Minerva McGonagall collapsed into her chair in her office and took a deep breath. “All right, let me see if I have this correct,” she said finally, staring at the nervous looking three boys and a girl standing in front of the desk. “You somehow discovered the entrance to the Chamber, you abducted Professor Lockhart…” She indicated the collapsed unconscious form slumped against her wall.
“More like persuaded…” interjected Harry.
“Please do not interrupt, Mr Potter. Having decided to enter the Chamber, you proceeded to attack and render Professor Lockhart unconscious…”
“In self-defence,” Harry added again. “He was going to…”
“Thank you, Mr Potter,” said McGonagall sternly, raising a hand for quiet. “This then caused a rock fall, leaving Mr Longbottom and Miss Weasley to proceed into the Chamber itself, where you found Mr Weasley and who you claim to be a teenage incarnation of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” She turned the battered diary in front of her over in her hands and observed the deep puncture mark made by the basilisk fang. “This, uh, apparition then summoned a basilisk, which would have killed the both of you had Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix not come to your aid, bearing of all things the Sorting Hat.” She picked up the second of the three items deposited on her desk by the students, followed by the third, a long gleaming sword, stained with blood.
“From within the hat,” she continued, “Miss Weasley drew this sword, which then, between you, you somehow used to kill this basilisk. This done, Mr Longbottom stabbed this diary with a fang of the beast, which had the effect of destroying the apparition, and returning Mr Weasley to consciousness. Professor Dumbledore’s phoenix then kindly bore the four of you, plus the unfortunate Professor Lockhart, out of the Chamber, and now here you stand.” She took another long breath. “Do I have, as the saying goes, the long and the short of it?”
Neville, Harry, Ginny and Ron each nodded silently. None of them would take McGonagall’s eye. McGonagall in return subjected them to a pointed period of silence. “Well,” she said at last, “that is quite a tale. I hope you all understand not only how incredibly lucky you have been, but also how extremely stupid…”
But she was unable to finish her lecture, as she was interrupted by a considerable commotion from the corridor outside her door. Neville heard cries of “Where is he?” and “Is he all right?”, and then suddenly through the door burst Mrs Weasley, at top speed and out of breath. She leapt on Ron and almost smothered him in a massive hug. Behind her bustled in Mr Weasley and, to Neville’s astonishment, none other than the venerable figure of Professor Dumbledore himself.
McGonagall was evidently just as surprised to see Dumbledore as Neville. “Albus!” she exclaimed, getting to her feet.
“Good morning, Minerva,” said Dumbledore, a twinkle in his eye. “I see you have been keeping things nice and quiet in my absence.” He surveyed the scene calmly for a while, the three guilty-looking students, the fourth mobbed by his parents and getting more embarrassed by the minute, the collection of objects on McGonagall’s desk. Fawkes hopped down from where he had been perched on a bookcase, and Dumbledore gave him a gentle pat. Finally his eyes rested on the crumpled form of Lockhart in the corner. “Dear me,” he said with mock severity, “what have we here? I cannot have my teachers lying about in such a manner.” He took out his wand. “Rennervate!”
Lockhart sprang to his feet, looking wildly around him, totally confused. “What…? Where…?” he mumbled. He rubbed his eyes and tried desperately to smooth down his hair again. “Headmaster!” he cried, noticing Dumbledore at last. “These children must be arrested at once!” He waved an accusing finger at Neville, Harry and Ginny. “They are violent hooligans, guilty of abduction, and assault without provocation, and…and… and anything they’ve told you is a lie, a filthy and slanderous lie!”
Dumbledore tutted gently. “My word, I can see that a lot has happened here. Someone I think is going to have to explain things to me.”
McGonagall sighed again. “Very well,” she said wearily. “Once more from the top, Mr Longbottom, if you please.”
* * *
It took a great deal longer to tell the story the second time around, particularly on account of the constant interruptions from Lockhart offering his version of events, and the wails and cries from Mrs Weasley. By the time they had finished, she was alternately hugging Ginny as strongly as she had Ron, and berating her for her reckless behaviour.
