Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Note: Written for the Ascend the Ladder Competition (first Hogsmeade trip), If You Dare Challenge (221 - lived), As Much As You Can Competition, 85 Shades of AU (ghost/supernatural)
Destiny
Neville scuffed the tip of his shoe against the cobblestone pavement as he lazily swung his legs back and forth, not yet tall enough to have his feet rest comfortably on the ground yet not short enough to have them dangle incessantly over the edge, just at the awkward height in between. Trevor, the toad that his uncle gifted him with, sat by his side, croaking loudly every now and then, eyelids drooping lethargically.
He and his gran were meant to be out shopping for school supplies since the term was just around the corner, so after visiting Diagon Alley, the two took a stop at Hogsmeade where his gran needed to finish some business, which Neville dared not ask should he receive a glare and a reminder to mind his own business. But there was only so much disapproving sharp smacks and stinging comments about upholding the family honor once school starts that he could take. She had been slightly more considerate after Neville had finally shown signs that he was, in fact, a wizard and not a squib, but that attitude quickly disappeared to be replaced by even more firm reprimandings of not tarnishing the Longbottom name. Neville had a feeling the total opposite would happen. Maybe even on the first day. He always seemed to disappoint people. There was a croak at his side as if to reaffirm the statement.
Hunching in on himself, Neville just knew that making friends in the incoming school year would be difficult. The pureblood children that knew him either wanted nothing to do with him or were entirely indifferent toward him, both of which don't bode too well for him. And speaking with Muggleborns were hardly an option since he was too shy and soft-spoken to flag down their attentions. He sighed deeply when he received an answering croak.
Glancing up when he heard a whispered exclamation of awe, Neville could see a boy about his own age gazing around Hogsmeade with no small amount of wonder in his eyes. Neville briefly wondered if the boy was a Muggleborn, observing the over-the-top admiration he was displaying. His head was a mess of dark curls that seemed to be fighting with each other, sticking every which way even though there wasn't any wind to muss it up. He possessed pale skin, though the kind that warranted pride instead of self-consciousness like Neville's own chalky complexion. Neville couldn't quite see the color of the other boy's eyes from the distance, but he could tell that a pair of thin-wired frames rested on his face.
Neville quickly averted his gaze should be get caught staring at a stranger, another one of Gran's rules that he had once again broken.
Neville sat quietly on the cold wooden bench, the chill of the early September air gently ghosting over his cheeks and nose, turning them into a pink rosy color. Tugging the woolen cap over his ears, he figured that the Sorting Ceremony was the main source of his anxiety. His parents were both Gryffindors, so it was too be expected that he would end up as one as well. Anything less would be unacceptable. But he was everything but brave. A coward, scaredy-cat, afraid of his own shadow. He gripped the edge of the bench tightly, fingernails digging into the wood and making crescent-shaped marks. His gran wasn't proud of him. His uncle wasn't proud of him. Would his parents be? Neville bit his bottom lip as his eyes watered dangerously. He sniffled and blinked his eyes furiously. He wasn't going to cry. Crying showed weakness, and Gryffindors don't show weakness. Neville let out an exhausted huff, clearing his throat softly.
It was oddly silent at Hogsmeade. Then again, it was a small village but the people there more than made up for it. It seemed that everything about this place exuded a warm, homely atmosphere. Wait, it was quiet now?
Neville whipped his head to the right, and as he had feared, Trevor was no longer sitting innocently by his side. He let out an exclamation as he jumped to his feet, frantically searching for his toad. Gran would be annoyed if she found out he lost Trevor…again. His heart pounding in panic, Neville crouched down and looked under the bench before snapping upright, searching around the nearby area.
"Where could he be?" Neville muttered to himself, cheeks now flushing with worry instead of a reaction from the cold.
"Hello?" Neville looked up, shocked. It was the boy from before, the one that had stared up appreciatively at the displayed broomsticks. Neville turned around before facing the stranger once more, pointing to himself, doubting that the other meant to talk to him.
"Yes, you," he smiled, looking amused at Neville's behavior. "Is this your toad?" Here, he held up the pudgy amphibian, cradled snuggly in his hands as if it were a small pup. Trevor had the audacity to blink lazily at him before letting out a loud ribbit.
Neville lit up in excitement. "Yes, yes, that's my toad. Thank you! I've been looking everywhere for him."
