A Neville SI

A Neville SI Chapter 18

"Maybe so," Neville conceded, "but you have to admit some things don't add up. If the Seeker catches the Snitch in, like, a minute, then the game only lasts a minute. That's just daft—why would anyone pay to watch something that could end as soon as it starts or could drag on indefinitely? And then there's the scoring—ten points for a goal is fine, but a hundred and fifty for catching the Snitch? That diminishes the whole point of scoring goals at all if all it takes to win is catching the Snitch."

Seamus, who was sitting beside Neville, scratched the back of his head. "Well, when you put it like that, Quidditch doesn't make much sense," he admitted. Dean and Hermione nodded, agreeing with Neville.

Ron's ears turned red as he grumbled, "Whatever. You're just not smart enough to understand the beauty of Quidditch."

Neville thought to himself, "Yeah, more like J.K. didn't really think this through," as they continued watching the match. Shrugging, he glanced around, wondering if he could spot the Snitch, not particularly focusing on the rest of the game.

…..

"Slytherin in possession," announced Lee Jordan. "Chaser Pucey dodges two Bludgers, evades both Weasleys and Chaser Bell, and speeds towards the—wait a moment—is that the Snitch?" A ripple of excitement spread through the crowd as Adrian Pucey suddenly dropped the Quaffle.

Just then, Harry dived sharply after something, but—

A roar of fury erupted from the Gryffindors below—Marcus Flint had deliberately blocked Harry, sending his broom spinning off course. Harry clung on for dear life. "Foul!" the Gryffindors shouted in unison. Madam Hooch flew over, her face stern, and reprimanded Flint before awarding a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor. But amidst all the chaos, naturally, the Golden Snitch had vanished from sight once again.

Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was shouting, "Send him off, ref! Red card!" "What are you on about, Dean?" Ron asked, looking confused. "Red card!" Dean repeated passionately. "In football, you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!" "But this isn't football, Dean," Ron reminded him patiently.

Neville chimed in, "That's another reason why it doesn't make sense—there's no serious punishment for fouling a player."

Hagrid nodded in agreement with Neville. "They ought to change the rules. Flint could've knocked Harry clean out of the air."

Lee Jordan was finding it increasingly difficult to remain unbiased. "So—after that blatant and appalling bit of cheating—" "Jordan!" Professor McGonagall growled warningly. "I mean, after that open and revolting foul—" "Jordan, I'm warning you—" "All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker—which could happen to anyone, I'm sure—so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away with no trouble at all, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

Harry dodged a Bludger that whizzed just past his head, but then something happened—his broom gave a sudden, violent lurch. Harry gripped it tightly with both arms and legs.

Neville noticed and thought, "Ah, I remember now, Quirrell tried to kill Harry during this game."

The Slytherins were cheering loudly. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was acting strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

"Don't know what Harry thinks he's playing at," Hagrid mumbled, staring through his binoculars. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he'd lost control of his broom... but he can't have..." Suddenly, people all over the stands were pointing up at Harry. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom gave a wild jerk, and he swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?" Seamus asked, bewildered.

"Can't have," Hagrid said, his voice shaking. "Nothing can interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic—no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand." At these words, Hermione grabbed Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started scanning the crowd frantically.

"What are you doing?" moaned Ron.

"I knew it," Hermione gasped. "Snape—look."

"He's doing something—jinxing the broom," said Hermione.

Neville took the binoculars from Hermione and looked at Snape. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering non-stop under his breath. Looking above him, Neville saw Quirrell also doing the same, only his face looked more focused, with a glare.

The binoculars were snatched away from him by Ron, who looked at Snape and said, "You're right! But what should we do?"

"Leave it to me," Hermione said before dashing down the stands towards the entrance.

Neville decided not to interfier and let Hermione handle thing after all, she did the same in the movies.

"Lend me that, Ron," Neville said, grabbing back the binoculars. He watched as Harry's broom tried to throw him off.

Then he turned back to observe Quirrell and Snape.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron muttered.

Neville watched as Hermione sprinted down the row, accidentally knocking Quirrell headfirst into the seats in front. He couldn't help but smile; it was rather comical how she'd practically thrown him into the stands below.

Turning back to the game, Neville saw Harry regaining control of his broom—even before Hermione set Snape's robes on fire.

"Neville, look Hermione did it!" Ron exclaimed.

Neville handed the binoculars back to Ron. "Yeah, it seems Hermione managed to sort it out," he said with a grin.

As soon as he steadied himself, Harry dived towards the ground and caught the Snitch.

"He's got the Snitch!" Ron shouted, his face alight with joy as the crowd went wild, cheering while Harry held the golden ball aloft.

Ron and Seamus hugged each other, jumping around in excitement.

"Well, it was more like he swallowed it," Neville chuckled.

Lee Jordan's voice boomed across the stadium, announcing the final score—Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

Harry was lifted onto the shoulders of the Weasley twins as they cheered triumphantly.

Hermione made her way back up the stands, and Neville patted her on the head. "Well done, Hermione. You've turned to the dark side," he joked.

She blushed and playfully batted his hand away with a grin. "Oh, stop that you prat," she laughed.

"Come on, we should go find Harry," Ron suggested.

"You lot ought to come to me hut for a cuppa," Hagrid offered warmly.

Neville nodded. "Sure thing, Hagrid."

Neville, Ron, and Hermione made their way down to the Gryffindor locker room.

Arriving there, they greeted Harry.

"Well done, mate! That must've been a record!" Ron exclaimed enthusiastically.

Hermione beamed at him. "Congratulations, Harry! You were fantastic."