Dumbledore had listened quietly to all that had been said, without once interrupting. He stroked his long beard thoughtfully. “Minerva,” he said at last, “perhaps it would be best if you accompany the Weasley family down to the hospital wing, to get young Ronald checked over. Mr Potter, I’m sure you’ll want to go with your friend.” Slowly McGonagall ushered everyone out of the office. Dumbledore went over to her desk, examining the objects there. “Gilderoy, Mr Longbottom, please stay a moment.”
Once the three of them were alone, Dumbledore sat down in McGonagall’s chair and looked up at Neville and Lockhart. “Well, Gilderoy, what am I to do with you?” he said pleasantly. “On the one hand it is patently clear that you have lied your way through this entire school year, were prepared to abandon an innocent boy to certain death, and attempted to attack and deprive one of one our students of their memory.” Lockhart made as if to protest, but one sharp stare from Dumbledore over his half-moon spectacles silenced him. “On the other hand, you have survived the year more or less intact, and Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers are becoming increasingly difficult to find.”
Lockhart briefly brightened at this last remark, but Dumbledore continued. “I really don’t have much choice, do I? Gilderoy, you’re sacked.” Lockhart’s face fell. “Your employment at Hogwarts is hereby terminated, effective the end of this school year. I advise you to go back and finish your packing. Oh, and Gilderoy,” he added, with a mischievous smile, “should I hear any, how shall I put it, misleading accounts of last night’s events emanating from your good self, be assured that the full story of your cowardice and deception here will find its way into the hands of the editors of the Daily Prophet. Please close the door on your way out.”
Lockhart stared angrily at Dumbledore for a moment but, finding no reply to give, he turned and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. Dumbledore did not watch him go. He had picked up Tom Riddle’s diary from the desk in front of him and was looking at it closely, seemingly lost in thought. Neville waited nervously for him to finish, wondering what his fate would be.
At last, Dumbledore put down the book. “Well, Neville,” he said, “and what about you? I hope you are aware that no matter the circumstances, the actions of you and your friends have been very serious, very dangerous, and in several cases flagrantly against this school’s well-established rules. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Neville shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “It all seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” he said weakly.
Dumbledore smiled. “Usually a pretty damning thing to say, Neville, but I believe you.” He glanced down at the diary again. “Tell me Neville, what do you know of Tom Riddle? Not Lord Voldemort, but Tom Riddle as he was, when he attended Hogwarts.”
Neville was surprised at the question. “I-I know he opened the Chamber when he was here, and he framed Hagrid for it. They gave him an award.” Then he remembered something. “But surely you knew him too, sir, you were there at the time, I remember hearing.”
Dumbledore sighed sadly. “Yes, I did know him, Neville. I had the dubious honour of being the first wizard he ever met. I do not lie when I say that, academically, he was the best student I’ve known in all my time at this school. Everyone said he was destined for great things. If only they’d known.” He paused, thoughtful for a moment. “Indeed they did give him that award. I was suspicious, and argued Hagrid’s case, but the evidence was against him and Tom could always be persuasive when he wanted. In hindsight of course, it was obvious what had happened, even though there was never any proof, but the award remained. I think I left it there to remind me of how wrong we can be about someone. Or maybe I’m just getting old and forgot about it.”
Dumbledore smiled to himself. “Either way, it’s high time it was removed,” he continued. “The thing is, we will need something to put in its place. I think a Special Award for Services to the School for you would look good, don’t you?”
“Me?” Neville stammered. “But Ginny did more…”
“Relax Neville, your modesty is commendable. Miss Weasley will also receive the award, as will Mr Potter. You deserve it. You have rid this school of a great danger, and safeguarded the lives of everyone here, not to mention Ron Weasley. This school and I personally owe you a debt of thanks.”
