The Other Boy
"My Lord," a voice whispered.
Voldemort looked up. One of his Death Eaters (he couldn't be bothered to remember the recent addition's name) was hovering in the doorway, rocking back and forth over the threshold.
"Come in," he said in his high, cold voice. He beckoned to the timid Death Eater, who stepped forward.
"My Lord, Severus Snape has come to pay you a call," said the Death Eater, bowing stiffly.
"Let him in."
A shadow moved in the doorway, and Severus emerged. "My Lord," he acknowledged, bending in a deep bow.
"Come in, Severus."
Snape entered the study, kneeling in front of Voldemort, and began to speak in a hurried voice.
"My Lord, I –" he began, but Voldemort held up a hand for silence.
"You are dismissed," he said to the Death Eater at the door. The wizard hovered, then bowed and turned, his footsteps receding down the hallway. Voldemort turned back to Severus.
"Continue."
He watched Severus closely over the tips of his fingers. Nagini was slithering at his feet, hissing as she coiled and uncoiled around the legs of his chair.
"I have heard – terrible things, my Lord," Severus whispered. "A prophecy – I am sure of it."
"What did you hear, Severus?" Voldemort asked quietly.
Severus swallowed and began to recount his story. "I was in the Hogs Head and – Dumbledore, with the new Divination professor – she said –" He took a deep breath. "I memorized her words, my Lord. She said, '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...'" Severus swallowed nervously.
Voldemort was silent. What did it mean? Was he to fall so close to his time of victory? Would he never reach the power he was meant to have?
But no...there was a way to prevent what the prophecy foretold...
"My Lord," Severus whispered from his kneeling position. His eyes were wide with fear. "The prophecy – what do you believe it means?"
"There is only one person to whom the prophecy can refer, Severus," said Voldemort calmly.
"Who?" Severus choked out, his pulse jumping in his throat.
"Neville Longbottom."
Severus visibly relaxed. "The Longbottom boy? Forgive me, my Lord – why do you believe he is the one the prophecy speaks of?"
"'Born to those who have thrice defied him,'" Voldemort quoted, his fingers stroking Nagini's head as she came up from beneath the table, her tongue flicking in the air. "'Born as the seventh month dies...' There is no doubt at all in my mind, Severus."
"What will you do, my Lord?" Severus whispered, barely audible.
"It seems the Longbottoms will be receiving a visit soon," Voldemort replied softly. "A visit from an old friend..."
"Pettigrew," Snape spat. "My Lord, forgive me, but he seems far too cowardly to even consider."
"He will get the job done," Voldemort said in a clear voice. "I have trust in him."
"But not in me, my Lord?" said Severus, a hint of thinly veiled hurt in his voice. "I could find the Longbottoms instead –"
"You are my most faithful follower," Voldemort said calmly. "I will not risk you on something so frivolous as this."
Snape relaxed. "Thank you, my Lord."
"I will need time to think," said Voldemort softly.
"I will leave you, my Lord," Severus replied, rising from his kneel.
"Soon," Voldemort said, so quietly that Severus missed it, "soon the world will be mine."
"Come here, Neville," Alice cooed, picking up her son. He giggled and blew a raspberry at her, and she frowned. "That's not very nice, darling," she said, tweaking his nose. "Is it? Is it, Neville?"
"He'll never learn to talk if you keep up the baby-speak," said a voice from the doorway.
Alice turned, still holding the squirming Neville. "Frank," she sighed, a smile stretching across her lips.
He came into the light, smiling at his son, who had begun to babble, "Da, da, da, da..."
"Who was in the fire?" Alice asked in an anxious, low voice.
Frank smiled at her, relieving her of Neville, who had begun to tug on her hair. "No one to worry about." She relaxed, letting go of a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. "Peter Pettigrew was wondering if he could stop by. Order business," he added quietly.
