It was quiet in Godric's Hollow on the night of October 31st, 1981.
A quaint cottage stood at the end of the street, hidden from all but one. Light poured out of a front window, and through it, one could see a dark-haired man, barely past his teenage years, playing with his infant son. Colored sparks shot brightly out of the tip of a wand, and the child's squealing laughter almost echoed in the chilly night. The mother, a stunning woman with fiery red hair, entered, scooped up the child, and carried him off to bed. The man stretched and relaxed, tossing his wand onto the worn sofa. All was well at the Potter household.
The young parents, James and Lily, slipped off to bed, unaware of the world outside of their cottage walls. In a way, the cottage acted a prison. It kept evil out, but at the cost of keeping them in and closed off from all they loved. The moonlight was bright as they fall asleep, only to be awaken by a pounding of their front door in the early morning sunshine. Both rose out of bed swiftly, clutching wands and hands. Stumbling down the stairs, their hearts beat in time with the pounding on their door.
"The Dark Lord was defeated. He's gone. You're safe now," an exhausted Sirius Black, Auror and friend, exclaimed. The couple sighed in relief. Their son, Harry, was safe from harm as was the small fluttering heartbeat beating within Lily's womb.
But their safety had not come without a cost. Betrayal and death had shattered many hearts in one night.
The Potters' own friend and secret keeper had betrayed another. Peter Pettigrew, a worried and stout man, had been tense upon his visit a few days previous, but Lily and James would have never guessed that he would betray them and the other family hiding from the Dark Lord Voldemort's cruel eye. Pettigrew had grown close with the secret keeper of Frank and Alice Longbottom, Daisy Longbottom, as they hid to protect their son, Neville, just as James and Lily had done. In a moment of weakness and cowardice, Peter Pettigrew betrayed all that he knew when he arrived to the Dark Lord and gave him Daisy's name. A harsh grin on Voldemort's face and a muttered sigh of a approval was all Peter noticed before his heart stopped with a flash of green.
Daisy fought hard until her end, enduring unthinkable amounts of torture to protect her brother and his family. Bellatrix Lestrange, a devoted follower of the Dark Lord, tortured Daisy Longbottom to insanity, and in her broken state of mind, the Longbottoms' address slipped off of Daisy's tongue. Lestrange would be apprehended, but not before Lord Voldemort had received the information. Daisy was found by a group of Aurors, broken and bloodied, and taken to St. Mungo's Hospital where she would eventually succumb to her injuries.
An explosion was what first brought Sirius Black and fellow Aurors to the small country home of the Longbottoms. The back end of the house had been blown out, charred black, but yet no fires were visible. It was not until the Aurors crossed the threshold that they realized all that must have occured. They found Frank's body first, lying at the foot of the stairwell, the ghost of fear flickering in his dead eyes. The house remained eerily quiet as the Aurors spread out to search for any sign of life. Sirius was the one to find the destroyed nursery and the bodies it held. Alice was prostrate before the baby's crib, a teddy bear clutched in her hand. The broken form of Lord Voldemort was curled in on itself in the center of the room. Both were dead. Sirius was about to call for another Auror when he heard the tiniest of whimpers. Hidden beneath a fallen blanket, the young Longbottom child squirmed in his crib. Sirius, in a rush, checked the baby for harm and found nothing other than a small scar on the boy's forehead, shaped similarly to a lightning bolt.
Yes, many had died that night, but one innocent little boy happened to be the one who lived.
Neville would grow up loved under the watchful eye of his grandparents, Frank Sr. and Agatha Longbottom. He was a quiet boy with the same blonde hair and light eyes as his mother, but the wit and courage of his father. The courage took a while to appear, but it was there for Neville when the time came. Frank Sr. encouraged Neville's love of herbology to grow from the moment Neville could understand nature's beauty. Agatha loved her grandson very much, though she did not show it often, and gave him free reign in the Longbottom library where Neville discovered more and more each day.
The Potters spent much time with Neville and his family, out of both pity and guilt. Neville grew up alongside Harry, the two becoming friends. James would teach them Quidditch on his days off from being an Auror, but Neville seemed to prefer reading inside with Lily, who worked nights as a Healer at St. Mungo's.
