Harry Potter and the Boy Who Lived

Chapter 2

The Present

Try as he might, Harry Potter could no longer pretend to be asleep. "Harry you had better get up! You have less than twenty minutes to get downstairs for breakfast or else your mother will come up and fetch you!"

The threat was not an empty one. Letting out a moan of agony, Harry rolled ungracefully out of bed and opened the door to see his father still dressed in pajamas and looking just as tired as Harry. A passerby might mistake the two for twins, but on closer inspection, small differences distinguished father and son. James Potter was still slightly taller than his sixteen-year-old son, and was broader in the shoulders and chest. Hazel eyes looked into sleepy green ones, and a simultaneous yawn broke out between them. Scratching at the stubble on his chin, James cuffed his son gently on the shoulder and padded back to bed. Suppressing an sleepy stream of profanity, Harry lugged himself to the bathroom and proceeded to get ready for the trip to London. Turning the handle, Harry heard a high-pitched scream and quickly shut the door again. In a few minutes, Rose Potter opened the door, shook out her wet hair and stormed past her older brother, shooting him death-glares. "Lock the door next time, stupid banshee!" Harry called after her.

Twenty minutes passed and Harry was leaning his tired, showered head against the bathroom door, his eyes closed for what he insisted would be just for a moment. Suddenly, the door opened outwards and he toppled forwards in a heap, barely managing to keep his towel in place. Just before he hit the ground, he felt himself levitate of the ground and saw his toothbrush speed towards him. Before he could protest, his toothbrush began assaulting his teeth, causing him to gurgle in shock. Lily Potter managed (she didn't know how) to keep a straight face as she flicked her wand, sending the toothbrush and her son to the sink. "Rinse," she said. "And now spit. There's a good boy, and now for your nappies."

"Okay! Okay, mum, I get the point! I'll get ready - I was just resting my eyes!" Harry smiled despite himself, but the smile vanished when he saw Rose leaning over the banister of the stairs, doubled over in laughter. He absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair and looked at his mother standing in the doorway. She had a funny look on her face, but he didn't catch it. He bent down and kissed her cheek as he went to his bedroom to dress. He's as tall as James now, Lily mused, as she walked back towards the master bedroom. She opened the door and her breath caught in her throat when she saw her husband curled in a ball in the middle of the bed. After twenty-four years, he's still the same boy. Lily couldn't resist.

She tiptoed over to the bed and crawled under the covers next to him. He turned over and without a second thought, pulled her close and nuzzled her neck as she wiggled into the crook of his shoulder. It was warm and soft under the covers, and smelled of right. James sighed contentedly and let his hands wander. Lily looked up at him and placed a small, feathery kiss at the corner of his mouth, giving him the shivers. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed his wife deeply as her hands slipped under his top and caressed the smooth warmth of his back and traced the curve of his spine lower and lower.

"Mum, it's getting late - it's already past ten! Mum, where are - AAAAARGH! I'm blind! I'm BLIND!" Harry staggered back out of the room at the sight of his parents tangled together on the bed.

James sat bolt upright in bed, kicking the covers off and dashing to the bathroom. "Merlin, Lily, why didn't you tell me it was so late!"

Cursing the first day of September and her own punctuality, Lily readjusted her clothes and reluctantly left the comfort of her bed for the second time that morning. Harry was writhing on the floor outside the room, covering his eyes moaning about being blinded. As she stepped over her twitching son a wicked grin cracked across his face.

"See? Getting out of bed is easy, right, Mum?"

*

Meanwhile

A similar problem plagued the Weasley family that same September 1^st. Only at the Burrow, the result was far more noisy and chaotic than at Godric's Hollow. Amid much shouting and dashing back upstairs for forgotten items and the slamming of trunks, Molly Weasley managed to stop herself from combusting.

Ron was awkwardly trying to eat a piece of toast smothered with honey while attempting to find his Transfigurations textbook and put on his shoes. Ginny was screaming at the top of her lungs at Fred and George who had charmed her trunk to make all its contents disappear every other time it opened. Arthur Weasley took a sip of tea from the mug that was following him around the house as he collected papers and dossiers so he could get to the Ministry straight after he'd delivered his children to King's Cross Station.

