Just As We Lose

Summary: AU Seventeen year-old Harry Potter has had the perfect childhood: loving parents, loyal friends, and no condemning scar on his forehead. But how will he cope when he suddenly finds himself in a completely different universe, where his family is gone, his friends are enemies, and he is marked as the only wizard able to defeat Voldemort?

Disclaimer: I'm just doing this for fun. So sue me.

Disclaimer2: No, honestly. (sigh) I don't own Harry Potter, or anything from the Harry Potter universe...that all belongs to the great J.K. Rowling.

Chapter One

September

Harry gave a sigh and stretched, shutting Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed as he did so.

"I think that's enough for today. It might take a while for all those terms to sink in, but you should be ready for anything McGonagall throws at you."

"Thanks Harry." Neville smiled and took the book Harry was handing to him. The two boys were sitting in a corner of the library, next to a bright window that was slightly open to allow in the cool autumn breeze. Outside, heaps of scarlet and golden leaves flew into the air and fluttered back to the ground in a spontaneous dance. It was a Saturday but not a Hogsmeade weekend, and most students were spending their time mulling about in the open courtyard or gossiping conspiratorially in the vacant corridors.

Harry suddenly appeared thoughtful. "Are you up for some flying?"

Neville smiled lightly as he buried his books in his bag. "No," he replied. "You?"

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned. "Neville, don't be such a spoilsport. Besides," he stood up and hitched his bag on his shoulder, "you need a break from all this studying."

Neville shrugged. "But I can't. I still haven't gotten my broom fixed."

Which was true. Near the end of sixth year, his old Shooting Star broke free from his trunk and zipped about the common room, smashing everything to no end. The other housemates weren't too pleased to say the least.

"So?" Shrugged Harry, unperturbed. "You can borrow Dean's."

Neville frowned. "I don't think he'll like that. Last time I borrowed it, I scraped the handle somewhere in the tunnel on the way to Honeydukes. He didn't say anything, but he must have paid a lot to get it re-varnished."

"Then how about Seamus?"

"You mean that racing Nimbus he got from his great aunt? He won't even let me near it." Neville shook his head sadly, "It's a beauty though."

Harry scratched his chin. "Okay, fine." He bent down to pick up A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration and set it back on the shelf,"we'll just walk to the dungeons then and ask Draco. He'll let you borrow his Firebolt."

Neville frowned. "He's got a game coming up against Hufflepuff, doesn't he? He probably needs it for practice."

"You could just borrow one from the broom closet."

"Harry, you need permission for that," he replied carefully. "Filch will never allow it. I'm not on a team."

"Who cares about Filch?" Harry laughed. "We'll just have to borrow one without telling him, won't we?"

Neville glanced at Harry incredulously. "And earn ourselves another two weeks of detention? Harry, there are only so many cauldrons that I can scrub in a lifetime. And what's more," he ignored Harry's snort, "I want to get started on my History essay. I need to do really well on this one, or Gran might send me another howler."

At Harry's smirk he added,

"It wasn't funny the lasttime she sent me one."

"Oh c'mon Neville!" Sighed Harry in frustration. "Have some spirit! Look, we'll just hop in, get a broom, and hop right back out! Easy."

"No."

"We'll never get caught."

"No."

"We won't!"

For a moment, Neville said nothing and just glowered back at him. Harry Potter, his best friend for nearly seven years. They had known each other longer of course, since they both had parents working for the Order of the Phoenix. They never bothered to talk with one another, however, until that day, in October of first year. It was during a long and slightly dull Transfiguration class. Professor Dumbledore walked in as jovially as always, but something about his smile was not quite the same. After having a silly, private conversation with Professor McGonagall (which everyone could hear), he had taken Neville aside.

Harry, who happened to be lingering nearby, overhead Dumbledore tell Neville that both his parents had gone missing.

