The Real Reason JK Rowling Didn't Have Voldemort Go After Neville Longbottom

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. Got it? Good.

Inspired by a conversation with sjjunot about how unappreciated Neville is.

Frank had fought valiantly, though in the end, it was not enough. He fell to the Dark Lord's emerald death curse, his last though one of the dying hope that his family would manage to escape.

Alice ran, her infant son clutched to her breast. Tears fell from her eyes as she left her husband behind,. She nearly stumbled as she took the stairs three at a time, mentally cursing herself for not keeping the portkey with her at all times. She remembered taking it off as she rocked her son to sleep, and now she was paying for her mistake.

She was almost there, only another few steps to the nursery, and then a few more to the portkey. She heard the footsteps on the stairs, so much heavier than her husband's had ever been and she wept harder. Running faster... She was at the door, only to have it slam shut in her face. Slowly she turned, facing the most feared wizard of their time, his crimson eyes laughing at her, mocking her grief and her efforts.

"Expelliarmus!" She cried, cradling her child with one arm as she wielded her wand with the other. He batted her spell aside with another, a sickly orange spell that hit the first before coming towards her.

"Protego!" Luckily, the shield held firm.

"Step aside, woman."

"Never! You can't have him!"

"Avada Kadavra" The spell was directed towards the infant in her arms, but, at the last moment, Alice turned her body, shielding her son from the green light in the only way she could. With a scream, and a final thought, Protect my child!, she fell to her death, her infant son still held tightly in her grasp.

The Dark Lord laughed out loud, cold and cruel, as he levitated the woman from the floor. Manipulating her body so that the wide-eyed child in her arms was facing him, he lifted his wand for one final curse, "Avada Kadavra."

The emerald light erupted from the tip of his wand, traveling towards the child, lighting up his face as it hit just below his right eye. Voldemort laughed again, filled with unholy glee at having destroyed the first child of prophecy. He never saw the curse rebound off of the boy, brighter by far than it had been when he first cast it. It hit him straight on, enveloping him in a brilliant green light, he could feel the pain as it seemed to travel through him, systematically destroying his soul piece by piece, until only the final one remained. And then, that too was destroyed, his body disintegrating into dust.

The house was left empty and dark, the only sign of life the whimpering child still clutching his mother's shirt.

There wouldn't be any plot!

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