Amazingly, the Weasley family made it to platform 9 ¾ before the Hogwarts Express left the station. With hurried goodbyes and hugs and ruffled hair, Ginny and Ron boarded the train and waved to their brothers and parents as they pulled out of the station. With a loud 'pop', Mr. Weasley apparated to the Ministry, Mrs. Weasley back home, and Fred and George to Diagon Alley.

Several minutes went by and the platform grew quiet as the last of the families left. Ogden Frinkwald, managing conductor of the platform, and Old Brom, the janitor, were the only ones left on the platform when Fred and George Weasley apparated back to the platform. Ogden and Brom didn't notice the two redheads as they quietly drew their wands and whispered a few charms, then apparated back out, identical grins of mischievous elation on their faces.

*

Later, on the Hogwarts Express

The train car was crowded as it was, but the addition of Crookshanks made it nearly unbearable. Harry, Ron, Neville, Hermione, Ginny, Rose and Luna were already crammed on the seats, even though Hermione had charmed them to expand to accommodate all seven of them. Crookshanks would wander between their legs and look hungrily at Hedwig and Pig, who were both making a racket and glaring back at Crookshanks. Finally, Rose snapped.

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!"

Silence followed immediately. Rose sat down quickly and breathed a sigh of relief. "Now I can hear myself think!"

"Since when have you thought?" Harry quipped. Rose kicked him in the shin across the aisle and Harry rolled his eyes. Ginny suddenly kicked Ron, who whined in protest.

"What was that for?!"

"Seemed like a good idea," Ginny said, grinning at Rose, who failed miserably at turning her laugh into a cough.

Luna laughed raucously then stopped abruptly. "Let's get out of here, Ginny; Rosie. I have to talk to you guys, anyway."

Luna, Ginny and Rose squeezed their way out of the car and into the hallway and tried to look for somewhere private to talk. Rose may well have been a Weasley, except for the fact that her hair was a darker red than Ginny's, and that she was the spitting image of her mother, Lily. The three girls were thick as thieves, a trio to rival Ron, Neville and Harry.

The departure of the three girls meant more space for everyone who stayed behind.

"Now that they're gone, let's get down to business," Hermione said, conjuring a long piece of parchment. She scanned the page and pulled a quill out of the air, then made some quick notes in the margin.

The boys rolled their eyes. Ever since Hermione mastered conjuring, she wouldn't stop pulling things out of the air. She shot them looks that said well I don't see you trying to learn it!

"So as of the last meeting of the Order, we've still got very little to go on. Neville, has Dumbledore said anything to you over the summer that wasn't brought up during the meetings?"

"Nothing. Not even a cryptic sentence."

"But somebody has to be planning something," said Harry angrily. "Voldemort isn't sitting idly on his arse - so what the hell are we going to do?"

Ron's brow was furrowed in thought. Suddenly he snapped his fingers and looked up. "I know - I remember hearing something Remus said to Snape when they thought we weren't there. I was going to get those biscuits, remember, after that one meeting and we had to leave early?" Everyone nodded in assent.

"So I heard him say something about a prophecy."

"But we already know about the prophecy - Neville, you didn't leave anything out, did you?" Harry asked, looking straight at Neville.

*

A Few Months Ago, at the end of Fifth Year

Neville woke up in the hospital wing. Again. His scar itched but he was alive. He didn't know how he made it out of the Department of Mysteries. Stop it, he said to himself, trying not to think about last night. He looked around him but the curtains were drawn, so he couldn't see if anyone else was with him. He heard Madam Pomfrey bustling around, a sure sign he wasn't alone. A few minutes passed and the curtains opened around his cot.

"Awake, Mr. Longbottom? I don't know how you got there last night, but Merlin help me not to strangle Albus Dumbledore for letting you go. Be very glad all of you got out of there alive..." she muttered, mostly to herself.

Neville averted his eyes. To his left he saw Ginny lying very still, with Ron by her side, and to his right was Hermione, sleeping. Across the way were Harry and Rose, whispering to each other quietly, and Luna reading a copy of the Quibbler.

Harry looked up at Neville with a smile, then looked back down at Rose as Madam Pomfrey went over to her and fed her a potion.

Neville clenched his fists, refusing to let the tears that threatened to trickle out of his eyes. This is my fault, he said to himself. They're hurt and in here because I was so fucking stupid! He couldn't look at Ron or Ginny. Ginny! How could I let her get hurt? He sat upright, his head throbbing slightly, then got out of the bed. He pulled his robes on and walked quickly out of the hospital wing before Madam Pomfrey could notice he was gone. He strode purposefully to the Headmaster's office. "Drooble's Gum" he muttered to the gargoyle.

