Neville was the child of prophecy; however he died that night, leaving Voldemort undefeatable…surely not?
THE LEADER OF THE HOUSE
Thump. The dumbbells landed on the cushioned workout floor as Harry doubled over, exhausted from his conditioning training.
"Remind me why I have to do weights again when the guy trying to kill me has barely lifted his hand other than to kill in like, 20 years?" Harry wheezed out, sweat cascading off his thin, wiry frame.
"There is more to a wizard duel-"
"Than just magic, yeah I know, I didn't expect an actual answer you know," interrupted Harry, he was always short after conditioning training, most people would be, especially if they had the same trainer as Harry
"Now now, that's no way to talk to your father is it?" asked the trainer, his mocking tone further fuelling the bad mood that Harry was in.
"You're not in this boat alone, son,"
Harry turned to his left to see his mother, thoroughly exhausted as well, but with a smile, most probably due to the familiar banter that seemed to always occur between her two boys.
"Yeah, you're right, dad," said Harry, a defeated look on his face.
"Hah!" cried a smiling James, visibly happy, having guilted his son into a pseudo apology "I knew I could do it," said James, Harry turned around, just in time to see his mother hand over a silver sickle to his father
"Oh real nice, guys," pouted Harry, although this did not last very long and soon his face matched the grins that had already found their way onto his parents faces. Harry joined his mother on the floor and had, what was in his opinion, a well deserved rest.
Harry Potter was about as normal as any young wizard born with Voldemort at large. He was average height, of average build and achieved average grades. He lived a pretty good life, in his opinion, if you discount the constant, nagging fear that Voldemort or any of his followers, which, by the way, could be anyone, thanks to the Imperius curse, could be on his doorstep, looking for anything from gold, to sex, to murder, and on most occasions, all three. And not always in that order. Because of that, almost everywhere in the wizarding world was unsuitable for anyone against Voldemort to make a living, resulting in many extraordinary people doing rather ordinary jobs, in the muggle world. James and Lily Potter, or Tom and Jane Smith, as they were known to the muggle government, where two of those people; James a personal trainer, and Lily a chef. They blended in with the mainstream world, their wizarding identities hidden from the world, only a select few in the Order of the Phoenix knowing their exact location.
James Potter used to have a job in the ministry, but he had to resign after Voldemort made it clear that he would not allow anyone to work without complete loyalty, something James was obviously not able to do. This resulted in his integration with the muggle world, after faking their own deaths, at the hands of Death Eaters. Most of the Order had used this method to protect themselves from a life on the run, after the Death Eaters managed exploit the Fidelus charm, destroying many good members, including, but not limited to, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, the latter's death resulting in a crucial breakdown in negotiations between werewolves and the light side. Not that the light side had much chance. Voldemort's influence had spread over the whole of the country, with the exception of Hogwarts, not that he hadn't tried. Voldemort had done everything shot of a full on assault of the castle to gain control, stopping short only due to the ineptitude of his former servants. Failure was not well received by Lord Voldemort. Hogwarts would soon be his though, once his plans had come to fruition, and once he had the final piece of the puzzle, he would venture outward, with the intention of making everyone know the name Lord Voldemort.
Voldemort strode purposefully over the threshold of the Longbottom house. He knew he was going to tighten his grip on England with his actions tonight. Snape had been on his death list for failing to bring him anything noteworthy in his time as a Death Eater, but this piece of information was more valuable than Snape could ever imagine. Snape would be rewarded after this no doubt, as Voldemort rewarded a good source of information almost as much he rewarded loyalty. He did not care whether the Longbottoms had prepared for his arrival. Snape had made it very clear that the prophecy was made to Dumbledore, who had known ties to the Longbottoms, so it was plausible the fool may have warned them. He removed the front door from its hinges, sending its flying into the cramped house. The door caught the man, sending him spinning into the fireplace, his life snuffed out in an instant
"Silencio," said Voldemort, almost lazily, with a flick of his wand in the direction of the woman in the room. She hadn't even drawn her wand. He mentally scoffed. Killing this woman would be an insult to his wand. He moved towards the crib, hidden just out of sight, only noticeable from the noise it was emitting. The woman by now had retrieved her wand and was sending spell after spell at the Dark Lord, none of which did a thing to halt his progress towards her son. He met the child's eyes. He hissed. He raised his wand. There room was bathed in the green light, and the baby was gone, the life in its eyes gone, absorbed by his own red ones. He turned and left the house, leaving Nagini to continue her dinner now that his job was done. He stopped short of the gate. Another hiss and his pet arrived at his ankles. And with a pop they were both gone.
Voldemort was certainly ruthless with his enemies. He had long forgone actively searching for them; he knew their numbers were so insignificant that they were solely an unpleasant spot on the masterpiece that was the Dark Lord's England. And he could live with a spot or two. He had long since killed the supposed 'greatest threat' to his reign, forgetting the child's name the instant the light faded from his eyes. He relished killing children. Dumbledore was an old man now, his magic barely able to dent the armoury that he, the greatest wizard ever, had surrounded himself with; only able to hang onto Hogwarts by the failings of his servants, so he had no true rival, no one even close to being on par with himself, so he found his joys in killing children. Adults made too much noise dying. His followers loved torturing before killing, but after more or less 30 years at the top, begging became annoying. Children didn't beg. They couldn't. Some cried, other simple looked, wide eyed at their fate, but the rush from killing something so defenceless was almost as thrilling as killing a rival.
Harry finished his breakfast and headed for the shower, ready to pack his things for the Hogwarts Express. He was in his last year at Hogwarts, but he mainly kept to himself, barely making any friends. This wasn't anything unusual. Trust killed with Voldemort around, and most people, at the end of the day, want to live. So Harry packed his things away, trips to Diagon Alley for books had long since been eradicated from the general population's itinerary. Most of the shops had 'moved' anyway, the once bustling centre of commerce had now been taken over by its neighbour, Knockturn Alley, so Harry and the rest of the students at Hogwarts received their books at school from the local merchants and stores that had relocated to Hogsmeade.
