real.
Harry pulled out his broomstick and strapped it to his back. “We’ll be perfectly safe under the cloak. Come on, Neville. It’s got to be you. You know it has.”
That was the thing, Neville realised. It always had to be him. That was the price of being Neville Longbottom. He had to go. Reluctantly, he nodded to Harry. He changed into outdoor clothing and together they slipped under the invisibility cloak and made their way down to the common room. They tiptoed past everyone there and snuck out into the castle.
Remembering with embarrassment the first time they had shared this cloak, Neville kept one eye on his feet to make sure he didn’t trip over or tread on the cloak. The broom on Harry’s back kept bumping into him. “Why did you bring that?” he whispered.
“Never know when it might come in handy,” replied Harry. They crept down the great staircase, across the Entrance Hall and out of the castle. Slowly they made their way down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. They held out their wands, lit up with Lumos spells, and cast around for any sight or sign of spiders.
They searched for some time without success, and Neville was regretting with every passing moment agreeing to come, when Harry called over to him. There, in front of Harry on the ground, a whole clutch of spiders were rushing by into the Forest. It was a creepy sight and Neville shuddered a little, but Harry didn’t hesitate and hurried off, running alongside the line of spiders. Neville ran to catch up with him. “Wait,” he said. “Shouldn’t we put the cloak on again?”
“Fine,” said Harry. “But make sure you keep up.” They disappeared under the cloak once more, leaving only their wands poking out to provide light. On they went, further and further into the forest as the evening darkened into night. Neville kept glancing around him, but all was quiet. The spiders around them became more and more numerous and they had to tread carefully around them.
Suddenly up ahead the trees seemed to part to reveal a wide, bowl-shaped clearing. The tiny spiders swarmed around it. Neville and Harry inched closer, their wands outstretched. Huge webs hung from trees about the clearing. When they reached the edge of the clearing, Harry and Neville saw a single, huge web spanning one side. A massive dark form occupied the top of the web. As the light from the wands hit it, it stirred, stretching out gigantic legs across the web.
It hadn’t occurred to Neville until now that in fifty years the spider would have grown. And indeed it had. The span of its legs must have been twenty feet, and its heavy grey body would have dwarfed all but the largest of non-magical creatures. Vast and monstrous it appeared, and Neville’s teeth chattered under the cloak and his wand hand trembled.
The creature moved slowly, its ancient limbs creaking across the web. “Who is it?” it called in an old, dry voice with an eerie hiss. Neville jumped to hear it speak. “Who disturbs my rest, my children?” Suddenly from out of the darkness, forms appeared, from the other side of the clearing or descending from the trees. More spiders, tens, dozens of them, in sizes ranging from that of cats, to that of horses. They clustered around the great spider, bristling, threatening.
Neville was frozen to the spot in fear. This wasn’t what he’d signed on for. Beside him, Harry was breathing hard, but seemed calm. The great spider spoke again. “Hagrid, is that you? My eyesight has faded, I cannot see you.”
To Neville’s astonishment, Harry suddenly threw the cloak off himself and stepped down into the clearing. Keeping his wand outstretched, he replied, “Hagrid’s in trouble. We’re friends of his. We need your help.”
Neville murmured, “Nox,” and stepped down next to Harry, still under the cloak. “What are you doing?” he whispered.
“What we came for,” whispered Harry back. Aloud, he spoke to the spider once more. “Who are you?”
“My name is Aragog, and this is my home. What do you want of me, friend of Hagrid?”
Harry continued, “At the school, they think Hagrid’s opened the Chamber of Secrets again.”
“He did not!” roared Aragog with sudden force. “Hagrid raised me from the egg. He is the only wizard who truly cares for his fellow creatures. He never opened the Chamber before, and he would not do so now.”
“So you are not the monster?” exclaimed Harry. “Hagrid was innocent all along.”
“Yes, he was. Hagrid acquired me from a traveller. He kept me always in a cupboard, so I wouldn’t be found and killed. When he was expelled, I came here. Since then, Hagrid has visited me often. He found me a mate, and I raised my family. For Hagrid’s sake, we have remained here, and have never sought out or harmed your kind.”
