Author: Obsidian Kitsune
Title: Pity The Child
Rating: PG-13 for now, I'll change as needed.
Genre: Harry Potter
Type: AU- Drama/Angst
Premise: What if the prophecy concerning Harry and Neville had played out a different way? How would have Harry then grown up, raised by his real parents, and not the Dursleys? Were his parents really the perfect couple?
Authors Note: The whole idea was taken from the song "Pity the Child" from the musical Chess. If you've never seen it before, I'd suggest it, it's really quite good. Though this idea was based on the song, the story itself is NOT following the musical itself, as it wouldn't really fit in the Potter-verse, lol. I just really liked the song ^_^ It could also fit Severus Snape a bit, if you play around with it, but that's not here. As stated above, this is an AU FIC!!! As in, if people flame me informing me that what I have written is not how things went, well, duh! I'm not following JKR's storyline, hence AU.
Disclaimer: If I was JKR do you really think I'd be writing fan fiction based on my own set of books??? I rest my case. Now never ask again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Pity The Child: Chapter One.
When I was nine I learned survival
Taught myself not to care
I was my single good companion
Taking my comfort there
Up in my room I planned my conquests
On my own -- never asked for a helping hand
No one would understand
I never asked the pair who fought below
Just in case they said "No."
Pity the child who has ambition
Knows what he wants to do
Knows that he'll never fit the system
Others expect him to
Pity the child who knew his parents
Saw their faults, saw their love die before his eyes
Pity the child that wise
He never asked, "Did I cause your distress?"
Just in case they said, "Yes."
When I was twelve my father moved out
Left with a whimper -- not with a shout
I didn't miss him -- he made it perfectly clear
I was a fool and probably queer
Fool that I was I thought this would bring
Those he had left closer together
She made her move the moment he crawled away
I was the last the woman told
She never let her bed get cold
Someone moved in -- I shut my door
Someone to treat her just the same way as before.
I took the road of least resistance
I had my game to play
I had the skill, and more -- the hunger
Easy to get away
Pity the child with no such weapons
No defense, no escape from the ties that bind
Always a step behind
I never called to tell her all I'd done
I was only her son!
Pity the child but not forever
Not if he stays that way
He can get all he ever wanted
If he's prepared to pay
Pity instead the careless mother
What she missed,
What she lost when she let me go
And I wonder does she know
I never call.
A crazy thing to do
Just in case she said, "Who?"
~Prologue~
On a dark and stormy Hallowe'en night, two different families celebrated amongst themselves, unaware of the danger that would soon befall one. Both the Potters and the Longbottoms had gone under the Fidelus charm by advisement of Albus Dumbledore. He had found out by chance that a prophesy had been made that involved the sons of both families, and felt it best that they be protected from the wrath of the current Dark Lord, Voldemort. Both rested easy once they had decided on their respective secret keepers and performed the magic. Too bad one families choice was less then… shall we say, fortunate?
The Potters had chosen, after some initial debate, their friend Sirius Black. They had considered their other friend, Peter Pettigrew, but since the Longbottoms hadn't found a secret keeper of their own, he stepped up for the job. Pity. Unknown to them, he had been in league with the Dark Lord for some time, and jumped at the chance to deliver to him one of the children of Prophesy. In his own eyes, better to kill off the pureblood. It was, after all, a well-known fact that Lily Evans was a mudblood, and any offspring of hers was therefore tainted and weaker then a true pureblood. It must be so, for his master had said as much himself.
So it was on that fateful night of Hallowe'en 1981 that a surge of dark magic ripped through a small manor house in a secluded part of England's countryside, startling the two young parents, Frank and Alice, and their young song Neville. Both had extensive knowledge in dueling, and Mr. Longbottom put up a valiant effort, but in the end he was cut down by the green light of the Avada Kedavra cast by none other then the Dark Lord himself. Meanwhile Alice had fled with her young son to the basement level where a secret passage had been built into the manor. She had just laid hand to the trigger for the door when it opened by itself, revealing the form of their secret keeper.
Peter grinned as he walked out of the tunnel, wand leveled at the young mother. With her hands full carrying her son, Alice knew she couldn't retaliate and hex the little rat-faced traitor like she wanted to. She silently berated herself forever trusting the rodent. Her face a mask of silent fury she hugged Neville close and backed away from the man's gesturing wand. Her blood ran cold when a cold laugh sounded from behind her.
"Please, my dear, don't be in such a rush to leave us so soon. After all, we've only just arrived."
Alice swallowed, her eyes darting frantically around the dark cellar area, searching for a way out of the trap. Her eyes fell on the advancing Peter, and having nothing better to do, she kicked out at him with her foot, connecting with his solar plexus and knocking him out cold. Though she knew that she wouldn't be able to get away, she used the brief distraction to mutter over her child's forehead in the pretense of a kiss. She had been the best at charms and ancient magic, along with her friend Lily. It was the only thing she could think of to save her precious child.
Voldemort's cold red eyes narrowed in satisfaction. The girl seemed to have realized that there was no way out and had collapsed, still cradling her child in her arms. After taking out that whimpering coward first, of course. He advanced on the shaking woman, one hand outstretched with lethal wand pointed.
"Give me that child woman, and you will live. It isn't you I want after all."
"No! Not my child! You can't have him you evil beast!" She clutched Neville to her chest, to weak from using all her power protecting him to fight back any further then that.
Red eyes narrowed in rage, his intended target denied him. "You foolish woman." He stalked closer to Alice, every spoken word a little softer, and more hissed. "I would have let you keep your worthless life, but I see you think you are too good for my humble generosity. I'll not force my gift upon those not thankful then." His raised wand began to glow with a sinister green light as he mouthed the incantation that would end her life.
"Avada Kedavra!" With one flash of green light it was over, and Alice Longbottom had breathed her last. Slowly, her body crumpled back, lifeless and quickly losing the warmth of life. Still though, her dead arms held close the child she had given all to protect.
By this time Neville was giving out lustful cries of fear and hurt, too young yet to understand why his mother didn't move to comfort him, or his daddy make the bad man go away. He looked up at the scary man with red eyes and the glowing stick as he approached, one chubby fist rubbing his watering eyes. His sobs gave way to hiccups as he sat on his dead mothers chest. Red eyes stared into blue as the evil man spoke the fateful words once more.
But when the green light sped towards the small boy, something strange happened. It hit dead center of the child's forehead, but the force of it seemed halted. It moved sluggishly, swirling around the young boy's body as his whimpers became frantic screams of terror and pain. Gathering itself together, it then traveled the same path it had previously taken, straight back at its castor. Faster then could be followed it returned and hit the startled Dark Lord, ripping soul from body in a bright flash of green light. An evil dark mist seemed to flow from the crumpled body to hover briefly then flee the room, leaving behind a stunned Pettigrew, the dead body of Alice Longbottom, and young Neville Longbottom, crying with a lightning-bolt shaped cut on his head.
When the authorities finally arrive to the late Longbottoms residence that was all they found. Pettigrew was taken in for questioning, and later put in Azkaban for life for being a Death Eater and betraying the Longbottoms. Neville, or "The Boy Who Lived" was sent to live with his only remaining relatives, a distant Aunt and Uncle. Death Eaters had already decimated most of his family. The Wizarding World now rested easily at night, knowing that the Dark Lord had been defeated.
So to did the Potters, their only child now safe. They could concentrate once again on each other and their love, instead of fighting to stay alive and keeping Wizarding England safe.
…Maybe having so much family time isn't such a good thing?