So this is what would've happened if Voldemort had chosen Neville and not Harry. Neville still lives with his grandmother, his parents having died. Harry lives with Sirius, who was never put in Askaban because Peter Pettigrew never betrayed his parents, and Sirius and Peter never had their throw down.
Prologue
His letter had come, as he knew it would. And as he look down at the read wax seal, he couldn't bare to open it. Wouldn't school just be the same as home life. People congratulating him on his defeat of the dark lord, though he had been just a baby. People sympathetic about this parents, but they had no idea what he felt.
"Neville!" His grandmother yelled. "Neville we've got to get you a wand, new robes, a cauldron and your books. HURRY."
Neville grabbed his knack sack and paraded out. He hated public appearances, and this was no exception. As he walked towards the fireplace, his thigh hit the coffee table he was passing. Cursing under his breath, Neville grabbed a hand full of floo powder.
"Diagon Alley!" He spoke clearly, but grumpily. The fire around him rose in greens and blues. Then he was in the shopping square in London. Wizards in long robes and witches in pointed hats pushed their way through the condensed crowd. Then as he knew it would, it happened.
"Neville Longbottom!" Someone yelled. "Look, it's Neville Longbottom!" People turned from their shopping to stare at him, to stare at the boy who lived.