The Boy Who Lived

by PurpleJellyC

What if Neville was 'The Boy Who Lived? What if it was Harry's parents that were tortured into insanity? How would that affect everyone involved, and the outcome? I intend to explore every possible outcome. Major characters stay mostly the same, except where a change in their background would affect their personality.

1. Prologue

Everywhere was dark. Even the stars were hidden from sight. There was an unnerving silence that wrapped the countryside in a blanket of veiled terror. There were no birds, no rabbits or foxes running through the bushes, not even the wind whistling through the trees.
The people in the house on the hill felt the silence. Terror ripped through them, they had been waiting for this for months. The man stood upstairs, hidden from sight from the front of the door, with his hand held high. It was trembling, yet he stood tall and strong. His wife was hidden away in the attic upstairs, trying to keep her choleric infant from making any noise. Her last hopes were almost gone, yet her defeated soul was still proud. She believed that they still had a chance, that they were still protected. She was wrong.

The man's heart beat fast. This was it, he knew it. The front door blasted open without warning, some of the outer wall of the house and the interior went with it. The intruder stepped inside. The man started to defend against the invader, but to no avail. Sparks and bright flashes of light bounced off the walls. He was killed instantly, effortlessly, without a thought. The attacker started up the stairs, kicked the now lifeless body to the side, and continued on. Muffled cries were heard from the attic. He tore apart the hidden entrance and ascended into the tiny room. The woman was in the corner, holding her child closely to her chest. Terrified and trembling violently, she begged for the life of her child. The evil figure that had barged his way into their house, killing and destroying anything in his path, just stood there. Listening. His blank face betrayed nothing of his thoughts. "Please" cried the woman, inching herself closer and closer to the dusty corner of the attic. The man smiled, he grew tired of this mind game. A cold, chilling laugh filled the room as the attacker raised his arm. A blinding green light flowed through the room; the woman lay dead on the floor, her child still cradled in her arms. His cries had turned into wails. The man stepped forward and forcefully pulled the child from it's mother's dead arms. Another piercing green flash of light, this time accompanied by a blast more powerful than before. The infant's wails grew louder.