Written for the Random and Crazy Challenge.
Prompt # 131 Neville, The-Boy-Who-Lived.
This is a short one-shot
The Choice
The wind rustled the leaves as the lone cloaked figure walked around the perimeter of the heavily warded and concealed house. He almost wished things were easier. How easy his life would have been if he had chosen that Potter brat. The supposedly tight knit friendship of the father and his posse was legendary. How would they feel to know that their little beady eyed friend was already his? It would have been a simple matter of twisting the knife and the rat would have squealed the Potter's safe house. Alas, Severus had convinced him that the Longbottom's were the most likely candidate. After all, there was a century of strong magical blood flowing through the young toddlers' body.
He, the great Lord Voldemort, was reduced to searching for any weaknesses in the wards. He smiled as he abruptly stopped. It was right here, the little tell that proved that Dumbledore was the wizard to cast them. He had a tendency to leave himself a back door opening, if you will. He chuckled, his voice as dry as the leaves that he crushed beneath his feet.
It was November second, two days after his target day. It was fine though. Samhain would have made a better statement. He wasn't going to wait until the next auspicious day. He didn't want to waste this chance he was gifted.
He flicked his wand at the door, watching it as it slammed open, terror on the face of the man in front of him. Glee filled Voldemort as he saw the young boy playing on the floor.
"Not Neville, Please. Kill me, take me instead!" Frank yelled in terror, trying to block his son with his own body.
He shrugged his shoulders. How could he resist when the man begged for it? It was a shame though, such a powerful pureblood. What a waste.
"Avada Kedavra." He whispered moments before Frank's body hit the floor.
He turned his wand to Neville's face. He paused only for a moment before sending the curse at the child that would change his whole entire life.
He heard screaming as his body was ripped apart. He couldn't tell if it was his own or someone else's. For that one moment, Tom Riddle was nothing. He was in the white space of death, before his mind returned to his incorporeal form. He couldn't bear to look upon the child who brought about his downfall. If it took him the entirety of the boys' life, Voldemort would rip him apart. His biggest threat, a toddler named Neville Longbottom.
3
"Your father would be proud of you, Neville." Alice Longbottom said. She was fussing around him as he prepared to board the train that was Hogwarts bound for the first time.
"Thanks Mum." He said as the whispers reached his ears.
"Look, its Neville Longbottom, the boy who lived." They all said. Neville gulped as Alice brought him in for a hug.
Neville dragged his trunk to the train trying to heave it up into overhead compartment.
"Good luck, Dear!" Alice yelled as Neville waved from his seat. A bossy, bushy haired, Muggleborn girl walked into the compartment.
"Is this seat taken?" She asked.
"No."
"I am Hermione Granger. And you are?"
"Neville Longbottom."
"It's nice to meet you, Neville." She smiled at him. He was relieved, perhaps it wouldn't be as terrible as he thought it would be.