Neville awoke sweating from yet another dream about giant spiders and reflected that he could now add arachnophobia to his list of problems. It was now four days since he and Harry had ventured into the Forbidden Forest, and returned with more questions than answers. It had taken Neville a day just to get over the initial shock, and though he had tried to forget the whole experience, it was proving difficult.
It wasn’t helped by the fact that the whole incident seemed not to have fazed Harry one bit. He was still his usual energetic, effervescent self. Neville had spotted him the day before giving a grand, detailed account of their “adventure” to Ron, who was looking distinctly uncomfortable as Harry described Aragog and his brood. Indeed, when Neville got down to breakfast, he saw Ron at the table still looking somewhat agitated and unsettled.
Harry, it seemed, was not one, when presented with a challenge, to give up on it lightly. He still held out hope of uncovering the identity of the Heir, and appeared to have decided that he and Neville were chief investigators into the mystery. His energy made Neville regret he had not brought him in on what he knew earlier, before Hermione and Colin were attacked.
Good news was brewing on that score, though. Neville had been down working with the Mandrakes again the day before, and Professor Sprout had told him they were now almost fully mature and they could begin brewing the restoring potion within hours. By tomorrow or the next day, Neville hoped, Hermione, Colin and the others would be back with them, and maybe finally they would get some answers. The Great Hall was buzzing with the news that morning, and many a prediction was being made on what the victims would reveal.
Neville had not been to visit Hermione since the day of the attack, though he had passed nearby the hospital wing on several occasions, moving between classes. Since everyone was being chaperoned between classrooms, it was impossible to get away. That afternoon however, as they were being led from a Transfiguration lesson to History of Magic by Professor McGonagall, they passed right by the entrance to the hospital wing, and Neville could not resist sticking his head round the door and taking a look.
McGonagall evidently didn’t notice him, as the History of Magic classroom was only a few doors down and everyone kept going. When Neville looked out into the corridor again, the Gryffindors were all filing into the classroom up ahead and only Harry had stayed behind next to him, curious as to what he was up to. It was only at this point, as the last of their classmates disappeared from view, that McGonagall looked up and noticed them.
“Potter, Longbottom!” she said crossly, hurrying back to them. “What do you think you’re doing? Do keep up.”
“Sorry, Professor,” mumbled Neville. “I just wanted to check up on, well…” He trailed off rather weakly.
The expression on McGonagall’s face changed instantly from one of irritation to one of compassion. “I understand, Mr Longbottom,” she said gently. She had a quick look around to check there was no one else present, then added quietly, “You may have five minutes to visit Miss Granger and Mr Creevey if you wish.”
The concept of McGonagall stretching the rules briefly stunned Neville into silence. “What about our lesson?” he said at last.
“I’m sure Professor Binns won’t notice, uh, mind you missing five minutes. Be sure to go directly to the classroom afterwards, mind.” Before McGonagall could change her mind, Neville and Harry quickly hurried inside.
Hermione and Colin had not moved of course, still lying on their beds in their fixed poses, the blank, unblinking expressions on their faces so difficult and uncomfortable to look at. Neville and Harry took chairs by Hermione’s bed. “Not long now, Hermione, not long now,” said Harry, trying to sound encouraging. “Just hold in there.” Neville didn’t say anything. They couldn’t hear, it was pointless. Besides, there was nothing he felt he could say to them that would make up for the fact that he failed to prevent the attack. He stared silently at the floor.
Hermione’s school bag was lying underneath the bed, apparently left there when she was brought in. Absently, Neville picked it up. It was heavier than usual, and the top of a large, old book was sticking out of the top of it, a book that didn’t look like any of their school textbooks. Curious, Neville pulled it out. It was entitled Magical Predators “ a Naturalist’s Guide by one Irving Stephens. Hermione had stuck a strip of parchment between two pages apparently as a bookmark. Neville flipped the book open to the marker.
The page in question was in the section on reptiles and was headed Basilisk. A pencil drawing of a huge serpent with piercing eyes and vicious fangs protruding from an open mouth dominated the centre of the page. About it were paragraphs of the typically dry text that Neville was used to from library books, and which he found unreadable. He was about to close the book when he noticed that the bookmark parchment was covered in scribbled notes. He instantly recognised Hermione’s handwriting. The notes appeared to consist of two lists.
Pros: Long lifespan. (Food source?) Kills by sight, no marks on victims. Rooster deaths. Snake “ Neville Parselmouth “ accounts for voice.
