Work Text:
Submitted for The Houses Competition Forum - Round 8
House: Ravenclaw
Subject: Arithmancy (Standin)
Category: Standard
Prompts: Prompt selection one:
[Action] Jumping [Character] Neville Longbottom [Dialogue] “I’ve been here before” or “we’ve been here before.” [Object] Candlestick [Word] Stop
WC: 1394/3000
Neville Longbottom had been lost at Hogwarts exactly thirty-four times since term started. At least, that was the number he’d been keeping in his head. Thirty-three of those times had ended with him red-faced, late to class, and muttering, “Why does this always happen to me?”
He had a history.
Once, on his way to Herbology, he’d opened what he thought was a broom cupboard and promptly stepped into the Sahara Desert. Sand had filled his shoes, his ears, and his pockets before he stumbled back through the door choking on dry air and wondering if mirages counted as extra credit. Professor Sprout had looked very unimpressed when he turned up late, clutching a cactus like it was proof of attendance.
Another time, he had been trying to find the library, only to take a wrong staircase and wind up at the bottom of the Black Lake. One blink, he was on the third floor; the next, he was face-to-face with the giant squid, who waved at him cheerily with a massive tentacle. Neville would’ve drowned if the staircase hadn’t sneezed him back onto dry land, soaking wet and covered in algae. Madam Pince had banned him from dripping on the books.
And the worst one—well, nearly the worst—was when a shortcut took him up a tower, out a door, and suddenly onto the peak of a prehistoric mountain. Far below, dinosaurs—and he knew they were dinosaurs because Hermione had given him a book about prehistoric flora and he’d read about the strange creatures that resembled dragons—roamed a lush valley, roaring and snapping their enormous jaws. Neville had frozen on the ledge, too scared to breathe, until a passing pterodactyl gave him a very pointed look. That was when the door had popped open again and he scrambled back inside, vowing never to follow moving staircases that said, “Trust me.”
This time, he’d been trying to get to the greenhouses after dinner to check on his Mimbulus Mimbletonia.
Simple enough, right?
Instead, five wrong turns and one extremely judgmental portrait later, he was in a long, narrow corridor he’d never seen before. It was gloomier than usual, the torches sputtering like they were running out of oxygen—or patience. At the far end, perched on a crooked pedestal as if it had been waiting just for him, was… an old candlestick.
It flickered faintly.
Neville swallowed. “Alright… that’s not creepy at all.”
His better judgment begged him to turn around, but instead, his feet carried him forward. He plucked the candlestick up, and the weak flame inside brightened, illuminating his path.
He walked. And walked. The corridor stretched on far longer than it had any right to. The air grew colder, heavier, and then so silent it made his ears ring.
Why didn’t I turn around already? Neville thought, clutching his bag tighter. I always do this. Always.
Then—hot air.Neville froze. His stomach dropped, his knees locked, and for one horrifying second he was convinced the castle itself had just exhaled on him.
Stay calm. It’s fine. Totally fine. He swallowed hard. “Greenhouses,” he whispered to himself, his voice wobbling. “Definitely the greenhouses. Warm air, humid air—that’s all. Heating vents. Professor Sprout probably ordered extra ventilation. Yes. Yes, that’s it.”
The logic was so thin even he didn’t believe it. But panic-stricken Neville clung to it anyway, hugging it close like a lifeline. His sweaty palm tightened on the candlestick, and he forced himself to shuffle forward.
Every step made his nerves scream louder. The hot air came again, stronger this time, ruffling his hair. He froze, then started muttering excuses in rapid-fire. “Okay, so maybe not greenhouses… but—maybe the kitchens? Yes, ovens! Giant ovens. Perfectly normal.” His laugh came out cracked and strangled. “Yes, ha, ha, just ovens…”
The silence around him was thick, pressing in closer and closer, until even the sputtering of the candlestick flame felt deafening. The thought hit him all at once— Why didn’t I just turn around? Why do I never turn around?
He kept walking.
