The Child of the Seventh Month

16. The Heir of Slytherin

Despite the recent tense atmosphere, a Quidditch match between Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had gone ahead and resulted in a crushing loss for the latter. For a while, the attack on Filch's cat went into oblivion as the Gryffindors celebrated their victory.

Meanwhile, Neville's mood had worsened. Not many things were able to make him happy or calm; he felt as if he were carrying a heavy burden wherever he went. May it be guilt, may it be some dark conscience that haunted him ever since Halloween night. He rarely slept, and if he did, nightmares of red eyes turned yellow, snake hisses, and bloodied hands quickly took their hold over him. Through it all there was the only thing able to keep the fear at bay – Tom's soothing presence.

Tom, there were rooster feathers all over my robe and I don't know how they got there.

Neville wrote as he sulked in the corner of the common room while everyone else celebrated. He kept glancing at Hermione, who was sitting next to him, trying to read a book despite the thrumming music. 

"Honestly, they could tone it down a bit," she muttered under her breath, nearly knocking down the mug with Neville's juice that stood on the edge of the table. "Chamber. . . chamber. . ." her finger followed the text on the page as she searched for something.

"What are you reading?" Neville asked and leaned a bit closer.

She showed him the title page of the book. "Hogwarts, A History," she said. "The legend of Chamber of Secrets is in there. All the copies had been taken out of the library, everyone wants to read it. My name's on the waiting list but it would've taken two weeks before I got myself a copy, so Harry gave me this one."

"And where did he get it from?"

Her face reddened. "It’s not stealing if—"

"Hmm?”

"Harry said that Crabbe couldn't read anyways," she told him, glancing away, "and that he was asking for it to be stolen because it was laying on the floor like the rest of his things usually were. We're going to give it back, of course," she added.

"Of course."

Neville sighed and glanced around the common room. There was Ron, chatting animatedly with his twin brothers, and then there was Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor captain, surrounded by admirers, retelling the highlights of the Quidditch match with exaggerated hand gestures. Neville's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he turned back to Hermione.

"Do you think there's anything to those Chamber of Secrets rumors?" he asked, his voice barely audible among the music. “Is it real, or is someone just trying to scare us?”

Hermione paused, her brow furrowing in thought. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "But it's certainly intriguing, isn't it? The idea of a hidden chamber in Hogwarts, and a monster lurking within... It sounds like something out of a dark fairy tale."

Neville nodded, a shiver running down his spine. The mention of a monster only added to his already growing unease. "I just... I can't shake this feeling that something terrible is going to happen," he confessed quietly.

Hermione placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Nothing is going to happen. I mean, the teachers wouldn’t let it, would they? And if Hogwarts were really dangerous, they’d sent us home.”

Neville nodded, but didn’t really feel convinced. Just earlier that day, Seamus had woken up to an owl from his mother, telling him she would pull him out of Hogwarts if Dumbledore allowed any such “pranks” in the future. Neville hoped, for all their sakes, that the culprit would soon be caught.

“I think I’ll be going to bed now,” he grumbled, feeling even more down at the thought. 

“Good idea, Neville,” Hermione said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Get some rest. I’m sure things will look better in the morning.”