Cons: None killed, only Petrified. Perhaps no direct sight (was one death in prior attack, according to Malfoy). Reminder: research Petrifaction. How remaining unseen? Possibly using pipes “ Neville said voice came from walls. Spiders? No evidence.
Neville’s jaw dropped open. Hurriedly he scanned through the text for the reference to spiders. Near the bottom he found it: Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it. He looked up at Harry. “Harry, do you know anything about any roosters dying around the castle?”
Harry looked surprised at the question, but answered, “Yeah, Hagrid’s been going on about it for months, something keeps killing them. Didn’t you know?”
“No, I didn’t,” replied Neville. He never bothered to keep up with the general goings-on at Hogwarts, and he was regretting that now. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Merlin, I think she’s got it.” He handed over the book to Harry and showed him what Hermione had discovered.
As he read, Harry got more and more excited. “I think you’re right,” he said when he got to the bottom of the page. “It all fits. That’s why she had the mirror. She must have run into Colin outside the library, but they never got very far. She didn’t know about the spiders, but we do now. Well done Hermione!” He gave the Petrified form of Hermione a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.
“We’ve got to tell McGonagall and the others,” said Neville urgently.
Harry glanced at his watch. “It’ll have to be after classes. Our five minutes is up. Come on.” Neville slipped Magical Predators into his own bag and they left. Almost no one noticed them slipping quietly into the back of Binns’ classroom, not even Binns himself, droning away at his desk. Neville sat at the back while Harry slipped into the seat next to Ron. The lesson seemed to drag on for what seemed like days as Neville itched to get away.
Afterwards they all filed down to the Great Hall for supper. Neville hoped to find McGonagall there, but the only teachers on duty were Lockhart and Snape, and he had no intention of confiding in either of those. The other teachers were no doubt out patrolling the castle, as part of the security measures. Neville and Harry sat together and discussed what they had learned and what to do next.
It was only when they finished eating that Harry realised Ron was missing. He wasn’t sitting anywhere on the Gryffindor table. He and Harry had left Binns’ classroom together, Harry said, but then he’d fallen in to talk to Neville and nothing had been seen of him since. “He probably just went to the bathroom,” said Neville, but Harry looked worried.
“He knows we’re not supposed to wander off. I’m going to go look for him.”
“You’re not supposed to go wandering off either,” Neville reminded him.
“We’ll be fine. We know what we’re supposed to be looking out for, anyway. Come on.” Once again, Neville felt that Harry was roping him into something, but reluctantly agreed. They waited until Lockhart was distracted (which wasn’t too long), then slipped out of the Great Hall. Neither of them noticed the young girl who slipped out just after them.
They checked the nearest bathroom, and the route they had come down from History of Magic, but there was no sign of Ron. Neville suggested going up to Gryffindor Tower as he might have gone back there, but Harry said, “I’ve a quicker way.” They stepped into a disused classroom. Harry reached into his bag and took out what looked like a piece of parchment. “Er, Neville,” he said. “This may sound odd, but for, um, security reasons would you mind turning around and putting your fingers in your ears?” Puzzled, Neville did as he was told. He half heard a rustling sound and Harry muttering something.
When he turned back, he found Harry had folded out the parchment onto a table, however now it was covered with markings. Looking closer, over Harry’s shoulder, he could see that the markings were of corridors and rooms. Here and there, little dots moved about between the rooms, each with a name written in tiny lettering above them. “This is Hogwarts,” he said, astonished.
“Yeah,” Harry grinned. “It’s a map. Technically I’m not supposed to show you it, so forget you ever saw it, okay? It shows everyone in Hogwarts, wherever they are. Look, there’s Flitwick patrolling the fifth floor, and there’s Filch on the fourth. It’s been so useful, this map. You can have great fun with it.” Neville didn’t doubt. He wondered what Harry might have been up to with this map at times. “Anyway,” Harry continued. “Ron has to be here somewhere. All we’ve got to do is find him.”
They scanned the map for ages, but there was no sign of Ron anywhere. It was very difficult to locate anyone on the map though, if you didn’t know where to begin looking. “He’s probably just next door after all this,” laughed Harry, and located themselves on the map. “That’s strange,” he muttered. Suddenly he quickly folded the map up, stuffed it away and put a finger to his lips to silence Neville. He stepped quietly over to the open door, then stuck his head outside and shouted “Boo!” Neville heard a sudden yelp of surprise.