He reached out and took him from the boy's hands.
"I'm Harry. What's your name?" Neville startled at the question. He had half-expected the boy, now Harry, to leave after his task had been fulfilled. A tentative hope bloomed in his chest. Harry looked like a fellow first year if his height was to go by anything. If he was nice enough to give Neville back his toad, maybe they could be friends?
"Neville," he replied. A silence followed his words and he tried to quickly think of a way to keep the conversation going.
"So, um," Neville began awkwardly, "are you going to Hogwarts, too?"
"Hogwarts?" Harry smoothed his hair against his forehead, drawing Neville's eyes to the spot instinctively. "I would like to go there one day, if my parents let me."
"Oh," Neville couldn't quite mask his disappointment at those words.
"But I think I can convince my parents to let me go. They went to Hogwarts, so I'm sure they would want me to see it at least once."
"Okay, that's good," Neville didn't know what else to say. Well, there goes the theory that Harry was a Muggleborn.
"You know, this is my first time at Hogsmeade," Harry said out of the blue.
"Really?" Neville's brow crinkled. If both Harry's parents were wizards, why didn't they ever take him here? It was a pretty common attraction to anyone in the area.
"Yeah, it's better than anything I've ever imagined," Harry breathed out. Just then, all the street lamps and house lights lit up, creating a line of glowing, bright light, casting an almost ethereal effect on the village. Neville could hear the hitched breath by his side. He couldn't blame Harry for his breathless state though. Daytime at Hogsmeade, while beautiful in its own right, couldn't compare to its state at dusk.
"Just wait until you see it at night," Neville said, smiling to himself.
From across the street, the two could see a man serving ice cream to a young couple sitting by the parlor.
"I've never had ice cream," Neville heard Harry say. "My cousin always ate it, but I never got to try any."
He looked wistfully at the sundae as the couple dug in with gusto. Neville bit his lip, feeling the urge to go by two cones for Harry and himself, but sadly, as a child, he possessed no money of his own.
"I have a chocolate frog," Neville said, reaching into his pocket and presenting it to Harry, trying to find a way to somehow appease his new friend.
"Oh, you don't have to."
"No, no, take it. I get these all the time," Neville didn't have to tell Harry that this was the last one his uncle snuck him since Gran absolutely forbid sweets in her home.
"Thanks," Harry finally relented, gazing at the wrapper before smiling. "I never tried these, either."
He pocketed the candy, and the two sat in companionable silence. Neville quickly lost track of time, not knowing how long they sat there before Harry spoke again.
"My parents are here," he said, hopping down from the bench. A young couple strode forward. Harry's mom, a pretty woman with long red hair, was holding hands with another person, a handsome grinning man. The two were both beautiful and happy. As Harry rushed forward to hug them, Neville wondered if this was what his parents looked like back when they were still fine. If this was what his family could have been like.
"Harry, how was your day?" the woman smiled lovingly at him.
"It was fun, better than I could have possibly imagined."
"And who's your friend?" the man asked.
"This is Neville." Three sets of eyes turned on him, and Neville flinched at the sudden attention.
The woman's eyebrows turned down for a moment before she smiled again.
"Longbottom? Oh, I wish Alice and Frank were here to see you."
"You knew," Neville cleared his throat when his voice cracked, "You knew my parents?"
"Of course, the bravest people I ever met," the man said, shooting him a grin that didn't really meet his eyes.
"Do you think they'd—," Neville cut himself off. Do you think they'd be proud of me?
The woman reached out and hugged him, as if she knew what he was thinking. Neville felt his eyes grow teary. Was this how a mother's hug felt like? His gran never hugged him, refusing to baby him in any sense. He had always wondered what it would feel like. He couldn't remember his mother's hugs anymore.
"Lily, it's time for us to go," James said. She pulled back, ruffling Neville's hair affectionately before she stood up, reaching out her hand to Harry expectantly. Harry immediately grabbed it, smiling happily at the contact.
Harry waved to him. "Bye, Neville! Thanks for the gift. It's my first ever present from a friend."
Neville froze as he registered those words, watching the backs of the family walk away. Friend. He had a friend.