"Goodness, we haven't seen Peter since we left school," said Alice fondly. "He was the chubby little bloke, wasn't he? Always running after James Potter and his gang! Well, it'll be nice to see him, at any rate," she sighed, joy draining out of her. "I'm so sick of being stuck in this house all the time –"
"You know why we have to stay here," said Frank quietly. "Dumbledore thinks Voldemort will come after us."
"Yes, but Dumbledore always thinks someone's trying to kill someone else," said Alice irritably, pushing her hair out of her face. "When is Peter coming by?" she asked.
She hoped he wouldn't notice the change of topic, but judging by his frown, he did. Nevertheless, he answered, "He said he'd be here by nine. He'll pop his head in the fireplace to tell us when he's coming so we can lower the protective charms."
Alice glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. "It's already a quarter till! And poor Neville's missed his bedtime..."
"I'll take him up," Frank offered, but Alice shook her head.
"You know how he is," she said with a faint smile. "He won't go to bed unless I put him down."
"He's already a Mummy's boy, isn't he?" said Frank fondly, ruffling Neville's hair.
"No!" Neville declared, and Frank and Alice laughed.
"In denial already, Neville?" Frank teased. "I don't think that'll bode well for you in the future."
Neville looked like he wanted to say something else, but yawned instead.
"Bedtime," Alice reminded him, and, too sleepy to argue, Neville curled into his mother's embrace.
"Tell Peter I'll be down in a few minutes," she told Frank, and he nodded, mirroring Neville's yawn as he tossed his wand on the couch.
There was the soft creaking of the staircase as Alice carried Neville up, and her voice murmuring unintelligible but soothing words to him. Frank yawned again and stood up, stretching as he glanced toward the window –
And froze.
The gate was creaking open; the charms on the house should have prevented anyone from entering that way. And yet, someone in dark robes with the hood drawn was gliding up the driveway, and as Frank watched, the figure drew a slender stick from inside his robes.
Frank tripped over a chair as he ran for the door, his heart leaping into his throat. "ALICE!" he bellowed. "IT'S A TRAP! DON'T COME DOWN – DON'T –"
He cursed as he skidded to a halt in front of the door. The locks were unbolting themselves, sliding apart. Frank thrust his hand into his pocket, but his wand was gone –
The door opened.
For the fourth time in his life, Frank found himself face to face with the darkest wizard of their time – except this time, he was defenseless. He could only hope to hold off Voldemort before –
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The green light barreled toward him, and in the second before it hit him, a single face flashed before his eyes:
Neville.
I'm so sorry, he thought, and then the light collided with him and he crumpled.
No, Alice thought, fighting back tears as she clutched Neville to her chest. No. Not Frank.
But she had heard the words, heard that awful curse...and no one had ever survived.
Biting back a sob, Alice set Neville in his cot and picked up her wand, bewitching objects around the room to barricade the door. She could hear footsteps ascending the stairs and her heartbeat quickened.
He forced the door open as if pushing aside a feather. The things she had piled against the door collapsed into dust as he entered the room.
She had never wanted to see that face again, not after the last time. Never again.
But she knew she had to face him once more.
"Leave him alone," she said, her voice shaking. "Please, leave Neville be."
He laughed, and Alice shivered, suppressing a gasp. His laugh was far more frightening than his anger; it was wild and uncontrolled, high, and as clear and cold as ice.
"No – don't – please!"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Please, she thought again, and then there was nothing more to think.
She crumpled to the ground, senseless.
And Voldemort turned his wand on Neville. The baby was sitting up, staring at the stranger as if he would recognise him somehow. His lip began to tremble, he opened his mouth to cry –
Voldemort's lip curled.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
And the boy who was to be his downfall fell, the room illuminating green as the windows shattered with the sheer force of the spell.
Laughing madly, Voldemort glided across the room to the open window and pointed his wand out of it. "Morsmordre," he hissed, and the great, acid-green serpent exploded from his wand to twist itself into the Dark Mark.
"Let it be known," said Voldemort quietly, "that on this night, the Dark Lord was proven invincible. Let it be known that he who challenges the Dark Lord will fall.