Neville looked downcast. “I don’t deserve it,” he said. “I was frightened. I ran. If it wasn’t for Fawkes…”
“Don’t deserve it? Neville, you can’t believe that. The very fact that Fawkes came to you proves you must have shown me great loyalty, and only a true brave Gryffindor could have pulled this sword from the Sorting Hat.” He lifted the sword from the table to show it to Neville.
“But it was Ginny that did those things,” Neville replied. “I went and hid.”
Dumbledore paused for a moment, looking carefully at Neville. “Take a look at this sword,” he said at length, handing it over. “Just below the hilt.” Neville cautiously took the sword and did as Dumbledore suggested. A name was engraved there: Godric Gryffindor. “Yes, Neville,” nodded Dumbledore. “That was indeed Gryffindor’s own sword that you took up and used to kill Slytherin’s monster. At the final moment, the moment of decision, surely you know you made the right choice? Courage is not about being ignorant of fear, it is about doing the right thing in spite of it.”
Neville was about to reply, when for a second time that morning there was a commotion outside the office. The door flew open and in strode none other than Lucius Malfoy, his face like thunder. Behind him at his feet bobbed a small figure of whom he took no notice. Neville however was astonished to see who it was. It was Dobby.
Dobby looked more frightened and apprehensive than ever. At the sight of Neville he brightened slightly, but kept a worried eye on Malfoy. Neville realised that here was the master he had been so afraid of, the master that treated him so badly. He felt he should have guessed it would be Malfoy, really.
Malfoy glared at Dumbledore, but his voice was calm and composed when he spoke. “I am surprised to see you here, Dumbledore. I was under the impression you were still under suspension.”
“Ah yes, a funny thing that,” said Dumbledore. “It seems that, hearing that an abduction had taken place, the other governors were most enthusiastically insistent on recalling me. It is not for me to explain their wild changes of mood, but I suspect some very strange goings on there. For instance, more than one of them voiced a scurrilous and undoubtedly untrue claim that their families had been threatened to ensure my expulsion in the first place. I found it all most puzzling.”
Dumbledore’s voice was gentle and pleasant, but the undercurrent was obvious even to Neville. The colour of Malfoy’s face brightened to a quite fiery shade of crimson, but he restrained himself once more. “I hear that the crisis has been averted, however,” he said thickly, with a sideways glance at Neville. “Has the culprit been caught?”
“Sadly not, for it appears the culprit was none other than Lord Voldemort,” replied Dumbledore, picking up the diary. “He, or someone associated with his aims, apparently arranged for this old diary of his to fall into the hands of an unsuspecting young boy. It took control of the boy, precipitating the attacks.” He looked over the diary once more, then up at Malfoy again. “Curious, is it not Lucius, that such a treasured and powerful object of Voldemort’s should surface now, even while he himself remains in exile? Let us both hope that it does not happen again.”
Dobby was urgently hopping up and down behind Malfoy, as if desperate to speak, but said nothing. He looked at Neville with a pleading expression. Malfoy, seeking to leave as quickly as possible, gave a curt nod to Dumbledore and, seeing Dobby’s antics, gave him a sharp kick which propelled him towards the door. Dobby whimpered and hobbled along behind Malfoy as he exited, throwing a mournful glance back towards Neville as he did so.
As soon as they had gone, Neville turned back to Dumbledore. “Do you really think he was responsible, sir? It sounded like it.”
“Oh, it’s not for me to go around accusing respectable pillars of society like Lucius Malfoy, especially without any proof. Besides,” he mused, “I cannot think of what opportunity he could have had.”
Neville thought back to the first time he had met Lucius Malfoy, in a bookshop, months before, and the recollection came to him in a flash. “I can,” he said, and dashed out of the room before Dumbledore could reply. A few seconds later he dashed back in. “Can I take this?” he asked breathlessly, picking up the diary. Dumbledore merely smiled and Neville ran back out again.
It was early morning and the corridors were quiet as Neville raced along and down the stairs after Malfoy. He caught up with him just as he reached the Entrance Hall. “Dobby!” he called, tripping on the last step and sprawling on the floor. Malfoy turned, confused. Neville pulled himself up into a sitting position and tugged off his right shoe. He knocked a small pebble out from inside it and fiddled with the frayed laces.