"Yeah, you were brilliant out there—even if the game doesn't make any sense," Neville added with a smirk and a shrug, holding his hands up in a light-hearted gesture.

Ron looked annoyed at Neville's comment. "Quidditch makes perfect sense! You're the one who doesn't understand the game."

"Whatever you say, Ron," Neville replied with a cheeky grin, shrugging again.

Harry looked a bit miffed by the brewing argument.

Not wanting Ron and Neville to start bickering, Hermione jumped in. "Anyway, Hagrid invited us to his hut, so we should get going," she said. Leaning over to Harry conspiratorially, she added, "And we've got something to tell you."

Harry just nodded his head confused. "Yeah, sure."

Back in Hagrid's hut, Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione were all squeezed together on the snug sofa as Hagrid poured them mugs of strong black tea.

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining to Harry. "We saw him—he was cursing your broomstick, muttering under his breath, and he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"That's a load of codswallop," Hagrid said as he handed them each a steaming mug. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

As they continued their discussion, Neville was more preoccupied with the rock cakes Hagrid had offered them. He tapped one against his mug, only to hear a sharp clink as two solid objects met. He realised the cakes were practically as hard as stones.

He decided to soak his in the tea for a few minutes and cautiously took a bite. It was still rock hard, so he gave up and placed both the tea and the rock cake back on the table.

"I found out something about him," Harry told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Hallowe'en. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."

Hagrid dropped the teapot with a loud clatter. "How do you know about Fluffy?" he exclaimed, looking alarmed.

"Fluffy?" Ron, Hermione, and Harry echoed in unison.

"Yeah—he's mine—bought him off a Greek chap I met in the pub last year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—"

"The what?" said Harry eagerly.

"Now, don't ask me any more," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it," Ron insisted.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid firmly. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher; he'd never do anythin' of the sort."

"But we saw him!" Hermione persisted. "He was jinxing the broom—you've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all—I saw him!"

Neville spoke up, "Well, he could have been trying to use the counter-curse, you know."

All three of them looked at him incredulously.

"What are you talking about?" Ron exclaimed. "You were there—you saw him cursing Harry!"

"I'm not saying he wasn't," Neville replied calmly. "All I'm suggesting is that both jinxing and counter-curses require maintaining eye contact. Remember, always look beneath the surface."

Hermione looked thoughtful at this.

"But why would Snape try to save me?" Harry questioned. "He's always had it in for me. It doesn't make sense—he must have been the one cursing my broom."

"I'm tellin' yeh, you're wrong!" said Hagrid heatedly. "I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn't try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all of yeh—you're meddlin' in things that don't concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, and you forget what it's guardin'—that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—"

"Aha!" said Harry triumphantly. "So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

"I shouldn't have said that," Hagrid muttered, rubbing his forehead. "I should not have said that."

Neville interjected, "Hagrid, let them be—you won't change their minds. Anyway, Hagrid, I've been meaning to ask you something. I've heard there are Bowtruckles here at Hogwarts, and I've been wondering where to find them. Do you know where they are? I tried asking some of the older students, but they weren't sure where they could be found."

Neville recalled those thin, plant-like creatures from the Fantastic Beasts films but couldn't remember their name at first. He had looked them up in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and discovered they were called Bowtruckles. The book mentioned they lived on trees with magical properties but didn't specify where to find them, which Neville found rather misleading. He remembered seeing Newt Scamander playing with Bowtruckles when he was at Hogwarts and wondered if Hagrid knew where they might be.

Hearing Neville's question, Hermoine asked, "Er, what exactly are Bowtruckles? ive never read about them before "

Hagrid explained, "Oh, Bowtruckles, eh? Fascinatin' little critters, they are! Guard trees with magical properties, y'see. Look like skinny twigs themselves, with them long fingers an' shiny little eyes. They're right clever, too—proper protective of their trees.

Neville chimed in, "They're said to be very protective of the trees they inhabit—they might even gouge your eyes out if you provoke them!"

Hagrid laughed. "They're harmless, 'less yeh bother 'em. They live on Bowtruckle Island in the Black Lake. If you lot fancy it, I can take yeh to see 'em, but not now—what with winter comin', they'll be hibernatin'."

"Could I come along as well?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Course yeh can," Hagrid agreed.

Neville nodded. "Thanks, Hagrid. I've been wanting to see some magical creatures ever since you told me about the Mooncalves."

"Oh yeah, the Mooncalves!" Hagrid said brightly. "Yeh asked if I could take yeh to see 'em. How about after the winter holidays, I take yeh all to see both?"

"We're going off topic," Ron interjected, leaning forward. "Who's Nicolas Flamel?"

"I told yeh, I can't tell yeh any more," Hagrid insisted, avoiding their eyes.

Hermione glanced at the others. "Well, we'd better get going," she said, standing up. "Thank you for the tea, Hagrid."

"Yeah, cheers," Ron added, getting to his feet.

Neville sighed as he stood up with the others. "Thanks, Hagrid, and don't forget about the Bowtruckles and Mooncalves."

"Won't forget," Hagrid nodded. "I'll let yeh know when we're goin'."

As they made their way to the door, Hagrid called after them, "Now, promise me yeh won't go meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. That dog's there fer a reason."

"Of course, Hagrid," Harry replied, giving him a reassuring smile.

Once outside, Neville couldn't help but grin. "Can't wait to see Mooncalves and the Bowtruckles!" He was giddy; he'd been wanting to see magical creatures for ages, and now he had the chance. He was over the moon.

"Getting off topic again, Neville," Harry said shaking his head. "We've got to find out who Nicolas Flamel is."

"I've heard the name somewhere," Hermione mused thoughtfully. "I'll have a look in the library."

Ron rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Of course you will."

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