Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived

Chapter 1

The Present

Neville Longbottom woke up as a searing pain cut across the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. He touched it gingerly, trying not to move his head too much. He was drenched in sweat, his bed a mess and his breathing shallow and rapid. Neville had been dreaming again. Voldemort was closer than ever, stronger than ever, and Neville could feel the sickening twinges of joy of his arch-enemy.

Sighing heavily, Neville swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got up. It was 4 am and the night was velvety dark. His grandmother wouldn't be up for another three hours. Every day, at exactly 7, Gran would get up, dress, go to the kitchen and by precisely 7:44 be calling Neville downstairs for breakfast. But today would be different. Today was the last day of August, and Neville would be returning to Hogwarts to start his sixth year.

There was no way Neville could get himself to fall asleep again, so he busied himself by re-packing his trunk for the fifth time that week. He couldn't wait to get out of his Gran's house, but somehow this year he wasn't looking forward to school. Usually, Hogwarts was the only respite he got from his thoughts. While he was at school there was always something going on to occupy his mind and stop him from dwelling on the hopelessness of his life. At school he had friends and studies; here all he had was his Gran and a big house full of things to remind him of his past.

*

Sixteen Years Ago

It was nearly twenty years ago when Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort, and within four years of adopting that name, the wizarding world learned to fear it. Somewhere in that time a prophecy was made - a prophecy that would change the course of many lives and would direct the future of the magic population. Sixteen years ago, Voldemort killed Frank and Alice Longbottom and tried to kill their son, Neville. They had defied him three times, their son was born as the seventh month died, and the child was destined to destroy Voldemort. But the Dark Lord did not learn of the rest of the prophecy: that he would mark the child as his equal, and thus create a being that would grow to revenge the evil inflicted or die trying - for neither could live while the other survived.

Frank died valiantly, defending his wife and child as Voldemort entered their home, seeking to destroy them. Alice clutched her son to her as she pointed her wand at Voldemort, who cackled a loud, high pitched laugh that chilled the air and struck at Alice's heart. "Not my son! You will never take my son!" Alice kept saying as Voldemort moved closer to her, holding his wand almost nonchalantly in his hand, as though he were somehow unaware of what it was. A look spread across his face that, to a normal human being, seemed to be one of pain, but in his sick, twisted way, Voldemort was smiling. In a moment, he'd gripped his wand and pointed it directly at Alice, almost whispering the death curse, as if to taunt his victim. "Avada Kedavra..." As Alice's lifeless body slumped to the ground, her arms were still wrapped around Neville. The boy had stopped crying from the shock of having fallen, and at his mother's sudden collapse.

The child looked up into the face of the Dark Lord and hiccupped. Voldemort sneered at this mundane element to the moment he considered as his triumph and the guarantee of the success of his plans. This tiny thing is what threatens me, the great Lord Voldemort? This insignificant piece of flesh has been prophesized to defeat me? Then let him try and defeat me when he is dead! Voldemort pointed his wand at Neville, who hiccupped again, and shouted the death curse. A blast of green light shot from the end of the wand and hit Neville. A wave of triumph washed over Voldemort, but it was short-lived. The blast from the wand was deflected - a golden glow surrounding the baby repelled the curse and shot it back at its originator. A blood-curdling cry ripped through the night air as Voldemort's body was destroyed and his spirit disappeared in a wisp of red light. The house was in ruins and a tiny, shivering Neville sat atop his mother's body.

It would be nearly noon by the time the destruction was discovered. Mrs. Longbottom, Frank's mother, was dropping by for her weekly lunch with her son's family, when she saw the obliterated house. Panic gripped her heart and her legs refused to move as she stood outside what used to be the gate. No sound came to her lips as she forced her way into the rubble, finding her grandson shivering in sleep, curled around his mother's arm. A few feet away, Mrs. Longbottom found her son. She sank to her knees in the ash and among the collapsed walls. Tears would not come, just dumb shock and confusion. She could not comprehend what it was she saw. She did not know how long she had been there, and she vaguely remembered being hoisted from the ground by strong hands, and taken home.

Reubus Hagrid returned to the destroyed house once he'd deposited Mrs. Longbottom at home and under the care of Minerva McGonagall. Albus Dumbledore was standing on the curb, quite engrossed in a trail of ants marching along the edge of the charred grass. "Funny, isn't it, Hagrid?" Dumbledore said, not looking up. "We're so much like them, really - small and easily crushed, and yet, they keep on working, despite the destruction around them. So quickly replaced by others, their lives so short, so unremarkable."

Hagrid swallowed back tears and looked up at the sky. Dumbledore finally looked up at his giant companion and sighed. "Hagrid, take Neville to his Grandmother. He will be safe there."

