Neville Strongbottom and the Deathly Gallows
Chapter One
The entire wizarding community was celebrating. Lord Voldemort had been destroyed, when his Killing Curse failed to hurt a baby. There were many questions left unanswered, but who cared? The Dark Lord was dead, which meant nobody had to fear for their safety.
An old man called Dumbledore was eating lemon drops outside Number Four, Privet Drive. There was a cat there as well.
Or, not a cat. It suddenly turned into a middle-aged woman with green glasses.
"Dumbledore, is it true? Was Voldemort killed by a child?"
"Well, not killed exactly. As you know, Minerva, wizards never actually die. His soul swarms all around us. It is the sucker part of the Tootsie Roll Pop, and we are the chocolate center."
"Okay, fine, but a child was responsible?"
"Young Neville Strongbottom will always bear the scar of the triumph he has had. But the baby's victory is nil when you consider the loss of the Potter Family."
The lady looked aghast. "Lily and James Potter, dead? But wasn't Serious Whack their Secret-Keeper?"
"Yes, and he turned them in. He also killed thirteen million people in and around New York City, among them cheerful Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was Neville's godfather."
"Does this mean the Big Apple has been destroyed?"
"The Big Apple, Hogsmeade, Cairo, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Indian Ocean, and ostriches are all relics of the past."
"How is the Indian Ocean gone?"
"Oh, one of Voldemort's servants—a R.A.B.—used a spell to coerce the Earth's Crust into draining that area. Now it is just one giant basin."
"Well, thank Merlin the age of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Shamed is over. I was getting tired of worshipping a true idol. This day will probably be Neville Strongbottom Day in the future."
"Yes, about that, Minerva. I was thinking it might be nice to send Strongbottom to live with Muggles instead of a wizarding family to raise him."
"But why, Albus?"
"Because if wizards are responsible for his upbringing, when he is older they will congratulate themselves on creating the world's most powerful wizard. Neville has strength in his blood, and not just his hiney."
"It still seems terrible to punish him so, but whom did you have in mind to raise him?"
"A couple of charitable folk known as the Dursleys."
"You can't mean the people who live here?" Minerva asked, her appalled expression turned towards Number Four Privet Drive.
"Why, certainly. The Dursleys were relatives of the Potters, and Strongbottom could benefit from their instruction since both he and Harry shared characteristics that linked them to a prophecy I heard little more than a month ago."
"You know I don't believe in these psuedo-fortune tellers."
"I have reason to believe this woman was the genuine article. She also predicted that I would be killed within sixteen years' time, on account of being betrayed by somebody I'm going to give my full and complete trust."
"But, Albus, you're immortal! The only thing that can kill you is an overdose of sweets. You know what the Healer said about your fetish for lemon drops."
"Oh, yes," Dumbledore said, staring guiltily at the candy he had just unwrapped. "Well, you only live twice," he commented, popping it into his mouth.
Ten years later, Neville Strongbottom received a letter to Hogwarts. He could barely read a word, because his Mierzly had drooled all over it. Mierzly was the monkey that belonged to Dudley Dursley, who didn't know a coat rack from a pogo stick.
Neville told Vernon about the letter he couldn't read.
"Go sit on your cousin's ape, and maybe that'll teach him a lesson," Vernon advised.
"Thanks, I'll try that."
But it was as if Mierzly had anticipated the cruel and unusual punishment he was about to receive. He was nowhere to be found. So Neville sat on Dudley's Playstation instead.
Dudley went to complain to his father that he couldn't put Alien Surprise! in the Playstation console because Cousin Neville had decided to plant himself on it. Vernon told Neville to get off, and that he was sure another letter would show up, or he was Oliver Cromwell.
Days later, an influx of letters fell through the chimney. Mierzly tried his best to drool on them all, but only got to thirty or forty before Neville was able to fetch a clean one and carry it to his bedroom, which was covered with a whole bunch of Dudley's junk in it.
Neville opened the letter, and read it in disbelief. He, a wizard! No, impossible…such things were confined to fairy tales. He went to ask Vernon about it.
"It's true, every word of it, dear nephew," Vernon said. "You were left on our doorstep around your first birthday, and Petunia and I wanted to keep it a secret from you, since we knew our Dudders would be jealous. That's why we bought Mierzly—so that he'd have someone to punch when you went off to learn magic and he was left behind."
"Where can I get my supplies?"
"Oh, the good, homely gamekeeper of Hogwarts will be here within three days to take you. He sent the family an onion pie, which made Petunia faint."
Platform Nine and Three Sevenths was hard to miss. Neville asked a few Muggles if they could help him, but they just looked at him like he was insane. Then he saw a family of redheads running with their carts toward the area between platforms nine and ten. He followed suit.
There was a man there who resembled a playing card, the two of spade. He asked if the boy was Neville Strongbottom.
"Yes, I am he."
"Well, you must follow me. You need to be put in a compartment by yourself. We don't want people to find out how puissant your fanny is before their time, anyhow."
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