He followed Harry to the door and they stepped outside. Standing in the corridor was none other than Ginny Weasley, with a slightly sheepish look on her face. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were following me around, Ginny. What are you doing here?” demanded Harry.
“I could ask you the same thing,” replied Ginny defiantly. “I saw you sneaking out of the Great Hall. What are you up to?”
“We’re looking for Ron. You don’t know where he is, do you?” Ginny shook her head. “Fine. We’re going to keep looking, you should go back.”
“Why should I?” argued Ginny. “You never let me in on anything. I can help you stay and look as well.” She gave Harry an angry, determined look, a look that wouldn’t take no for an answer. Neville reflected on yet another piece in the puzzle of Ginny Weasley.
Reluctantly, Harry said, “Okay. But stick with us, right? Last thing we need is someone else wandering off and…”
Suddenly at that moment, a voice boomed through the corridors of Hogwarts. The distinctive clipped tones of Professor McGonagall were amplified throughout the castle, so that all heard them. “Your attention please. Would all students please return to their Houses immediately, without delay. All teachers please report directly to the staff room.” Neville, Harry and Ginny stared at each other. From below they heard the loud hubbub of rushing people. Harry set off at a run, but not in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. He was heading back down to the ground floor, where the staff room was. Neville and Ginny hurried after him.
They skidded to a halt in front of the staff room door, Harry a few yards ahead. The door was ajar and raised voices could be heard. They waited outside and listened. Neville recognised Snape’s gruff voice. “…or are you saying you’re not up to it, Gilderoy? Only you know where the entrance is, so you say.”
“Yes, yes,” Lockhart replied. “Of course I’ll go. Let me just go prepare, and I promise I will bring back the boy.” Suddenly he appeared at the door. He appeared not to notice the three children, but dashed past and up the stairs, in a terrible hurry.
Neville, Harry and Ginny leaned closer to listen as Flitwick spoke up, “Surely you know he isn’t capable of rescuing him, Minerva?”
“None of us is, Filius,” replied McGonagall sadly. “If Ron Weasley really has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets as the message said, then the reputation of Gilderoy Lockhart may be his only hope.”
McGonagall’s words seemed to hit Harry as if he had been physically punched. “Ron, no!” he gasped, and staggered backwards a couple of steps. As Neville went to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, he looked up at Neville with a fierce expression of determination on his face. “Lockhart,” he said. “Come on.” Before Neville had a chance to react or think about what was happening, Harry charged off again, back up the stairs, and Neville and Ginny followed.
Neville realised he was heading in the direction of Lockhart’s office. “We can help him, tell him what we know,” Harry called back to him as he raced along. Harry burst into Lockhart’s office at speed. “Professor!” he yelled, but then stopped dead, and Neville and Ginny nearly ran into the back of him.
An open trunk lay in the centre of Lockhart’s office. Lockhart himself had paused obviously in the middle of stuffing his most precious possessions (that is, his books and portraits) into the trunk. He looked up at Harry nervously. “Where do you think you’re going?” Harry snapped.
“Er, unavoidable call, must leave as fast as possible, no time,” stammered Lockhart.
“But you’re supposed to be rescuing Ron!” Harry’s voice was becoming angrier and angrier.
“Ah. Well, you see, the thing about that is, I’m not sure what I could really do, you see…”
“What are you, a coward?”
Lockhart seemed to bristle at that description. He drew himself up to his full height. “No I most certainly am not. But I am fully aware of the limits of my capabilities, and they certainly do not extend to taking on unknown lethal monsters, thank you very much.”
“You are a fraud. I knew it,” said Harry in disgust. “You can’t do anything. You’re a fraud and a liar.”
“Better than being a nobody. Anyway, I am quite skilled in my own field, and if it’s any consolation,” here Lockhart reached into his robes, “you won’t remember any of this.”
Harry’s wand was in his hand and pointed at Lockhart’s neck before Neville could blink. “I wouldn’t try it if I were you,” he said in a cold voice that made Lockhart step back a pace in fear. Neville had never seen Harry act like this. Reluctantly, Lockhart dropped his wand. “Good,” continued Harry, “You’re coming to help us rescue Ron, whether you like it or not. Now take us to the entrance to the Chamber.”
Lockhart just stared at him blankly. “You don’t even know that?” exclaimed Neville. “Now what do we do?”