The flame in the candlestick guttered, then died.
“No, no, no—” Neville fumbled with his wand, his hands shaking as he managed to coax it alight again. The small glow returned, trembling in the darkness.
And that was when he saw it.
A dinosaur.
Not in a book, not in a dream, but right there, filling the cave like some impossible, snorting nightmare. Its massive head tilted toward him, scales catching the faint orange glow of the candlestick. Two golden eyes gleamed like lanterns, fixed directly on Neville.
It wasn’t moving much—just…sitting. Relaxed, even. Like it had been perfectly content minding its own prehistoric business until one terrified eleven-year-old had barged in waving a wobbly candlestick. Its breath gusted out in long, heavy waves, hot enough to make Neville’s fringe curl at the edges.
Neville’s brain did the sensible thing and completely stopped working. But his legs, traitorous as ever, bolted.
The dinosaur gave a delighted roar and came bounding after him—not running, but jumping. Gigantic, earth-shaking hops that rattled Neville’s teeth and made the ground quake like it was laughing at him.
Neville tore through the undergrowth, sweat streaming into his eyes, leaping over cracks in the earth, scrambling over roots, nearly tripping on fallen trees. Every time he jumped, there was another colossal thump right behind him, like he was being chased by a very enthusiastic jack-in-the-box with teeth.
His heart slammed against his ribs. His lungs burned. His brain shrieked at him that this was horribly, awfully familiar.
“I’ve been here before!” he shouted, gasping for breath. “The prehistoric era! Last time it was just me on a mountain—and now—now you’re jumping after me!”
There had been that flying dinosaur who had stared at him, and then the door had spat him back out. But now there was a dinosaur playing ‘follow the leader.’
He tore through the strange prehistoric jungle, branches snapping at his robes, the ground shaking with each step of the creature behind him. Finally, his wild sprint carried him toward a dark cave mouth. He recognized it—the same one from before.
“Yes—yes, please let it work—”
Neville hurled himself into the cave. The dinosaur followed happily, tail smacking trees flat as it bounded after him.
And then—
WHUMP.
Neville slammed onto solid stone floors, tumbling end over end like a sack of flobberworms. Dust and cobwebs puffed into the air, tickling his nose. The familiar musty, torchlit smell of Hogwarts hit him like a wave of home… sort of. He scrambled upright, clutching his bag, his robes ripped and soaked with sweat, tears streaking down his dirt-smeared face.
He’d made it.
He… he had actually made it.
And then— THUMP.
A very, very large sound. Something that could probably crush a suit of armor without even trying. Neville froze, chest hammering. His knees wobbled. His brain went completely blank except for one thought: Oh no.
He turned slowly, and the scene made his stomach do flips.
The dinosaur.
There it stood in the middle of the corridor, enormous, scales glinting torchlight, claws clicking on stone like a very bad drummer, tail swishing in exaggerated arcs. Nearby students froze, mouths open, wands halfway in the air, eyes the size of Snape’s cauldrons. Then chaos erupted.
Screams! Students scattered in every direction, bumping into each other and slamming into walls. Wands flew from trembling hands, knocking over a stack of crates and sending loose scrolls fluttering like startled birds. Neville himself stumbled backward, arms flailing, and collided with a suit of armor, sending the helmet clanging across the corridor.
The dinosaur flinched, ears—or whatever dinosaurs have for ears—twitched, and with a surprisingly graceful hop , it jumped straight for the nearest window.
Neville rushed forward in horror. “No, no, wait—”
But it was too late.
The glass didn’t even break; it seemed to know the dinosaur needed it. With a single powerful leap, the creature was gone, crashing through the night sky like a flying, very confused cannonball, and straight into the Forbidden Forest.
With a crash of branches and a roar that echoed through the hills, the dinosaur disappeared into the Forbidden Forest.
And for the thirty-fifth time that term, Neville thought: Why does this always happen to me?
This was even worse than the first time he’d been in the era of the dinosaurs.
He was so dead.