The Boy Who Died

"Remus, how are you?" asked the man with the black hair, taking a seat opposite the other man.

"Tired," sighed the brown haired man. He looked old and young at the same time. "It's been a long full moon again."

"Moony, you know I promised that I'd be there if I could, but..."

"Lily, I know. It's okay, Prongs. How is Harry, anyway?"

"He's fine. He doesn't really understand his importance to us... he... he gets confused whenever we have to move. He likes England so far though."

"Why?" hissed the man called 'Remus' and 'Moony' through his teeth. "Why do we have to fight like this? Isn't there another way?"

"To let Harry grow up, and to teach him to fight. To tell Harry what he is up against once he can understand, and to be ready," sighed Prongs. "I only wish it wasn't my son... It could have been Neville Longbottom..."

The boy looked up at that name. It sounded vaguely familiar. He tried it out in his head, 'Neville Longbottom'... 'Neville Longbottom'... but he couldn't place it at all.

"What I would like to know is how the Death Eaters know to follow us at all..." Prongs said, resting his elbows on the table. "We have been moving for two years, but they find us every time!"

"You don't think... Peter?" asked Moony. Prongs shook his head. "Not Peter. But someone who knows him. I think I will have to check his alliances." The one called Prongs shook his head again rather sadly. "I thought I could trust him... but maybe Sirius was the right choice after all. Please... contact him for me."

Moony nodded, and picked up the newspaper he was reading. However, he put it down again a moment later, unable to concentrate. "James, does there seem to be anything strange about this carriage to you?"

"Not really... I've been on enough Muggle trains recently to know what they look like now, Remus."

"It's not what it looks like that's the problem. I can feel a non-human presence."

James looked up at Remus in alarm, and the boy shrunk behind the table, He had been spotted - he knew enough of what he had heard to know that.

"Animal?" asked James. Remus shook his head.

"Not animal. It's familiar but... I can't describe it. I used to get it at Hogwarts a lot..."

"Magic? No, wait... you said a presence." James looked at Remus. "A ghost?" Moony nodded. The boy did not know that he was a ghost - he did not know what a ghost was - but something inside himself said that they were talking about him. Rather slowly, he made his baby steps out from under the table towards him.

"Hewwo," he said quietly.

"Hello," said Remus, who looked shocked but didn't sound like it. "What's your name?"

The boy shrugged in his babyish way. "Don't know."

"How long have you been here?" he tried again, kneeling down to get on the same level as the child.

"Don't know. A long time," said the babe. "I live here."

"Do... Did you have parents?" asked Remus. This time the boy did not speak to reply. He shook his head. James pulled Remus back onto his seat, and took his turn to talk.

"I have a son who looks a little bit older than you," he said. "Would you like to come home with me?"

The boy nodded eagerly. "Home?" he asked. James nodded, and the boy broke into the first grin he had ever had as a child.

"Not your home," cautioned James. "My home." But the boy didn't care at all.

"We'll be coming up to your stop now, James," warned Remus, looking out of the window and folding his newspaper carefully. James wasn't really paying attention, but he nodded.

"Listen," he told the boy, "I can't carry you - my hands will go through you. If you can climb into this bag then you can be hidden. People will get scared if they see you."

The boy nodded his round face solemnly, and climbed into the bag. Although he did not make an impression on the surface of the bag, somehow he could stay in there without going through the leather sides.

He felt the bag being shifted as James took hold of it, and heard him saying goodbye to Remus. He heard the noise of the passengers on the platform, and then a new voice came clearly through the bag.

"James! You're finally back!" It was a female voice, and the boy had the distinct impression that he had heard it before.

"The train was delayed, love. Let's get back to the house before we are found," suggested James. "Is Harry alright?"

"Yes, I left him with Sirius," said the woman. "He's asleep."

"I have a surprise for you in my bag," said James, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"What is it this time?" asked the woman.

"I'll show you when we get home - but we'll have to change the secret," he added. "And unfortunately our secret keeper too..."

"Why?" asked the woman, shocked.

"I cannot really explain. But the Death Eaters are always getting too close. We should change back to Sirius," he suggested.

"I don't really understand..." sighed the woman, but spoke again quickly. "But I'll go along with it. You know the trouble better than anyone, my strong Auror..."

James laughed, and the boy felt himself being pressed against a person on each side of him. He squashed himself smaller. The two bodies separated, and he breathed easier.

The couple walked together away from the station. It had been a long time since the boy had been outside a station, but he had a good memory. He could remember the station in his town, but he could not remember where it was. And now, in this new place, he could not see anywhere.

James stopped, and the boy heard a rattle of keys. There was a creak of a door opening, and James entered the house. He heard another voice - from a man this time. It was quiet, as if speaking in a half-whisper.

"Shh! Harry's asleep. How are you, James?"

"Bit of a tough day at work," replied James in the same quiet voice. "We captured Malfoy finally. Boy, he was a hard bit of work!"

A sound almost like a crow of delight but much quieter came from the other person, and the boy felt himself squeezed again by the woman.

"That's wonderful!" she whispered. "Fantastic!"

"Hey, don't squash the bag," laughed James, again in that unusually quiet way. "Let's go upstairs and I'll show you who's inside."

"Who?" came two equally surprised voices. James did not reply audibly, but began walking again. The boy shifted about to get more comfortable.

Finally, James put the bag down on a table. He opened the end, and the boy crawled out of it. There were intakes of breath from the woman - who had red hair and green eyes - and the other man - whose hair was black like James's. The woman spoke first - two words he had heard before, on the train.

"Neville Longbottom!"

"Is that me?" asked the boy, in the silence that followed those two words. The woman - Lily - looked at him for a moment with motherly love in her eyes.

"Yes, it is. Would you like to stay with us?" she asked. Neville nodded. That was his name - Neville. He had an identity, he knew who he was! He wanted to hug the woman, but he couldn't. His face fell as he thought of all the things he couldn't do... and sighed.

"I want to hug you," he said sadly. Lily closed her eyes as a sad tear rolled down her face. Then James had an idea.

"When you were in the bag, we couldn't squash the bag. Neville, if you get in the bag then Lily can hug you!"

His face beaming with delight, Neville scrambled into the bag and allowed Lily to pick him up and hug him tightly. He hugged back as tightly as he could, the ghost tears rolling down his face matching the real ones on Lily's.

"You're gonna have to change the secret!" exclaimed Sirius suddenly. James nodded, and Lily carefully put Neville down. He crawled out of the bag, and yawned suddenly.

"I'm tired," he said, rubbing his eyes. "I need to sleep."

Conjuring up a flow of air with her wand, Lily wafted Neville into the air. He giggled slightly.

"I'm going to put you in Harry's room," she said. "Harry is my son, and he's the same age as you are."

"But I'm dead..." wondered Neville.

"That doesn't mean you're not older," replied Lily with a smile. "You know a lot more than a one-year-old would."

Neville relaxed as he was blown downstairs and into a brilliantly painted room. There was a bed on one side, and a blanket lay on the floor. Lily rested Neville down here. The boy fell asleep almost immediately. He didn't need sleep - he was a ghost - but sometimes it was much easier to drift off.