Malfoy walked back to him, Dobby in tow, and leaned over him. “How do you know the name of my house-elf, boy?” he asked suspiciously. Dobby looked extremely worried.
Neville looked up, still fiddling with his shoelaces. “That’s an interesting story actually, sir. Do you remember the day we first met, in Diagon Alley? You got into a fight. I think you dropped something of yours. I’ve got it here actually. Would you mind holding this for a moment?” He passed his shoe to Malfoy, who took it, puzzled, and clambered to his feet. He reached inside his robes and pulled out the mangled diary, with the puncture hole through its centre. “Here it is,” he said. “You see, I remember Ron Weasley was in that fight, and everyone dropped their books. He must have picked it up by mistake. Or maybe it wasn’t by mistake?”
Malfoy glared contemptuously at Neville and laughed mirthlessly. “I know what you’re trying to say, Longbottom, and you don’t have a shred of proof. Better and cleverer wizards than you have tried to accuse me of worse things, and failed. But what has this got to do with my house-elf?”
“Well sir,” said Neville, praying that this would work, “I bet you’ve been wondering how we managed to defeat the Heir of Slytherin, how we found out what was going on. You see, Dobby here has been feeding us information all year. He’s been telling us everything.”
“NO!” squealed Dobby, shocked. “Don’t tell him, Neville Longbottom! I mean… it’s not like that, master, I promise. Dobby did punish himself!” He backed away from Malfoy, terrified.
“You miserable, nasty, treacherous little creature!” bellowed Malfoy, his rage exploding out of him. He hurled Neville’s shoe at Dobby. It struck the elf in the chest and he was knocked onto his back, his arms wrapped around it. After what seemed an age to Neville, Dobby cautiously got to his feet, his tiny hand still clutching the heel of the shoe, waiting for the next assault from Malfoy.
But before Malfoy could do anything, Neville spoke. “What do you have to say, Dobby?” Dobby just stared at him, nonplussed. “Do you have nothing to say to Mr Malfoy, Dobby? After all, he has just presented you with a shoe.”
Dobby’s huge eyes widened even further. He looked down at the shoe in his hand, then at Neville, then at Malfoy. Malfoy had stormed right up to him, and was about to deliver another hard kick. Suddenly Dobby’s arm shot out in front of him. There was a flash of light and Malfoy was thrown half-way across the Entrance Hall, collapsing against the main door. Dobby stared at his hand, as if it wasn’t attached to his body. He was breathing hard. “Dobby is… Dobby is free?” he stammered. “Free!” He threw his hands in the air, one still thrust inside Neville’s shoe.
Malfoy regained his feet, incoherent with anger. His wand sprang out in his right hand and he stepped forward towards Neville. But Dobby dashed between them, blocking Malfoy’s way, his hand outstretched again. “Dobby is free,” he stated firmly, “and he will not let you near Neville Longbottom.”
For a moment, Malfoy seemed inclined to ignore the warning, but Dobby was unmoving and he relented. “This isn’t over, Longbottom,” he snapped, and turned and walked out.
Dobby stayed still, watching Malfoy until he had gone. Only then did he sink to his knees, hugging the shoe to his chest. Neville walked over to him. “Are you all right?” he asked.
The question only caused Dobby to burst into floods of tears and cling to Neville’s leg. “This is the happiest day of Dobby’s life,” he sobbed. “Dobby is eternally in your debt.”
Neville crouched down and looked into Dobby’s eyes. “You’re not in anyone’s debt, Dobby,” he replied. “Go and live your life. Thank you.”
* * *
Neville spent the rest of the day in a much brighter mood, even though he was hobbling around uncomfortably on one shoe. He felt he had after all achieved one small victory. He was rather embarrassed by the rapturous welcome for him back in the Gryffindor common room, and went straight up to his room for a much-needed sleep, only emerging late on into the afternoon.
