"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..." (OotP pg 841/741)
Had Voldemort chosen Neville, it would be Neville sitting opposite Harry bearing the lightning-shaped scar and the weight of the prophecy. . . . Or would it? Would Neville's mother have died to save him, as Lily had died for Harry? Surely she would. . . . But what if she had been unable to stand between her son and Voldemort? Would there then have been no "Chosen One" at all? (HBP pg 139/133)
The prophecy did not come to pass. Voldemort did not lose, and Harry was not the boy who lived. Both the Wizarding and Muggle worlds were still in vast and imminent danger. Hogwarts, even in such disparaging times educated its pure-blood and muggle-born youth. Slytherin house's very own fourth year, Ellie Harper, may be an heir to Salazar, but she never held to his insipid ideologies.
Ellie Harper and The Boy Who Didn't Live
Prologue
The weather was fine for a mid-winter's day. The trees of the Forbidden Forest swayed beneath the force of their own magic, for not even a light wind was present. The owls emerged from above their canopies and whisked by Ellie, likely bent on the Great Hall. Hers was a scruffy and plump, burrowing owl that she had named "Augustus the Burrower." Undoubtedly, the binny still lazed about in his magical burrow that Ellie had placed at the bottom of her trunk. He didn't take much to post life.
"Oh, don't get a burrower," the manager at Eeylops had instructed during her first year rounds. "They fly twice as slow and have half the brains."
"Fine by me." Ellie had displayed her coyest smile of the day to the manager. "I need a friend, not a post."
No one sent Ellie mail, and she found no problem with it. She preferred to be left alone to her studies, just as her parents preferred to be left alone to their work.
They were a family of Slytherins, after all. Ones that were "related to the great Salazar, at that!" her father would bark throughout her childhood. Ambitious, cunning, and logical: Slytherins were the pride of the Wizarding race. In fact, it was her particular family line that was the most revered of all Salazar's descendants, because their line remained true to his pure-blood ideologies—and to his name.
However, all pure-blooded Ellie Harper Slytherin ever wanted to be was at the top of her class, and a literature major.
She had no interest in the insipid and outdated ideologies of her ancestors, nor did she have any interest in the black envelope that now lay at her feet.
Augustus hooed at Ellie, and she merely blinked.
"Augustus!" she whisper-yelled. "Now where did you get this?"
She picked it up, noting it's small size and sharp edges. If Augustus had brought it to her… then perhaps it did not come from outside Hogwarts?
"A love letter?" murmured Ellie. She rolled her eyes at the thought while peeling back the snake-like seal.
As she did, the letter flew upwards and unfolded itself.
"Hello, Ellie Harper Slytherin." A sinister voice emanated from the parchment, and her breath hitched. No one here—save the headmaster—knew her full name. Always, simply, "Harper," so as to keep the rest out of gossip. But another reason she sat stunned was because it spo—"It is time. Leave Hogwarts and join the chosen heir… to fulfill your greater purpose."
The letter instantly burned itself up in black smoke, and the ashes scattered the dying grass at her feet. Augustus the Burrower tilted his head back and forth—peering at her.
Who could that letter have come from? Ellie thought as her heart thumped horribly against her chest. Who else but…
She shook her head, replaying the language of the letter.
He was on the only other rumored to speak Parseltongue.