Five minutes after Harry left the shower, he was done with his packing, ready for the trip to King's Cross. Everything was done very succinctly in these dark times, the days of parents waving, hugging, crying over the children leaving the nest were ruthlessly stamped out after Neville Longbottom died.
Most of England had not tied the fact that Neville died on Halloween, 17 years earlier, to the escalation of terror, but those in the know, the few who were privy to the full story, put two and two together. That full story, which even Voldemort doesn't know to this day, may be the tinniest glimmer of hope in an otherwise dank and dreary existence.
Harry returned to the kitchen to find his mum washing up. He liked the fact that even though his mother was magical, she still held onto her inherent muggle-ness. It was a constant reminder to Harry that there was more to this world than magic.
"You finished packing, Harry?" asked his mum, without taking her eyes off the sink, hearing the thud of a bag hitting the floor
"Yeah, when are we heading out again?" enquired Harry, his hand absentmindedly running through his messy hair
"In about 20 minutes," said Lily, drying the final piece of crockery and placing it in the cupboard.
"Alright I'll be outside, gimme a shout when your ready," said Harry, halfway up the stairs. Lily sighed, knowing fully well that Harry was most probably on his broomstick, flying around the house. It wasn't entirely safe for him to do it, but Lily and James had decided that as much as they wanted to, they couldn't wrap their son in cotton wool. James entered the kitchen and saw that pensive look on his wife's face, along with the mild whoosh of a broomstick and realised what his wife was thinking of
"He's done alright, considering," said James, an arm finding its way around Lily
"Yeah," Lily sighed, leaning into the embrace "I just wish-"
"Me too Lils, me too" said James, squeezing her briefly and then making his way upstairs to get ready for the trip to King's Cross
Dumbledore sat in his office, his demeanour rather laid back; as if what he was about to discuss were as trivial as the weather.
"I understand what I'm about to tell you may come as a surprise, considering everything that you have been told previously" He began, maintaining his laid back demeanour "But I need you to tell your son everything I'm about to tell you right now, however, he cannot know its from me, that point I cannot stress enough" James Potter looked to his wife and newborn son in her arms
"And when exactly are we supposed to tell Harry whatever this is?" asked Lily, confusion etched on her face
"Harry, how fitting" Dumbledore muttered, almost to himself "You will tell Harry this the summer he turns 17. He must be 17 when you tell him, telling him before hand will be detrimental to his development" Dumbledore paused to survey his 2 guests. They seemed confused, yet willing to listen. "Harry is going to play a vital role in rebuilding the wizarding world once Voldemort has been destroyed" Dumbledore allowed the weight of his words to seep into the young couple
"So who will be the one to kill Voldemort, we know he got to the little Longbottom" said James, screwing up his face at the last words
"Yes, unfortunately the Longbottoms were killed by Lord Voldemort himself just yesterday, but he was acting on false information. I believe, and I strongly suggest you agree with me" A wry smile briefly forming on his face "That Voldemort has been acting under the false information or rather misinformation. This is important because Voldemort has methods of finding out the truth far worse than we can imagine, and if he has succumbed to false information then either he is not as powerful he has made himself out to be or he has simply got careless" Dumbledore paused again for effect, taking in a rather unnecessary breath. When he continued, he was no longer laid back; his eyes twinkled with the seed of an idea. "I believe that it is the latter, and the effect of this overconfidence will be his downfall"
"So what has this got to do with Harry" asked James, his confusion mirrored in Lily's face
"In a word, nothing, and that is why he will prosper, for Voldemort is no longer as motivated as he once was, for he feels he has no true rival" Dumbledore said, leaning forward on his desk, his wrinkled face alive with the plan he had concocted
"I'm still confused as how my Harry is involved in any of this" asked Lily, gently rocking the baby boy in her arms
"Harry will lead a group of like minded individuals to the destruction of Lord Voldemort!" Dumbledore spoke, his eyes wild "Harry has the potential to be far stronger than anyone the Dark Lord could even imagine"
"But how could you know that" James interrupted "He's barely a few months old!"
"That, you will have to take my word on, some things are better left unknown" Dumbledore paused
"So he's the real chosen one, not the Longbottom boy?" asked James, his confusion rapidly becoming anger
"Ah, that, we cannot be sure of. I can only say he will lead a group that will take down Voldemort. Whether it is he or someone else that deliver the blow that rids the world of Voldemort, I cannot say, but when he is of age, you will see yourself that what I'm saying is not far from the truth" Dumbledore finished, his chin resting on his steepled fingers, eyes twinkling all the while
"And we're supposed to take your word on all of this?" asked Lily.
Dumbledore smiled. "That would be nice, yes". "Now if you don't mind" Dumbledore said, motioning towards the door "I have pressing matters to attend to" Dumbledore stood, shaking James' hand and smiling at Lily, watching the young family leave his office. Dumbledore turned his back on the closing door and sighed. This really was the worst part bout seeing the big picture; no matter what, someone was going to end up collateral damage
"Harry" called James, looking over to his wife for support, which he received, as always. He really had been fortunate that she let him into his life, something that he never let her forget
"Yes dad" called Harry from the top of the stairs
"I need you downstairs" said James; his son really could be a teenager sometimes. Harry took the steps down 2 at a time, to find himself in the living room, with his mum on the sofa, dad standing.
"What's going on?" asked Harry, reading that something was amiss from the less than jovial faces that looked almost alien on his normally happy parents
"Harry, we need to tell you something, and we need you to believe us"