He had only been up for a few minutes, fielding questions from Fred and George, who mostly seemed to want to know anything embarrassing he could tell them about Ron and Ginny, when the door to the common room swung open. To Neville’s delight, bounding in through the doorway came Colin Creevey, closely followed by Hermione. The Gryffindors exploded into wild cheers, and Colin in particular lapped up the adulation, quickly finding a group of his classmates and gabbling away to them.
Hermione meanwhile quietly walked over to Neville and gave him a big and embarrassing hug. “Is everyone all right?” he managed to ask eventually.
“Everyone’s fine,” replied Hermione, beaming. “The Mandrake draught worked perfectly. Even Mrs Norris was on her feet straight away, running around. I heard what you all did. I can’t believe it!” The hug for Neville was immediately followed by one for Ginny, then Hermione turned to Harry, who was loitering close by, watching. “So, Potter,” she said. “I hear you can be useful for something after all.”
“My name’s Harry,” he replied with a grin, offering a hand. “Don’t you think it’s about time we stuck to that, Hermione?” Hermione ignored the hand and gave Harry another hug instead, embarrassing the poor boy even more than Neville. “There’s someone else you need to see,” he said once Hermione had let go. Over here.”
Standing alone in the corner of the room was Ron, a wretched look on his face. He wouldn’t meet Hermione’s eye when she came over, instead staring at the floor, his head down, his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. “I never meant… I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Ron,” Hermione said kindly. “They told me what happened. It wasn’t your fault.” But Ron hurried away and dashed off upstairs to his room without a word.
“Leave him be,” advised Harry. “It’s going to take a while for him to get over this. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Everyone assembled in the Great Hall that evening for a celebratory feast marking the end of the crisis and the recovery of the Petrified students. Even Hagrid was there, having been released from Azkaban that very afternoon, cleared of all charges. Neville observed that he seemed a bit shaken and unsure of himself, but generally in good spirits. Harry was particularly delighted to see him.
Ron attended the feast, but stuck close to Harry the whole evening, keeping his head down and staying silent. There were loud cheers from the whole hall when Dumbledore stood up and made his speech, thanking everyone, but the loudest cheer was reserved for when he announced the cancellation of all exams. Only Hermione looked disappointed.
The last weeks of term passed in a blur for Neville, and it seemed like no time at all before he was packing up ready to leave on the Hogwarts Express. They all took carriages to Hogsmeade station, like the one in which he had arrived at Hogwarts with Snape all those months before. Again they were pulled by those strange spectral horses most could not see, and Neville decided not to mention that he could here. They did however serve to remind him of how different he was.
He shared a carriage with Harry and Ron. Ron’s mood had not improved much over the past fortnight and he looked particularly down today. When they reached the station, as Ron loaded his trunk onto the train, Neville took the opportunity to ask how Ron was doing.
“He’s not too bad,” Harry replied. “We’re going to have him over to visit us in the summer, see if we can’t cheer him up, make him feel a little better. I’ll bet by the time we get back here in September, he’ll be back to normal.”
“Good luck,” said Neville. “He still seems pretty upset to me.”
“Oh, he’s just more miserable today because he’s lost his rat. It must have got out of its cage last night, and there was no time to find it this morning. You didn’t see it, did you?”
“Sorry, no,” replied Neville. Instinctively, he checked Trevor was still securely in his own travelling box. “Tell him I’m sorry to hear that. Believe me, I know what it’s like to have pets running off.” He said his goodbyes to Harry and they boarded the train. He found the compartment where Hermione was sitting. “What a year,” he said, taking the seat opposite her. “I mean, I knew school would be tough, but this isn’t what I was thinking of.”
“Maybe next year will be quiet,” smiled Hermione.
“I doubt it. I don’t want to think about next year right now. Time for a rest.” He stretched out on the seat and fell into a doze as the Hogwarts Express gently pulled out of the station.
Neville Longbottom and the Chamber of Secrets by Sonorus
Chapter Notes: In which Dumbledore returns, and the villain behind the plot is revealed.