*

The Present

Neville sat down at the foot of his bed, the sky now getting the hints of light that told him dawn would come soon. He sighed again and picked up a book from his trunk. Transfiguration for the N.E.W.T. Level Student. He smiled, remembering when Hermione had given it to him after he'd gotten an E on his Transfiguration O.W.L. "I knew you could do it!" she'd said, hugging him happily. How like Hermione to congratulate his passing by giving him something more to study. His eyes strayed back to the trunk, and he pulled out a small sneakoscope and a pack of enchanted cards. Harry had given him the sneakoscope in the last year after the incident in Hogsmeade where someone tried to ambush him. Ron had given him the cards so he could "beat me at a game for every time I've beat you at chess!" Neville smiled, thinking of his friends and the times they'd had together. Just a few more hours, he thought, his mind drifting back to his first year at Hogwarts and the first time he'd met his three best friends.

*

Six Years Ago

Ron Weasley was finding it very hard to stop himself from running, but he held his ground as his mother swooped down on him, rubbing hard at his nose, trying to remove a spot of something. He found it even more difficult to keep still while his best friend, Harry Potter, was making faces at him from behind Mrs. Weasley's back. Harry stopped suddenly, and Mrs. Weasley stood up and said in mock-severity, "Lily, dear, do tell me your son isn't having a go at mine again," moving forward to hug the witch who had walked up behind Ron. "Molly, I'm surprised at you! You know full well that Harry would never do something like that unless he was provoked. Would you, Harry?"

Harry flushed crimson under his mother's stern gaze, but it faded when she winked at him from over Molly Weasley's shoulder. Lily Potter turned to Ron and ruffled his hair playfully, then went over to her son. Harry was a small boy with round glasses, remarkably untidy hair and startling green eyes. Lily couldn't resist a grin as her son winked back; his eyes twinkling with the same brightness as his mother's, with a language all their own. That he loved his mother went unsaid but was most definitely understood. Lily took his hand and led him towards the train. A handsome wizard who looked just like Harry but with laughing hazel eyes came off the train and walked quickly towards them. James Potter beamed at his son. "Your trunk's already in there, Snitch."

Harry blushed and looked around, hoping no one had heard his father use his pet name. He distanced himself from his mother a bit and ran his hand through his hair, trying to look grown up and independent. James smiled indulgently and slid his hand around Lily's waist as their son boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. You could have bottled their pride it was radiating so much from them - their son, Harry, was going to go to Hogwarts.

Harry was joined by Ron a moment later, Mrs. Weasley standing alongside the Potters, waving at her four sons, Percy, Fred, George and Ron, while holding her only daughter, Ginny, by the hand. As the train began to pull out of the station, Ginny ran alongside the train, half crying, half laughing, watching all her brothers until the train was speeding off down the tracks. Ron sat down with a relieved sigh and Harry collapsed beside him. They began talking about how annoying parents are, and how they couldn't wait to get to school when a knock at the car door made them both jerk their heads up. A round-faced boy with brown hair, sad eyes and a thin, lightning-shaped scar on his forehead peeped around the door.

"Oh, hallo Neville!" said Harry brightly.

"Want to sit in here?" asked Ron, motioning to the empty seats.

Neville smiled and plopped down next to his friends. Harry, Ron and Neville had been friends since they were very small (which wasn't too long ago) because their parents were all friends. After the horrible murder of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Voldemort had disappeared and was believed to have been destroyed. But there were those who knew better. The Order of the Phoenix was created to defend people against Voldemort and his followers. The Potters, Weasleys and Longbottoms were all members of this special organization. Many families were involved in the Order, and all their children were (sometimes jokingly, sometimes seriously, always lovingly) referred to as "Children of the Order".

Of all the Children, Harry, Ron and Neville were the closest. The three of them could not be more different and more the same. Harry was outgoing and whip smart, Ron was clumsy and funny and Neville was quiet and moody. Yet they all had a knack for getting in trouble, their different talents and wits made them a formidable team, and they all had an unhealthy obsession with Quidditch, even as toddlers. In their band of imps, Harry would lead, Neville would work out the problems and Ron would get them out of trouble. Harry and Ron loved to cause trouble (though Harry most of all) and, though he was frightened of his Gran, Neville usually risked punishment for the fun of running amok.

Because they'd grown up with him, Harry and Ron didn't think Neville was anything more than their friend. But the rest of the world saw Neville as "The Boy Who Lived", the one who'd defeated Voldemort before he could even hold a wand. Neville was a celebrity, a hero in the wizarding world and wherever he went, people recognized him by his scar and would either fall hush in awe or bombard him with questions and comments. Neville's Gran loved to parade her grandson and constantly reminded him of the sacrifice his parents made. Between the attention and the guilt, Neville had developed a reclusive nature and a deep inferiority complex. He at once tried to prove he was worth something while trying to play down his celebrity.

