Chapter 123: Truth and Consequences

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18 March 1993, Hogwarts

Neville woke up disoriented slightly. He didn't remember how he had gotten to this place, which he realized in a few moments was the hospital wing in Hogwarts. It took a good minute for him to even remember the events that happened prior to him getting knocked out.

Potter, the Basilisk, Riddle, and Hermione. Oh, Merlin what happened to her? He sat up suddenly and exclaimed, "Hermione!"

"Calm down, Mr. Longbottom, your friend still lives," he heard the familiar voice of Madam Pomphrey say.

And just like that, with that confirmation, his thrashing stopped. The woman started to fuss over him and kept waving her arm, "Everything seems to be in order. You came up here with broken ribs and a concussion, which isn't really a big deal, if it wasn't for the fact that there was some kind of sleeping curse that kept you asleep for two days straight."

"Two days? What happened to Hermione? Did her plan work?"

"We'd all appreciate some insight into what you're talking about, Longbottom," McGonagall's voice interrupted, "the events of what happened to you raised many concerns. We would all like to know how you ended up unconscious, with a legendary sword that was lost for centuries, a cursed book, and Basilisk blood of all things on your clothes. That's not mentioning the comatose body of Ms. Granger. It took hours to find the two of you. I didn't even know that the hidden room we found you in even existed. So, start talking."

However, Neville didn't. He just stared at the form of Albus Dumbledore with awe, "Headmaster, you're back!"

The elderly man let out a small chuckle, "Yes, the board seemed to immediately stop my suspension when you were attacked. Apparently, they thought that the students would be safe with Hagrid out of the way. They were wrong, obviously, and since some of them have family members in the school, they kindly asked me to come back. Now, with that out of the way, why don't you tell us what happened, Neville?"

Honestly, the Longbottom scion didn't know where to start, until he took a deep breath and spoke up, "Hagrid's hut. Everything started at Hagrid's hut. I was visiting him when Fudge and Malfoy came. I heard them take Hagrid away and suspend you, headmaster. Hagrid said that I needed to follow the spiders if I wanted answers. I planned on going there, but I was stopped."

McGonagall groaned, "Thank Merlin. That man would have sent you to speak with an Acromantula colony on its own! Albus, you need to teach him a little moderation."

"And I will. This was unacceptable behaviour from him. I think that sometimes, Rubeus simply forgets that we are not as strong nor as resilient as he is."

He motioned to Neville to continue, "More specifically, I was stopped by Potter of all people."

Everyone straightened out, "Harry Potter had disarmed me, and told me that it would be too troublesome to let me go into the Forbidden Forest and get some answers, and instead, he just told me that he figured out where the Chamber of Secrets was, and that he needed a Parselmouth to open it for him. I would have refused, of course, but he had me at wand point, and I saw no harm in this."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed slightly, "Harry Potter was involved?"

Neville nodded and McGonagall frowned, "That's odd. He didn't say anything about it, and according to Severus, no Slytherin student was out of bed when you were attacked. They were all accounted for…"

"I don't understand…"

"Don't worry about it, young Neville, just continue your story," the headmaster urged with a gentle tone.

Still disturbed by the revelation, he spoke up, "So, apparently, the location of each attack made a Pentagram, which Potter deduced was for a ritual of some sort, and that its castor had to be in the middle of it. We found this room; I think Potter called it the Undercroft or something. We kept looking around for a snake, for some reason. I found it, and when I told it to open, the wall turned into a room with a huge tunnel in it. Potter told me that I was free to go, now, and that from now on, I could join him and defeat the heir of Slytherin together, but you wouldn't make me do anything. I decided to join in…"

The headmaster looked proud of his bravery, while McGonagall didn't look impressed, "Very well. So, you found out where the entrance was – breaking around a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add – but why on earth did you decide to jump in a mysterious tunnel instead of coming to get one of us."

"Well, Potter was going to jump anyway. And I guess I wanted revenge. It was pretty obvious that whoever was pulling the strings was framing me for it. I just didn't want to end up like Hagrid so decided to fight for my freedom. Of course, all of that courage practically disappeared, when Potter told me that the monster was most likely a Basilisk that was restraining itself from petrifying the victims instead of killing them. Apparently, the voice I have been hearing when every attack occurred wasn't some weird premonition or clairvoyance, but the Basilisk's voice echoing in the pipes. Of course, Potter had prepared for that fight for months or something, since he already knew what the monster was back the December. He had some things that he enchanted himself to help in the fight. Goggles that would nullify the Basilisk's glare. A few flashbangs, sonic grenades, and even cold bombs."

Dumbledore raised an impressed eyebrow, "Flashbangs to blind it, sonic grenades to disorient it, and of course, cold bombs to slow it down. Magical or not, a snake is a snake. Quite ingenious."

"Yeah, of course, it was all useless when we were all attacked by the Basilisk immediately and he ran away while I had to fight the damn thing. It was huge, like sixty feet tall, huge. But the cold grenades seemed to work pretty well, and since it was slowed and couldn't attack from range, it wasn't that hard to run away from it, and keep throwing bombs at it. I had almost run out later, but I was able to blind it by sending rocks pretty quickly at its eyes since Potter said that they were a weak spot compared to the rest of its body. I used one of the spells Wood taught me, Ventor Leviosa, which we used in our training sessions to levitate balls and throw them with a release at a certain speed. It was kinda hard, but it worked."

And wasn't that funny? Neville Longbottom had defeated a Basilisk with a Quidditch spell, of all things, but it worked and no one outside this room needed to know about it.