Harry felt terrible at first, but then had a fleeting suspicion that Dumbledore meant him to overhear. The entire world changed for Neville that day, but Harry understood it. His father had gone on that mission too – only James Potter was lucky enough to escape. Harry could understand, and eventually resolved to help Neville through it. True, it was a rather terrible twist of fate, but here they were; best friends because of it.

But friend or no friend, Neville was not going to sit through another bloody detention because of him.

"No." He repeated firmly, crossing his arms.

Harry rolled his eyes at Neville's stubbornness. "Please? We won't get caught. Honestly, Filch is pretty dim as it is, and if we take my invisibility cloak he'll have no reason to suspect us."

"That doesn't take care of Mrs. Norris."

"I'll hex her and hang her upside down by her tail. Besides, she can't talk."

Neville was not so sure about that. Filch seemed to understand her pretty well. He pulled the strap of his bag over his head and shrugged. "Sorry, Harry."

Sighing, Harry looked down at his shoes and frowned. The open sky, the fresh air - he desperately wanted to fly. And Neville needed it too, he thought, after He had been in the library all week; reading, studying, revising. He was turning into a bloody bookworm!

Harry scowled. Hell, there has to be -someone- who has a broomstick…

A number seconds passed before Harry suddenly looked up, a glint briefly through his eyes. "Filch might not give us a key, I think I know someone who might." He grabbed Neville's arm and immediately pulled him out of the library.

"Harry!" Neville snapped. "Where are we going?"

His friend just ignored him, instead pulling him past a flock of third years down a series of moving staircases. He led him down a long corridor, turned right, and stopped at the tall, grey figure of a stone gargoyle.

There was a large group of fourth years nearby eyeing them disappointedly. They began muttering among themselves and then bursting into giggles. Neville had a fleeting suspicion that they were in the corridor to cause mischief. He gave Harry a sideways glance and frowned. Harry just smirked and murmured long list of passwords. Eventually, the gargoyle leaped aside and Harry pulled Neville onto a slowly-revolving staircase.

"You knew the password?" Asked Neville incredulously.

Harry winked. "Me and dad spent some time figuring out the possibilities. He's known the headmaster for a long time. He was bound to figure out."

The staircase suddenly came to a stop and the two boys stepped onto a landing before a large pair of mahogany double doors.

Harry stepped forward and knocked.

No one answered.

"Well, look at that," Neville hissed. "No one's here. You know, we should just forget about the broom. You can fly. I'll just sit and watch."

Harry shook his head and pushed the door open. He stepped tentatively inside with Neville following closely behind. The office was deadly quiet and empty of any human life, save for the thin, sullen-looking man sitting behind a large desk.

"Headmaster?"

"Well Mr. Potter. Mr. Longbottom." A scowl. "I truly hope no one sent you here for a detention. I rather was looking forward to spending my weekend with people possessing relative intelligence."

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape." Replied Harry cheerfully and tugged Neville forward. "We were wondering if you could lend us the key to the broom closet. We wanted to go flying, but Neville here is getting his broomstick fixed."

Professor Snape, who had been reading what looked to be a long letter on illegal transfiguration charms, leaned back in his chair and studied Neville and Harry carefully.

"And what exactly was wrong with the broom, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville sighed (inaudibly) and took a step forward. "I don't know, sir. It broke lose and destroyed…p-practically everything in the dormitory… "

"Ah, yes." Snape turned his attention back to the letter. "Your head of house was told me about the incident."

The room fell silent. Neville threw a frustrated glance at Harry, but it was all in vain, for his friend had moved to study the shelves with a sudden interest.

"Touch nothing, Potter."

"Of course, sir."

After a few minutes, Snape sighed heavily and rolled up the letter, levitating it to a bookshelf nearby. He caught Neville's eye and frowned. "And it didn't occur to you to ask your own head of house, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville opened his mouth, then shut it dumbly before looking away to stare at his shoes. "N-no. I guess not, sir."

At the reply, Snape's gaze faintly shifted to Harry, who by now had pull down a rather heavy, old book and was leafing through it curiously.