“But something is harming us,” said Harry. “There was a monster, there still is. If it wasn’t you that Petrified everyone, that killed that girl fifty years ago, who was it?”
Aragog shifted his great bulk across his web and spoke softly, almost as if to himself. “I hear many things. Many of our brothers and sisters have come to us recently, bearing tales. No, I did not kill that girl. She died in a bathroom on an upper floor, far from where I was kept. No, there is a creature, an ancient monster, feared by all our kind. It stalked the castle all those years ago, and it would seem it stalks it again now. It is evil, and I will speak no more of it.”
“Is there anything more you can tell us, anything at all?” pleaded Harry.
“I do not think so, Hagrid’s friend. It is late, and I am tired, and my children are hungry. It has been good to talk to someone again. Goodbye.” Aragog slid back up his web and curled up once more. Suddenly, as if released, the other giant spiders began to move forward, advancing on Harry and the invisible Neville.
Neville and Harry backed towards the edge of the clearing. “I thought they didn’t attack humans,” whispered Neville.
“Obviously not unless they walk all the way into their home,” replied Harry. “I think we’d better leave now, don’t you?” Neville lifted up the edge of the cloak and Harry dived underneath. For a moment, the spiders paused, confused, and Neville and Harry started to run. They ran as hard as they could, the cloak flapping around them, as best as they could determine in the direction they had come.
There was a rustling behind them and Neville looked back in horror. The spiders were following. Right behind them they were, dozens, and their numbers seemingly kept on multiplying. They covered the ground at incredible speed, and Neville knew they had not a hope of outrunning them. They were seconds away from being caught. “They can see us!” he cried. “They can see our feet! We’re done for.”
“Stop!” yelled Harry back. “Grab my broom, grab my broom!” They skidded to a halt against a huge oak tree and the cloak fell back covering them once more. The children of Aragog stopped running, unable to see their quarry, but whether they could hear the two boys, or otherwise sense them, they continued to enclose slowly on their position, seeking them out. They were almost surrounded.
Neville struggled desperately to detach Harry’s broomstick from his back. He tugged and pulled at straps, almost choking Harry at one point. Suddenly the broom came free in his hands and he staggered back, almost falling from the cloak. Harry seized the broom from his hands and swung it underneath him “Hold on!” he screamed. Neville grabbed hold of Harry’s shoulders for dear life. Harry kicked away from the ground, and the Nimbus Two Thousand burst away into the air, just as the spiders leapt on the place where they had been.
With his hands gripping tight to Harry’s shoulders, his eyes shut, and his legs flailing aimlessly in thin air beneath him, Neville felt them burst upwards through branches and foliage at incredible speed. They exploded out of the canopy of the Forest, and Harry smoothly brought the broom back to the horizontal, screeching and hollering with delight. “Sit down, Neville,” he added at last. “I don’t think my shoulders can take the weight much longer.
Gingerly, Neville felt for the cushioned surface of the broom, and sat. He shifted his grip to Harry’s torso and at last opened his eyes. They were floating gently above the trees in a dark, moonlit sky. The outline of Hogwarts castle glistened in the distance. The invisibility cloak, still draped about them, fluttered in the breeze. Deftly retaining control of the broom with one hand, Harry pulled off the cloak and wrapped it into a ball, which he stuffed under his arm. “Bet you don’t mind flying so much now, eh, Neville?” he laughed.
“Well it beats being eaten,” Neville had to admit. “But could we please get down?” Though his main objection to flying was that he couldn’t do it, he still had no great love for heights. Harry slowly flew the broom back over the forest and they landed in front of the doors of Hogwarts. Neville gratefully felt solid ground beneath his feet again. He looked back to the forest. “What sort of stupid advice was ‘follow the spiders’?” he exclaimed. “Hagrid nearly got us killed!”
“Hey, we’re still here,” said Harry, defending his friend. “And we know now that Hagrid’s innocent and Aragog isn’t the monster.”
“Which puts us back to square one,” Neville pointed out. “What now? Where do we go from here?”
Neville Longbottom and the Chamber of Secrets by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which there is another attack, Hagrid is arrested and Neville makes a perilous journey into the Forbidden Forest.