"Let it be known."
"You've got your owl?" said Lily anxiously. "And your trunk and everything?"
"Yes, Mum," said Harry, rolling his eyes as he lifted the cage with the snowy white owl inside it. The owl hooted angrily, and Harry cast it a sideways grin. He was already wearing his brand new Hogwarts robes, and his green eyes glinted mischievously behind his round glasses. "Why are you so worried, anyway?" he added carelessly. "It's just Hogwarts."
Her smile fell slightly. "You'll be careful, won't you?" she said, her voice lower. "I know what your father and I have told you about our days at Hogwarts –"
"Oh, yeah!" said Harry, grinning. "Like how Dad made that secret map with Sirius and Remus and Peter, and how –"
"Let's not shout about the secret map in public," said James, hastily clamping a hand over Harry's mouth. Harry struggled, but his eyes showed that he was laughing as his father trapped him in a half-nelson.
"Really, though, Harry," said Lily quietly, crouching in front of him so that they were eye-level. "Things have changed since then. You need to be careful."
"I'll be fine, Mum," said Harry reassuringly. "I don't know what you're so fussed about, really."
A whistle sounded as James and Lily exchanged a look, and students began boarding the train. "Well, have a good year, then," James said finally, ruffling Harry's already untidy hair.
"Da-ad," Harry complained, running his fingers through his hair. "I actually combed it today!"
"You wouldn't be able to tell from the looks of it," James teased, and Harry rolled his eyes.
"Write us telling us which house you got into," Lily reminded him, straightening up as James heaved Harry's trunk into a compartment.
"Oh, please," scoffed Harry with a flip of his hand. "I'll be in Gryffindor, like you two were."
"And you'll be home for Christmas, don't forget," Lily added as the train began to move. "And write us once a week, tell us –"
"Bye, Mum!" Harry shouted as the train picked up speed, and Lily fell back, smiling as she waved to Harry.
The train rounded the corner and Lily sighed. "There he goes. Off to Hogwarts." She looked at James. "Does this make us old?"
"Well, it's not too late to try for another," James joked, and Lily shoved him. He stumbled back, pretending to look hurt, and Lily laughed at him halfheartedly.
"Really, though," she said quietly, her smile fading, "do you think he'll be alright?"
He sobered and put an arm around her shoulders. "I think he'll be just fine. I know things aren't good right now –"
"'Not good'?" Lily repeated wearily. "Let's see – Voldemort's taken over the Ministry and most of the Wizarding World, Muggles and Muggle-borns are dying everywhere, Hogwarts is run by Death Eaters, most of the current classes are –"
"Alright, alright," James interrupted hastily. "Things are a little worse than 'not good.' But that doesn't mean Harry can't still be a kid. We did it, didn't we? I think we had a pretty good run at Hogwarts."
"Voldemort was not nearly as widespread then as he is now, James," Lily reminded him softly. "I'm worried for Harry. The teachers at the school are – awful." She shuddered. "And it's not just him, either – I'm worried for everyone. I mean, Remus hasn't gotten a job in weeks, not since that stupid half-breed legislation was passed. Even Peter's having trouble getting around, and he's a half-blood! And –"
"And you," said James, and Lily looked up.
"What about me?" she said carefully, avoiding his gaze.
"You're a Muggle-born," said James quietly. "You're in danger, too."
"It's not me I'm worried about," Lily said softly. "It's Harry. I don't want him growing up without a mother."
"He won't," said James, pulling her in for a hug. "He'll have everything he'll ever need."
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Perks, Sally-Anne" hopped off the stool and joined her house, the members of which were cheering wildly.
"Potter, Harry!"
This is it, Harry thought, grinning. He strode confidently out of line and slid onto the stool, slipping the hat over his eyes.
"Hmm..." said a small voice in his ear. "Certainly intriguing...intelligence, oh, definitely...but also loyalty and kindness...perhaps some arrogance..."