Harry and Neville went off to school, both with hand me down robes and nerves raging war inside. After being separated on the train, Harry found himself sitting across from a redheaded boy with a smudge of dirt on his nose, and Neville found himself sitting across from a girl with stunning dark skin and head full of curls.
"The name's Ambrose, but everyone usually calls me Rose," the girl had told him, extending a hand. Neville shook it uneasily, scared to be seen as just The Boy Who Lived once he said who he was.
Before he could answer however, a boy came stumbling into the compartment.
"'Ey Rose! I knew I would find you eventually!" The loud boy introduced himself as Jacob Whitman, a muggleborn who had lived close to Ambrose since they were young.
"I-I'm Neville Longbottom," Neville muttered almost silently.
The pair's eyes widened before Ambrose shrugged, "Okay," and went back to reading her book.
And that was that.
The trip to Hogwarts passed quickly. Rose sped through a novel the size of her head, and Neville explained the collection of plants he had somehow managed to sneak into his trunk to Jake. The boy seemed fascinated and proceed to ask multiple questions. Since Neville did not know all the answers, the pair promised to go to the vast school library and find the answers together. Rose was most certainly going to join them.
Neville later found himself shifting uneasily beneath the sorting hat. It whispered in his head, and Neville silently argued back. "Gryffindor!" the hat pronounced loudly, and the far side of the room erupted into cheers. Neville's heart plummeted to his stomach, but deep inside the flame of courage continued to flicker. Harry later joined him in Gryffindor, but Neville's thoughts kept trailing back to his new friends, both having been sorted into Hufflepuff.
Though the three had been separated by house, Neville, Jake, and Rose became fast and close friends. Jacob was unbelievably brilliant and always helped with a paper written by Neville's nervous hand. Ambrose was adventurous, dragging Neville to each and every Quidditch game. Neville found himself laughing more than he had perhaps in his whole life.
Harry grew close to the redheaded boy from the train, Ronald Weasley, and the pair got into loads of trouble before a muggleborn named Hermione Granger contain their energy. These three enjoyed their own adventures, but that is for another story in another time.
There was still a young Malfoy that teased the nervous Neville, but Harry or Ron would seemingly appear from the shadows, a hex on the tip of their tongues to anyone who insulted a fellow Gryffindor. There was still a Professor Snape, a broken-hearted and cold man, that criticized Neville for any screw ups, but a stubborn Ambrose would fire back a retort as quick as lightning. There was still a stuttering Professor Quirrell, who would be found deep within the castle before a mirror wishing for a stone. Neville would be standing beside him, hands shaking, having left his friends in the maze of riddles behind. The stone dropped into his pocket, but just as Quirrell was about to unleash his wrath commanded by Voldemort, Professor McGonagall appeared and cause Quirrell to flee. Neville dreamt of Voldemort's whispers that night, but the flame of courage was now burning bright.
Yes, Neville had stood up to the person who had killed his parents, but that did not change who he was. The summer was spent reading and exploring the nearby forest for new plants, and many letters passed in and out of Neville's bedroom window to his dear Jake and Rose.
The following school year saw the youngest Weasley arriving to Hogwarts with the same trembling hands as her brother had the year before. Unknown to both, Neville and Ginevra were inexplicably linked. Neville heard the whispering of a beast in the castle walls, a voice that no one else seemed to hear. Ginny heard the whispering of a journal that poisoned her mind, leading her to wake with no memory and blood on her hands. Neither knew the other's secret, but one person did, the one they both confided in: Hermione Granger. It was her knowledge that saved the school that year. Hermione dove into research and discovered Neville's unusual parseltongue ability first. He had come to her in the quiet of the library when the whispers were thought to be his own madness. Hermione was the one who saw the fear and pain in Ginny's eyes and sat her down. The story came out in relief, and Ginny told Hermione all that had happened since that journal appeared in her cauldron. The journal found its way to the headmaster, and with Ginny's testimony, the true purpose of the journal was revealed. Tom Riddle's diary was destroyed, and time flew by to the beginning of the next school year.
And this is where the story begins, but this isn't Neville's story or even Harry's.
Remember that fluttering heartbeat?
This is the story of Faelin Potter, the girl who lived.