The headmaster was visibly amused by this, "Sometimes, it's the spells we deem useless that allow us victory."

Neville nodded, "Well, isn't that the truth? But by the time I blinded it, I ran out of Potter's bombs. The Basilisk was moving really sluggishly, I think the sonic bombs still affected it somehow. When it accidentally hit one of the pipes, and the tunnel kind of fell down on it, it didn't really move. It was just lying there and, I remember saying to myself that I needed something to kill it and save the school. I don't know how that happened, but this sword materialized in my hand, and I stabbed it through the eyes multiple times. Hell, I even stabbed it through the roof of its mouth just to make sure it was dead. So, afterwards, I tried to look for Potter, so that we would get out of there."

They were all watching him with a slightly awed expression, "You killed a Basilisk," Madam Pomphrey murmured.

"Well, yeah. I know Potter said that it took teams of wizards to kill one, but it wasn't really that hard. It stayed in the pipes, and it was so big that it couldn't dodge any of the bombs. Potter's bombs helped a lot, to be honest, and the magic sword that appeared in my hand kinda did the rest."

They all stayed silent for a good minute before Dumbledore spoke up, "So, you went to look for young Harry…"

"Ah, yes, I did. I found him playing chess of all things with an older student. He was wearing a Slytherin uniform, but I didn't recognize him. And Hermione was lying on the ground. Harry said that his name was Tom Riddle or something."

Holy Merlin, Neville wondered if that name was cursed or something, because McGonagall choked on air, and the twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes disappeared, which caused Neville to shiver.

"Are you sure that it was Tom Riddle? What did he look like?"

"I guess, he was sort of attractive. He had black hair, dark eyes, kinda aristocratic, I guess."

Dumbledore nodded, "Please proceed…"

Seeing the serious look on the headmaster's face, he obeyed without question, "Well, it turned out that this Riddle person was working with Hermione for some kind of grand plan. They wanted everyone to experience an illusion of a second life. It wouldn't be real, but they would remember it. Muggleborns would have memories of being Purebloods, and Purebloods would have memories of being Muggleborns. Imagine an entire generation of wizards and witches finally understanding one another. It would be peace, true peace."

"So, it was Hermione who opened the chamber?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, but you're missing the point. The chamber itself was a cover, a way to make people have the wrong idea about what happened. But Hermione was casting the ritual, her soul inside her diary, which meant that if Potter stopped her, she would die. I remember trying to attack him, but he snapped his finger. Then I woke up here. Did it work? Hermione's plan, are we at peace now?"

Dumbledore gave him a pitying look, "I'm afraid not, young Neville."

"Potter!" Neville snarled.

"Neville! You don't understand. Tom lied to you, Neville. He was always charismatic when he was that age. Do not be ashamed, far older and far wiser people have succumbed to his charm before."

He didn't understand what the headmaster was talking about, "Who is he?"

"Not many know this fact, but Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school … travelled far and wide … sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, and underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

That little piece of information froze Neville in his tracks, "This was Voldemort?"

"Yes, from what I could gather from the diary, it is a very dark artefact whose purpose is to possess the person writing in it. I believe Tom made it as a weapon, to spread fear in the castle and probably throw me out. I'm sad to say that it succeeded where Lord Voldemort failed in this particular endeavour."

"So, it was a lie? There was no plan of peace," the boy who lived asked with desperation in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Neville, but there wasn't. He was lying. Your friend, Hermione, was not a willing participant in any of this. She wrote in the diary and slowly he gained control over her body, he made her open the chamber of secrets, not the other way around."

"Is she alright? Hermione, that is."

"Her condition is stabilized, but this is the first time I have ever seen anything like this. From what I could gather, young Hermione's body is in a statis state, but her mind and soul seem to be bound in her diary. She remains there, living in a world created for her, living a blissful life, unaware of what is happening here. It's kinder than anything I assumed Tom would do, but at least, she's not in pain while we all figure out how to undo what happened to her."

Neville stood silent for a minute, "And will you be able to bring her back?"

"I don't know if it's even possible, but I do know that hope is a wonderful thing. I have called in dozens of specialists to look at her and I am hopeful that it would work. Have faith, Neville, she will be back one day, maybe even sooner than you might think."

Neville remembered Hermione defending him from even Ron, staying by his side when all others scorned him. She was a wonderful friend and he failed her. He wanted to feel angry, he wanted to feel sad, he wanted to yell at the world, but all that happened was the fact that tears started to leak from his eyes.

The headmaster left him to grief, followed quickly by his deputy. Madam Pomphrey gave him a pitying look and gave him another potion, that he drank absentmindedly.

He heard Dumbledore say something about talking to Harry Potter. He didn't care, nothing mattered other than the overwhelming grief that he was feeling. It was his fault. If he hadn't listened to Voldemort of all people, maybe he would have been able to save Hermione.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do now, and it was eating him alive.

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Deep within the hidden recesses of an elusive fortress, shrouded in secrecy, the eyes of an aged man snapped open. A sinister anticipation hung in the air, a palpable disturbance that reverberated like a shockwave through the very foundations of reality. His gnarled fingers twitched, betraying the ripple of excitement coursing through him.

Minutes passed, the echoes of the disturbance still reverberating within his being. And then, like the crescendo of a symphony, understanding dawned upon him. A mirthless laugh erupted from his lips, a chilling sound that slithered like a serpent that would have sent dread crawling up the spine of any spectator.

"Change," he hissed, his voice a blend of ancient wisdom and ruthless ambition. "The wheels of fate have been set in motion. This is the beginning of the end, Albus, the end that you refused to believe, and I can't wait to watch you burn."