Hey! Harry thought indignantly, and he swore he could hear a voice chuckle in his ear.
"...and an inability to hold his tongue."
Harry smiled despite himself.
"But where to put you? You would do well in Slytherin, surely..."
No! Harry thought frantically.
"But no, perhaps not...well, then...better be – GRYFFINDOR!"
Grinning madly, Harry yanked the hat off and set it on the stool, dashing down the steps to join his house. They were cheering and shaking his hand, and he felt rather overwhelmed with the happiness of them all.
The Sorting dragged on...the boy Harry had met on the train, Ron Weasley, was sorted into Gryffindor as well, and was met with affection from his three older brothers. He ended up sitting beside Harry as the Sorting concluded, and as Professor McGonagall took the hat and the stool away, the Headmaster stood.
Harry had heard of the Headmaster of Hogwarts – a cunning man, not wholly polite or kind, but intelligent and cold, detached from his students. He had risen to the post of Headmaster six years ago, just after Voldemort had taken control of the Ministry.
"Good evening," said Professor Snape softly, and the hall quieted. Harry grinned at Ron, bouncing on his seat in anticipation.
"Hogwarts is not a school of frivolous fun and silly jokes," Snape began, and the grin melted off of Harry's face.
"In this school, you will learn the skills necessary to serve your government," Snape went on. "You will be taught everything you need to know to be a soldier for the Ministry of Magic. You will learn how to master the Dark Arts, how to punish those who need punishing, how to destroy the Muggles who taint our world."
"My grandparents are Muggles," Harry whispered to Ron. "Surely they can't all be bad?"
Ron shrugged, clearly not paying attention. He seemed as though he were attempting to levitate his fork, to no avail.
"I will leave you to enjoy your feast before I give the start-of-term announcements," said Snape, and he sat back down as the plates filled with food.
"Brilliant," said Ron fervently, and he reached over Harry for an enormous chicken drumstick.
Harry, smiling again, pulled a large steak towards himself.
"Really, though," he said as he sliced a corner of his steak off, "my Mum and Dad were here nearly fifteen years ago. Hogwarts isn't anything like they told me it was going to be."
Ron tried to say something through his mouthful of food, but all Harry could hear was "Ah guh fin hah fanjed zins dun."
"What?"
Ron swallowed his enormous mouthful and repeated, "I guess things have changed since then."
"Well, the most recent version of Hogwarts, a History states that since You-Know-Who rose to power, Hogwarts's classes have changed to include more Dark subjects and also provide a pro-pureblood stance," said a redhead from across the table. "Even my first year we had subjects like Dark Arts and Muggle Studies, although I'm told that years ago, Dark Arts was called Defence Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies was far more objective."
"This is my brother Percy," said Ron, shooting Harry an irritated look. Harry stifled a laugh.
"I don't really care what the classes are like as long as they've got Quidditch," he said, grinning.
"I wouldn't get your hopes up too far," Percy interjected. "There hasn't been a first-year on the team in about a hundred years, and besides, Slytherin always wins the Quidditch Cup."
"We'll see about that," said Harry smugly. "I've been flying since I was about two."
"Really?" said Ron eagerly. "What model do you have?"
And they were off, talking excitedly about Quidditch and all things associated with it.
When they had exhausted themselves and the plates had cleared, Professor Snape stood again.
"You will receive your schedules at breakfast time tomorrow," he said after the announcements on the Forbidden Forest and items not allowed in the hallways (Harry nearly slept through that part). "All first-years should note that Muggle Studies is compulsory. Have a good evening."
"I don't remember my parents talking about Muggle Studies being compulsory," said Harry to Ron as they left the Gryffindor table, following Percy to the tower.
"It must be fairly new," said Ron, shrugging indifferently. He yawned widely. "I'm exhausted..." he said.
Harry murmured something in agreement, but privately, he was feeling rather unsure of Hogwarts, all of a sudden.
Whatever Hogwarts was, it was nothing like he had dreamt.