Snape remained silent for a moment, before he stood up. "I'll make you a deal Longbottom." He drew out his wand and rolled it between his fingers. "We'll have a duel. If you can get in one standard seventh year spell before one minute is up, I'll considering giving you the key to the broom closet."

Neville looked up, expression revealing both surprise and horror.

Snape sneered. "Then you may choose from the wide variety of Comets and Cleansweep Sevens the school provides. The quality of broom you're undoubtedly used to riding, am I correct?"

Neville's ears reddened.

"Does that sound fair?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then get out your wand."

Neville scowled in Harry's direction, who now had his nose stuck in A Chronological Compendium of Curses and their Counter-Actions.

He drew his wand.

"On three, Longbottom. One…Two…Three."

The first curse flew at Neville without delay.

"Protego!"

Neville's shield faltered slightly, but he was able to block off most of the curse. "Tarantellegra!" He called uncertainly.

Snape deflected the curse easily.

"Adglutino!"

Neville hurriedly brought up another shield, but Snape was too quick. He felt his feet fasten to the ground where he was standing. Inwardly, he cursed.

Snape sneered, then cast another spell, without a word. Faintly, Neville felt a dull buzzing in his ears - he couldn't hear anything else. He looked at the headmaster in shock. "Praefoco!" He shouted, taking care to annunciate it clearly.

Again, Snape deflected it, but he raised an amused eyebrow. Longbottom knew the strangling curse? He sneered. "Furnunculus!"

Neville watched, horrified as a bright flash erupted from Snape's wand. He yelled "Obsidium!", and held back sigh in relief as the curse was deflected.

"Impedimenta!"

"Abscindo," Neville muttered hurriedly at this shoes. In an instant, he wrenched free and dove away from Snape's Blasting curse, faintly wondering whether headmasters were allowed to use that spell on students.

Snape smirked and released the Muffliato charm on Neville's hearing. "Impressive Longbottom," he drawled. "You should consider joining the English ballet."

Neville stood back up, ears reddening. "Diffindo!" He shouted. The curse missed and cleaved open a glass box of quills on Snape's desk.

"You've just lost your house five points," said Snape stiffly. "You have fifteen seconds, Longbottom. Reducto!"

"Protego!"

"Locomotor Mortis!" The leg-locking curse hit its mark and Neville fell heavily forward with a cry of pain.

"Five seconds, Longbottom."

Think! Neville mentally yelled at himself. Think! A seventh year spell. What was a seventh year spell? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry shift uneasily. His thoughts drifted back to the library.

Transfiguration.

"Expelliarmus!" Snape yelled firmly.

Think. Transfiguration.

"Mutatio Procnes!" Neville shut his eyes at the sudden flash and felt his wand fly out of his hand with a faint whoosh.

Dreading what he would see, Neville opened his eyes slowly and scanned the room. Snape was still standing, but his wand was lowered. He had a strange expression on his face.

Neville couldn't help but feel his stomach knot in disappointment. What would his grandmother say if she saw him now? Seventh year and he still couldn't even last a minute against the headmaster. And deep inside, he didn't think he ever would.

"P-Professor, I…"

At the sound of a book falling and hitting the ground, Neville spun around and found Harry on the floor, eyes clamped shut, clutching his side.

He was laughing.

"H-Harry? What are you laughing about?" Neville was cut short as he heard a distinct twittering coming from behind him. He turned and spotted a yellow canary hopping delightfully along the window ledge.

Neville paled.

The tiny bird chirped, before leaping and fluttering outside.

Neville felt his heart coming to a standstill. "My wand…"

Snape's expression betrayed nothing, though his usual black eyes alight with something akin to amusement. "A canary, Mr. Longbottom?"

Neville felt himself flush with embarrassment. Harry still struggled on the floor, trying to muffle his laughter with the sleeve of his robe.

"Harry," Neville hissed.

"Sorry." Harry managed between chuckles. "Sorry, Neville."

Snape pressed his lips into a thin line and re-pocketed his wand in his robes. He returned swiftly to the front of the room and he sat back down at his desk.