Neville was grateful for Ron and Harry - they were as much brothers to him as friends. Their parents had been so kind and loving and had him over to stay many times. The Potters, Weasleys and Longbottoms were old friends from their Hogwarts days and from working in the Order, and when Frank and Alice died, both the Potters and Weasleys offered to take him in. The Weasleys already had one son nearly at Hogwarts, two younger sons being taught at home, twin toddlers, an infant Ron and another on the way, but nonetheless they were more than willing to adopt Neville. The Potters only had Harry, and they had plenty of room for another. But Dumbledore had insisted that Neville stay with his Gran, where he would be protected by the presence of family - a force so strong that Voldemort could not hope to harm Neville there.

As Neville sat down, the lady with the food trolley stopped at their car. "Anything to eat, dears?" The three pooled their coins and bought enough chocolate frogs and Every Flavour Beans and Drooble's gum to satisfy an army. They sat eating and talking merrily as the scarlet train hurtled towards Hogwarts unseen by non-magical eyes.

They started up a game of exploding snap and were chatting merrily again. At one point a pair of first year boys walked by then stopped, turned around and looked in awe. Seamus Finnegan and Terry Boot gaped at Neville, their eyes bulging and looking at the scar on his forehead.

"Cor," said Seamus, not bothering to close his mouth. "You're Neville Longbottom, aren't you?"

"Who?" asked Dean Thomas, who was walking down the corridor. He'd never heard of Neville because he was Muggle-born.

"It IS him! He killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! Lookit - he's really got a scar," Terry babbled, pointing at Neville's forehead. Neville felt the red creeping into his cheeks. A crowd was starting to gather as more students heard that Neville was on board; they were all craning their necks to get a look at the Boy Who Lived.

Then, a mean-looking boy with nearly-white-blonde hair and cold eyes pushed his way to the front of the crowd and stepped into their car. "Well, so it is true. The famous Neville Longbottom is indeed coming to Hogwarts. My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." Malfoy extended his hand for Neville to shake, but Neville did not move. "Why don't you come with me and I'll introduce you to some people. They'll forgive you for having sat with these blood-traitors, these Muggle-loving losers." At this, Neville stood up, Harry and Ron also stood, flanking Neville and glaring at Malfoy and taking a step towards him.

Neville had drawn his wand and was pointing it at a smirking Malfoy.

"I'll pick my own friends, Malfoy. I've heard of your lot - all Death Eaters, aren't they? Maybe you'd like to join their ranks, too, and kill innocent and defenceless people?" Neville said this quietly - his quiet voice echoing over a now-silent crowd of dumbstruck onlookers. Malfoy sneered and pulled out his own wand. Harry and Ron drew theirs, readying for a fight.

"Fine. Your loss."

Malfoy was about to hex Neville when a stern voice interrupted the moment.

"What do you think you are doing?" Malfoy spun around to address the voice. It seemed to have come from a very bushy-haired girl with rather large teeth.

"And just what makes you think you can tell me what I can and can't do?" Malfoy demanded of the girl. She was obviously a first-year, but she didn't seem to care.

"It just so happens that those are the rules, clearly listed outside the train car, if you took the time to read them. Or perhaps you're just too thick to think of that?"

Malfoy's pale skin took on a pinkish flush of anger and embarrassment for being addressed in such a blunt manner. He would have hexed the girl, too, but she'd brought the prefects with her, and he couldn't risk getting in too much trouble before very first day at Hogwarts had even begun.

"Watch your back, Longbottom. Your friends don't seem quite capable."

With that, Malfoy turned on his heel and stalked out of the car through the crowd of people. The prefects broke up the crowd and Neville, Harry, Ron and the girl were left alone. Exhaling with relief, the three boys were about to start talking again when they realized the girl was still there, looking at them sternly. Finally Harry collected his wits and asked the girl if they could help her.

"I take it you three didn't read those rules, either," she said, looking pointedly at their wands, still drawn from the confrontation.

"We weren't just going to stand there and let the little bugger hex us! What d'ya think we are - stupid?" Harry said, incredulous.

"I won't answer that," the girl replied, taking a seat. The boys looked at her, absolutely baffled. "My name is Hermione. Hermione Granger," she said, and not waiting for a reply, extended her hand. Harry shook her hand first.

"Harry Potter. This here's Ron Weasley, and that's Neville Longbottom."

Neville mentally prepared himself for the onslaught of questions and wide-eyed looks, but when they didn't come, he was so confused he forgot to let out the breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding. Hermione merely smiled at him and began to chatter on about Hogwarts.

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold it a sec," Ron said, just as perplexed as Neville, "what are you going on about?"

"Haven't you read Hogwarts: A History? It tells you everything you need to know about the school and the castle. I'd have thought you would have read it, too. You're all wizards, aren't you? My parents aren't wizards, but they were awfully proud when my letter came. I bought the book in Diagon Alley - you've all been there, I'm sure..."

Hermione kept talking, oblivious to the shock on the boys' faces. Finally she got up and, with a final reminder about the rules, she left.

As the door closed behind her, there was a moment of silence and finally Ron piped up. "I hope I'm not in the same house as her - we'd never be able to do anything with her around reminding us of the rules all the time!"