"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!"
Neville lay on the floor. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were talking to him spouting apologies but he wasn't listening. He wished they would leave. Tonight was his best chance to steal the prize of a lifetime.
Fools! He thought as the three finally left, stepping over him and into the castle. You have given me everything I need. He waited a minute to ascertain they were gone, with Harry's invisibility cloak you could never be sure. Then, Neville closed his eyes and concentrated. He had been caught unawares by the same curse a few months back, courtesy of Malfoy, and did not intend to be as helpless the second time. As if on cue, Hermione had paralyzed him and he fell, his hand clutched around a scrap of paper containing the counter curse. Neville frowned, concentrating harder. He thought the counter curse over and over and over again. It became a mantra consuming his mind. Was that his toe that twitched? Again, the counter curse. And Neville was free.
He gingerly stood up and, shaking out any cramps that still gripped him, ran quickly to his dormitory to change into darker clothes more befitting a nocturnal escapade. Neville was no fool. He had spent months perfectly fabricating his bumbling façade, adamant that no one should suspect his intelligent and ambitious character.His gran had always told him "Better to be underestimated and sweep the chessboard, than be taken seriously and opposed from the start." Now, several months in, Neville began reaping the benefits of his charade.
He had overheard Harry, Hermione, and Ron's conversations, the Sorcerers Stone was in Hogwarts and Snape planned to steal it. Neville meanwhile, turned his gaze on a worthier prize. Nicolas Flamel had lived centuries, true, but Dumbledore was no spring chicken himself. Neville concluded that while Flamel paraded his achievement of eternal life around, Dumbledore had also discovered a key to prolonged life but had squirreled it away from the public eye. Neville had studied, watched, and learned until he came to the conclusion that those were the only constant in Dumbledore's life. And tonight they will be mine! He slipped back downstairs, through the common room, and into the castle hallways. Not having the luxury of an invisibility cloak he tiptoed softly, hugging the shadows.
With Dumbledore gone and Harry, Ron, and Hermione's shenanigans to distract anyone watching for students out of bed, Neville had free reign of the castle. He was a ghost! He made his way quietly to where he had found Dumbledore's office to be, checking the hallway he tiptoed up to the griffon statue. How will I get in? Suddenly the Griffon moved! He ran for cover in an alcove behind a horned statue.
When the rumbling of grinding stone stopped, Neville hunkered lower behind his statue and watched. Dumbledore stepped out from the passageway that had taken the place of the recently vacated griffon. The headmaster flew down the hall, not suspecting his observer. Harry, Ron, and Hermione must have triggered an alarm and Dumbledore had come running back to Hogwarts.
Neville wet his lips nervously, this was not part of the plan. I'm so close! Go on Neville. Stealing into Professor Dumbledore's sanctum he hurried up the stairs. Hesitation wouldn't avail him now. At the top of the stairs an arch opened into the headmasters luxurious study.
He surveyed the room. There they were! Basking resplendent in the moonlight, the most powerful wizard artifact in the modern era! The Sherbert Lemons of Long Life! Neville grinned, this had to be the source of Dumbledore's prolonged existence. He quickly pocketed the tray, careful to no leave a single one behind and ran! He ran recklessly back to the Gryffindor common room. Dumbledore would be alerted as soon as he had touched the tray. Skulking in corners wouldn't cut it now, he had nothing left to loose.
Panting he arrived back where the night had started. He changed into his pyjama's, jubilantly tucking his prize away at the bottom of his trunk, and once more descended into the common room. Thanks for the distraction Harry! He thought, you helped me create the perfect alibi. No one would suspect poor, paralyzed Longbottom had stolen the only items of any real value in Hogwarts. A smile crept across his face as he lay down across the entrance. He pointed his wand at himself, set a hopeless look of terror on his face, and:
"Petrificus Totalus".