Without knocking, Neville pushed open the door to Dumbledore's office and stalked in. Albus Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, looking into his pensieve, and didn't look up when he offered Neville a seat.

No longer able to contain it, Neville burst. "I'm so FECKING STUPID!"

"Language, Mr. Longbottom. But surely you don't believe that?"

"Ginny is lying unmoving on a hospital bed, my best friends are all badly hurt, and it's all my fault! I'm the one who let myself be tricked, and the one who let them come with me and nearly led them to a fate worse than death! HOW CAN YOU SAY IT'S NOT MY FAULT?!"

Neville stood up, his voice cracking with emotion. He spun around and gestured at the room. "All this! All these things you have, and you couldn't do anything! So if you couldn't do anything, how could I?" He swept his hand at the shelf behind him, sending its contents crashing to the floor. Dumbledore did not move or object. Neville proceeded to destroy everything in the office and then sat down on the floor in an exhausted heap, shaking with tearless sobs and rage.

"It is my fault. Yes, and I know it now. But you cannot blame yourself for Voldemort using visions to trick you."

"I should have practiced more at occlumency. I should have been able to block the visions. I should have not believed them. When I saw my parents in the Department of Mysteries I thought I was having a vision of the past, until I saw Bellatrix Black looking like she does now, and threatening them. I had this feeling that they were alive - alive all this time and kept captive by Voldemort and I knew I had to find them - to see them. I don't know why I believed they were still alive. I DON'T KNOW WHY!"

Tears that could no longer be held back streaked Neville's face as his heart broke all over again, as his parents died again, as his friends all faced death because of him. "Everyone I care about - everyone - dies because of me! Why does it have to be me?"

Dumbledore stood up and walked to where Neville sat on the floor. With a grace and fluidity that belied his age, Dumbledore lowered himself to the ground next to him. "Neville, please listen to me. Do you remember when I told you a few years ago that I would tell you everything when you were older?"

Neville looked up at Dumbledore, a mix of rage and sadness in his eyes, and nodded.

"I didn't tell you because I thought I'd be protecting you. When you first faced Voldemort you were so small, so very small. I thought I would wait until later to let you know the full story, when you would be old enough to understand. Then next year you had faced Voldemort twice - something few grown wizards have done. But still I thought you too young. The same thing occurred to me your third year, and last year after your ordeal in the Maze at the Triwizard Tournament. But now, now I see I should have told you long ago. You've in you a strength and a power so rare, and so it is your right to know. And I have kept it from you. Neville, I will tell you, if you will listen."

A deep sigh shuddered through Neville's body and he stood up, offering a hand to the headmaster. He then sat down in the chair across from the big desk, and Dumbledore returned to his chair.

Dumbledore then proceeded to conjure up from the pensieve a wispy silver strand that took on the shape of a miniature Sibyll Trelawney. She spoke the prophecy that Voldemort so wanted to hear.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

A heavy silence settled on the room as the prophecy rang loudly in Neville's ears. A power the Dark Lord knows not.

"There is one other child who fits the description."

"You mean - it didn't have to be me?"

"Seeing the future is a tricky business. Often the words that speak of the future themselves can change the course of it."

"Who's the other one?" Neville asked, a feeling of jealousy welling up in the pit of his stomach - a resentment of that other child, spared the torture of his life.

"Harry Potter."

Neville considered this a moment. It made sense. Harry's parents, like his own, had been in the Order from the beginning, Harry's birthday was also at the end of July, and they were born in the same year. Harry. Harry with his happy family, Quidditch star Harry, with his perfect life, without any cares. Neville felt sick. Don't do that, he told himself, Harry's one of your best friends - this is not his fault, and the war is happening to him, too. He felt guilty for wanting to blame Harry: something else to blame himself for. Neville resolved to direct every iota of hate and anger and revenge in him towards Voldemort.

Neville had been silent for a while, so when Neville spoke out loud, Dumbledore was caught slightly off-guard.

"Voldemort is to blame for this. I didn't choose this. He did."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, but his heart was suddenly filled with pride. Only Neville could have handled the situation as he did, and he was the kind of person who would not delude himself into blaming anyone but the one who is truly at fault.