"I admit your creativity, though horribly impractical, is increasing over the years."

Neville nodded solemnly, still eyeing the window.

The headmaster did nothing for a moment, then lazily waved his hand. A drawer slid open and a set of old keys flew onto his desk. He sneered and tossed them towards a surprised Neville, who moved to catch them, but he was too slow. Harry with a mischievous grin, got to them first.

"Second wardrobe, Potter. To your right."

Harry gave Neville a triumphant smirk and walked to the old wardrobe, unlocking the old green door. He reached inside and carefully pulled out a sleek, black broomstick. He re-shut the door and held the broom out for Neville who watched in surprise.

"H-Harry… that's Professor Snape's broom!"

Harry just shrugged. "It's the only one in there."

Neville turned to back to the headmaster, who had returned to reading, and stared at him incredulously.

"Professor, we only asked for the key to the broom closet…"

"Would you rather use a broom from the broom closet?" The headmaster drawled as he reached for a quill.

"N-no sir." Neville looked flustered. "No. Not…really."

"Then get out of my office."

Neville muttered a hasty expression of gratitude, before following Harry out the door.

After hearing what had transpired of Neville's duel against Snape a few hours earlier, Draco Malfoy snorted into his pumpkin juice.

Harry grinned mischievously and shovelled a serving of pea soup into his bowl.

"It flew out the bloody window?"

Harry laughed, earning a deadly glare from Neville who was watching the conversation moodily from across the room. "Yeah. So you haven't seen a tiny yellow canary flying about?"

Draco shook his head. "I wouldn't bother looking if I were you. If anything, my owl's probably eaten it by now."

Harry made a sound of agreement and tasted his soup with a frown. Draco's owl was truly a menace. During the first year he brought it to Hogwarts, it swooped down and got into a nasty fight with a cat owned by one of the Hufflepuffs. Of course, Draco had sworn to Professor Spout that it had been properly trained since – but Harry had a strong impression that he was lying about it.

"But you can tell Longbottom he can sift through the owl pellets in a few days."

Harry made a face. "That's disgusting Draco."

"No kidding."

There was a flash and a distant rumbling from above. Heads turned to watch the ceiling as heavy drops of dry, enchanted rain began to fall over their heads.

Harry watched curiously. "By the way, how did quidditch practice go?"

Draco spooned a pile of carrots into his mouth and chewed slowly. He swallowed and reached for his goblet. "It's fine. We'll beat them - there's no question about that." He sipped thoughtfully. "Though their new keeper might pose some problems."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the boy Malfoy was indicating. He had bright, red hair and cheeks covered thickly in freckles. He was sitting with what appeared to be the rest of the Gryffindor team, who were guffawing at what appeared to be a silly joke of his. One of his housemates, an admiringly smart witch Harry knew from Arithmancy, folded her arms in disapproval. The team laughed some more. Then, almost as if the boy could feel someone staring, his scanned the room and darted towards Harry.

He quickly looked away. "I guess you should never underestimate your opponent," he told Draco said carefully.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Quoting words of wisdom from your daddy again?"

Harry's lips twitched. "Maybe. Maybe not." He smiled and then beckoned to Neville, who was eyeing him disdainfully.

"You just had to tell him, didn't you?" Neville snapped as he sat down to join them.

Harry shrugged. "These things don't happen everyday, you know."

Draco kept himself from snickering and swallowed a second spoonful of carrots. "Potter's right. I would have heard about it from Snape eventually, and Potter's version is probably more in your favour. Would you rather have me hear Snape's version of things?"

Neville didn't have a chance to reply. At that moment, the desserts appeared.

AN: I really do hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Just in case you're wondering, yes, this fic is actually postHBP – and that will be more obvious in the later chapters. Snape, in this universe is quiet a bit…different.

Well, as you could probably tell, a lot of things were still very vague, like, say, Harry's house for example. (winks)
Which brings up my question to you – is there a house that you would prefer to see Harry in? I have a general idea, by let me know what you think.

Please review!