Neville Longbottom: the boy who narrowly escaped
An alternitave dimension story. The first paragraph is just a sciency-explanation type thing, so it's not essential to the plot. Please review even if you don't like it and tell me what's wrong.
It is said that every time a decision is made, reality splits into two parrallel dimensions. For example, if you continue reading this, an alternitive you in another universe decides not to (and vice-versa, but I hope that won't be the case). If this is true, there are an infinite number of universes where anything is possible - say, for example, Voldemort picked Neville . . .
Tom POV.
I moved cautiously along the corridor, making a noise that would make a blink sound like a plastic bag factory in a storm. Suddenly, Pringle came round the corner, squinting at me. Swearing, I turned and made a dash for it. One of these days I'll get myself a bloody invisibility cloak . . .
I could easily outrun him. I was nearly at the common room when there was a clatter, someone cackled manically and all the lights went out.
There are some things that must be said at a time like this. Purely for the sake of tradition, I opened my eyes and said: "Ooh, where am I?" Then I looked up and found myself face to face with Pringle. Not a nice thing to wake up to, I can tell you.
"EEEK!"
Peeves laughed his manic laugh again. "Oooh! 'Ickle Tommikins is fwightened? There there, Tommy, Peevesy will protect you from the nasty caretaker, yes he will!" He swooped off down the corridor yelling, "Tommykins screams like a girl!" When I rule the world, he will be the first to go.
"Bloody Peeves,"growled Pringle."Who's going to tidy up the mess? Me!" He flicked his wand and the suit of armour gathered itself up and stood back in its place. It hadn't quite arranged itself properly, though, and I hate to imagine what sort of creature would have worn it. It must have found going to the toilet pretty painful, though (you see now why people are always urging me not to 'unleash my imagination').
Pringle, however, ignored the metal monstrosity glaring at him from the wall, and and turned to me. "As for you, you filthy little son of a troll, I'll . . ."
In the universe you know, he whacked Tom Riddle hard across the head, giving him a strange and very rare disorder which made him love to do things backwards, eg. dying then returning from the grave, reading the phone directory backwards and therefore finding the Potters before the Longbottoms. (I'm a big fan of cause and effect, everything you do has an impact on the world around you etc.) In another universe, howerver, he hesitated and Riddle remained normal - well, normaller, anyway. You know what I mean. So in that universe, of course, Neville became the Chosen One. Let this be a warning: if you hit your little brother, the fate of the world may fall into far more reliable hands than if you don't. Tell your mum that.