Harry was slowly regaining his composure, though he kept his wand trained on Lockhart. “It’s okay, maybe we can figure this out. Let’s try to be like Hermione for a second, alright? Let’s think about what we know. The monster’s a basilisk,” Harry ignored Lockhart’s reaction, “it’s moving in the pipes, so it has to get into the plumbing somewhere. Hermione and Creevey were attacked outside the library. Clearwater was in a bathroom up by Ravenclaw Tower. Mrs Norris and Finch-Fletchley were attacked not far from here. Oh, and Aragog said that girl fifty years ago died in a bathroom on an upper floor.”
A realisation hit Neville completely out of the blue, a moment of inspiration of the sort he almost never received. “I know a dead girl in a bathroom,” he said.
* * *
The floor of Myrtle’s bathroom was sopping wet as Neville, Harry and Ginny entered, forcing Lockhart in in front of them. The ghost of the young girl with lank hair and glasses was floating aimlessly above a cubicle, humming to herself. She turned as they entered. “Hey, what are you all doing in here?” she shrieked. “Go away! Leave me alone!” She dived down into the cubicle.
“You’d better ask her, Neville, you know her,” urged Harry.
Cautiously, Neville approached the cubicle. “Er, Myrtle, it’s me, Neville, do you remember me?”
Myrtle stuck her head through the cubicle door. “Oh yes, the naughty boy making Polyjuice potion. What do you want?”
Neville wasn’t quite sure what the right way to phrase his question was. “Um, well, I was wondering, if perhaps, maybe, you wouldn’t mind telling us how you died?”
A gleeful grin spread across Myrtle’s translucent face. “No one’s ever asked me that before,” she said. “It was terrible. Scary. Are you sure you want to know?” She giggled mischievously. Neville nodded. “I was right here, in this very cubicle, crying. Stupid, mean Olive Hornby! Anyway, I heard someone come in. He started making this strange hissing noise, like a made-up language, but I knew it was a boy, and boys aren’t supposed to come in here. So I pushed open this door and stuck my head out like this,” her shoulders now emerged from the cubicle and she leaned to the left, facing the sinks, “to tell him to go away, and then I died.”
“Died of what?”
“I don’t know. All I saw were two bright yellow lights like eyes, and I was dead at once. But I wanted to stay, to make sure some people got what was coming to them. So I did, and here I am.”
Half keeping a watch on Lockhart, Harry dashed over to the sinks Myrtle had been looking at. He looked them over carefully. Suddenly he exclaimed, “Neville, take a look at this!” Neville dashed over. Harry was pointing to one of the taps. There, engraved in its side, was a tiny snake, the emblem of Slytherin itself. Neville tried the tap. It wouldn’t budge. “Parseltongue!” exclaimed Harry. “You heard Myrtle; that’s why the Heir can open it, of course. You’re the Parselmouth, Neville. Tell it to open!”
Neville hadn’t a clue if he could just produce Parseltongue on request, but he stared at the tiny engraved snake and tried to imagine it was real. “Open,” he whispered. “Open up.” To his astonishment the tap began to glow, first dimly, then brighter. It slowly rotated clockwise a full rotation and Neville heard a heavy clunk. Then suddenly the sink began to descend, vanishing into the stone floor. In the gap revealed in the wall was a huge, wide pipe, disappearing into darkness. The five occupants of the room stared at it, open mouthed. They had found the entrance.
“Right,” said Harry, firmly taking charge. “Professor, you go first. Neville and I will follow. Ginny, you wait here until we get back.”
“No!” Ginny’s voice was strident, it took Neville completely by surprise. She had hardly spoken since McGonagall’s announcement, and they hadn’t paid her much attention as they dashed about. “I’m coming too.”
Harry turned to her. “Look, Ginny, you’re only…”
“DON’T YOU DARE SAY I’M ONLY A GIRL!” yelled Ginny furiously. “Don’t you dare! You’re always ignoring me, you never let me in on anything you do, none of you! I can do just as much as anyone else! He’s my brother, and I’m coming.”
Harry looked chastened. “I was going to say, you’re only eleven,” he said weakly.
“So what? You’re only twelve. Neville was only eleven last year, and he fought You-Know-Who.”
“It wasn’t quite like that…” Neville began, but Ginny wasn’t listening. She dived past Harry and leapt down the pipe before anyone could stop her. “Ginny!” Harry yelled, but there was no reply. “Right,” he said, turning on Lockhart. “You go in after her, now.” He jabbed Lockhart with his wand and forced the terrified wizard forward and down the pipe. Without hesitating, he followed him in. Neville dived straight in after him, before he could change his mind.