Filled with a new sense of purpose, Neville got up from his seat. He looked nervously around the room at his wave of destruction, but Dumbledore merely chuckled and said, "I have far too many things, anyway."

Neville left Dumbledore's office and headed back to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey was tending to Rose and Luna. She looked up at Neville and mumbled something about strangling Dumbledore again, then went back to her patient.

Neville walked over to where Hermione, Harry and Ron were sitting. None of them were speaking, and Ron had his eyes closed. Neville sat down and Ron looked up.

"I'm sor - "

"Don't," Ron cut him off. "Don't you dare apologize, Neville. If it weren't you and it was one of us, you would have followed us. There was no way we were going to let you go on your own, and if you tried to stop us, we'd have found some way to get there anyway." Neville opened his mouth to say something, but he stayed silent.

"Neville, no one was killed, and we managed to capture Bellatrix and three other powerful Death Eaters," Harry finished.

"But someone could have died - Ginny, Rosie, or Hermione, or everyone."

"It's a war, Neville. This was bound to happen, or something like it. You can't save everyone - it's not up to you to save everyone," Hermione said firmly.

"But it is," Neville said, in a whisper barley audible.

Ron was about to tell him not to think that, but something about the look on Neville's face told him that Neville wasn't joking. Harry looked around, and Madam Pomfrey was in her office out of earshot. Luna and Rose were sleeping again, and Ginny was still unconscious. The four friends leaned their heads in close, and Neville told them the prophecy.

Ron let out a low whistle. "Damn."

"So you see, it really is up to me."

"Neville you know you're not alone - all of us are here to help you. We're in this together. Until the end," Hermione said, her eyes full of tears and resolve.

Harry pulled out his wand, a strange look on his face that only Neville saw. Ron pulled out his wand, too, and Hermione and Neville followed suit. Hermione whispered a charm, and the four friends touched their wand tips together, and they all said in unison, "Until the end". A soft white glow emanated from the wands and spread up their arms, then surrounded them in a warm rush of air. The oath charm faded, and they sat in silence for a long while.

A low groan startled them out of their reverie. Ginny was stirring in bed, and Ron dashed over to her side, followed closely by the other three. Luna and Rose woke at the sound of clattering chairs, and sat up to see Ginny tossing. Madam Pomfrey was about to scold them for the noise when she saw what was going on. She grabbed a phial from her cabinet and hurried to the bed. Gently tilting her head forward, she administered the potion, and Ginny coughed slightly.

A few tense minutes later, Ginny's eyes fluttered and she opened one tentatively. She croaked out something that sounded like "where am I?"

Everyone sighed in relief, and Rose let out a sob. Ginny had been on the receiving end of Rudolphus Lestrange's Cruciatus curse when the Death Eater used her to ransom the prophecy from Neville, and no one doubted that he knew Ginny was Neville's girlfriend. Ron and Harry managed to catch Lestrange off guard and stun him, making him release Rose from the curse while Neville smashed the prophecy. The sheer force of Lestrange's cruelty nearly broke Ginny, and she had been unconscious since they left the Department of Mysteries.

Madam Pomfrey shooed them all away as she continued to administer potions, but Ron refused to leave her side. He held her head up as Madam Pomfrey poured an orange liquid into Ginny's mouth, and wiped the drip away from the corner of her mouth as he laid her back on the pillow.

Harry looked at Neville again, that same look crossing his face. Hermione had moved over to where Rose and Luna were sitting, and the three of them began to talk worriedly about Ginny. Harry put his hand on Neville's shoulder and Neville looked at his friend. They went to a quiet corner of the ward and Harry sighed.

"Neville, that prophecy...I...you..."

"I know - Dumbledore told me. He said it could have been you as much as me."

"I'm so sorry, Neville. I don't know what I would do if it were me who had to...I just don't fucking know."

"Now it's you who's being unreasonable. Sure, the first thing I felt was anger when I found out it might not have been me who was chained to this war - you've got everything. A family that I could never have, a life, your own life. Who wouldn't feel bitter? But I don't blame you. I couldn't, even if I wanted to, because I know the only one to blame is Voldemort. The only thing left is just to finish this fucking war."

Harry nodded and leaned his forehead against Neville's scar, then touched his left shoulder where, under his shirt, was the tiny lightning-shaped scar that appeared on the four friends' shoulders when they made their first oath of friendship. Harry then cuffed Neville playfully on the arm and they went back to join the rest of their friends.