He resisted the sudden anxious need to call Harry back. Neville had a strange sort of dread building up in his stomach, like Harry would disappear and never come back. He brushed it off as newfound clinginess since Harry was his first friend. Harry will show up at the Sorting Ceremony. They would both get sorted into Gryffindor, but it was fine if Harry was in any other house, though it would make things much easier if they were in the same one, and be the best friends ever. Neville suddenly couldn't wait for the school term to start.
But he never did see Harry again.
Neville was disappointed when he looked through the line of first-years and didn't see the striking pair of emerald eyes in any of the students.
It wasn't until later when the Headmaster announced to the whole school that Harry Potter was dead.
Neville had stared disbelievingly at Dumbledore before his hands started shaking, jittering so much that he had to fiercely fold them on his lap. No. That was a different Harry. His Harry was still alive. His Harry was small, ordinary, his friend who wasn't at all an esteemed hero that would have brushed him off as worthless. Harry was a common name. Yes, his Harry was still alive and coming to Hogwarts soon.
Neville stared out the Astronomy Tower, taking in the chaotic remains of the Hogwarts grounds. It was finally over. Voldemort was defeated, and now, he could finally get some much needed rest. Of course, there was work to be done tomorrow. But right now, all he wanted was to collapse in his bed. He didn't have to worry about waking up early to learn some new defensive spells or staying all night trying to figure out the last of the hocruxes. It was all over and he could finally sleep. Luna will be there to wake him up, but he highly doubted anyone would be awake until noon at the very least.
When he turned to make his way down the stairs, a voice called out to him. Neville whipped around, wand at the ready, only to see a small, familiar boy standing before him, staring up with bright emerald eyes.
"You look different," Harry remarked, taking his seventeen year old form.
"And you haven't changed at all," Neville replied. The boy was still the same as ever, even in the same clothes that he had last seen him in.
He had wondered all this time why Harry had never shown up at Hogwarts but he had only recently figured out the reason.
"You're a ghost, aren't you?"
"Let me tell you a little story about a small boy who wanted nothing more than to see his parents but managed to change his destiny."
When young Harry Potter checked through the mail one day, he never expected to find a letter addressed to him. To him! A good-for-nothing freak! Excitement tumbled off him in waves. But his aunt and uncle would have none of it, snatching the letter away and ripping it to little pieces. That didn't stop the letters from coming though, and soon, the house was flooded with letters, all addressed to him.
His aunt and uncle grew fearful with each passing day before they decided to move the family away, onto a little island surrounded by crashing waves. That night was Harry Potter's eleventh birthday. But just an hour before he officially turned eleven, little Harry who was given the task of lugging the suitcases filled to the brim with clothes to the shack, and since there was only just the dim light of their new housing to guide the way, he didn't see the edge of the cliff.
Harry Potter never lived to turn eleven.
But when he crashed into the cold waters, Death asked him a question.
Do you choose to live, Harry Potter? Or do you choose to die? it asked him.
All Harry wanted to do was to see his parents. And so, his choice was fulfilled.
Death granted him one wish after his death. And Harry said that he wanted to experience a day on Earth with his parents.
That was when he met a boy his age who later became his friend. Although Harry was sad to go, he knew that he had to. What he didn't know was that this was the boy whose life he had ruined.
Harry watched as the young boy fought against the Dark Lord, winning each time. He watched as the boy witnessed a student's death, when his best friend was kidnapped, when the boy had to grow up into a man.
On the day of the Final Battle, Harry knew that the man would not survive, so he begged and begged Death to grant him one more wish, to trade in the horcrux Harry still had inside him for Neville's life. Because when he died, Death had told Harry that he died too soon, that he shouldn't have taken his life, that he could have still lived. Death relented and didn't reap Neville's life, and Harry was happy because his friend could finally be able to live and not just survive.
"And so the boy stands here today, years after making his promise, to ask for the man's forgiveness because in return for having his selfish wish granted, he had shoved his destiny onto another boy. And he is sorry," Harry bowed his head, shoulders heaving as he sobbed.
"Harry, it's all right," Neville tried to reason.
"No," Harry shook his head furiously, "this was supposed to be my job, but I pushed it onto you. I'm sorry."
Neville opened his arms and immediately Harry dove into them. Neville shivered at the sudden temperature change, hesitantly resting his hands above Harry's shoulders.
"Thank you for watching over me."
"I'll always be watching over you," Neville heard him mutter, "because you're my friend."