The pipe was wet and Neville slid down at great speed. Suddenly the floor dropped away and he fell hard onto a sharp, brittle surface. He rolled over slightly and bumped into Harry, who was struggling to his feet. It was dark, dim and damp. Harry lit up his wand, revealing Ginny and Lockhart scrabbling about on the ground. They were in a wide cavern or tunnel, fading off into darkness, so the walls could barely be seen. Lockhart looked down at his robes in disgust and began brushing himself down. “I’m filthy!” he moaned. “These are my second-best robes, they’re ruined!” He took a comb from an inside pocket and tried to smooth out his hair.
Neville got to his feet and looked down to see what he’d landed on. He immediately wished he hadn’t. The ground was littered with bones and more unpleasant looking remains of small creatures. This was the detritus of the basilisk. Nervously he looked around, but there was no sign or sound of movement.
“Come on!” yelled Harry. “Hopefully we’ll miss it, but remember you can’t look at the basilisk. Avoid its eyes.”
“Great,” moaned Lockhart. “You expect me to take on a murderous monster without a wand, and I can’t even look at it. Just glad I know where I stand.” Everyone ignored him and rushed forward down the tunnel. He hesitated for a moment, then as the darkness closed in behind him, he hurried after them.
The tunnel became rough-hewn and rocky and they scrambled forward, half on their hands. Feeling for a handhold in the dim light, Neville touched something sticky and leathery. His hand recoiled in horror and he quickly lit his own wand to see what it was. The light fell on what looked like a giant silver mesh, winding its way over the rocks. It coiled and twisted like a great length of string, perhaps fifty feet in length. Ginny and Lockhart scrambled nearer for a closer look. Ginny reached out and ran her hand over the mesh. “It’s skin,” she said in wonder. “One giant snake skin.”
“Incredible,” said Lockhart. “Let me see.” He leaned over Ginny’s shoulder. All of a sudden, before anyone could react, his hand came down on Ginny’s right wrist and he prised her wand from her hand. He leapt to his feet, wildly pointing at each of them, as Ginny scrabbled backwards away from him, in Neville’s direction. “I think this little adventure has gone far enough, children,” he snarled, fear and malice in his eyes. He tilted his head to one side, as if considering something. “Yes, I think the death of your friend would be enough to drive you each out of your mind. Who knows, I may yet be commended for rescuing you from a worse fate. You first, dear,” he said, pointing the wand at Ginny. “This won’t hurt a bit. Ob-”
“Stupefy!” cried Harry. A red jet of light burst from his wand and struck Lockhart full in the chest. The spell flung Lockhart backwards against the hard stone wall of the tunnel and he went down. The tunnel shook slightly, as if from an earth tremor, then a ton of rocks collapsed down just in front of Neville. He flung himself to the ground, covering his head until the crashing ceased.
It was all dark again. Neville got to his feet and relit his wand. Ginny was there in front of him, brushing herself down but apparently unharmed. Behind a wall of rocks obscured his view. Of Harry and Lockhart there was no sign.
“Harry!” yelled Ginny, scrambling up the rocks. “Harry, are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” came Harry’s voice from behind the rocks. “That was bit spectacular, wasn’t it? Came right down in front of me.”
“Where on earth did you learn a spell like that?” Ginny was angry, but also curious.
“Fred and George.” Ginny rolled her eyes, she was not surprised. “Never used it for real before,” Harry continued. “I didn’t know it would do that.” There was a tone of what almost sounded like pride in Harry’s voice.
“What about Lockhart?”
There was a pause. “He’s out cold, but he seems all right,” came the response at last.
“Can you get through?” asked Neville.
“I don’t think so. Not without moving all these rocks and that could take ages. You’ll have to go on get Ron. And hurry, we’ve wasted too much time already. I’ll clear a way so we can get back. Go on!”
Neville turned and looked on down the passage. He remembered standing in a similar situation, one year ago. Somehow it had seemed easier to go on then than it did now. Then he thought of Ron, and he remembered Hermione and Colin, and all the mistakes he had made. No one else should have to suffer for his failures. It was time to set things right. He took a deep breath. “Are you still coming?” he asked Ginny. “You’ve lost your wand.”
“Of course I’m coming,” Ginny replied. “I’ll be right behind you, Neville. Lead the way.” They set off into the dark.
Neville Longbottom and the Chamber of Secrets by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which Neville learns the identity of the Monster of Slytherin and enters the Chamber of Secrets on a rescue mission.