A/N: I don't own Harry Potter and wouldn't particularly care to. I would like a rental agreement with option to buy for Hermione Granger. A short term contract with Nymphadora Tonks wouldn't be turned down. A Long-term agreement with Luna Lovegood would probably be a whole lot of fun. Any time Padma Patil wants to open negotiations, call me and oh for a weekend with Fleur. Oddly Lavender and Padma's sister (despite being her twin) Parvati do nothing for me…
A/N2: This is a mix of genres, first and foremost it is a 'Hidden BadAss Neville' story. And there is a Crossover into a universe that becomes very clear by the end of what I've got written, though some of my pre-readers pegged it from the first section. I'm hardly subtle.
This is one of those stories that started strong, but then just faded to nothing after about 1.5k words.
The Power of the Night
"Hello Gussie,"
Augusta Longbottom's eyes widened in surprise, and then she threw her arms around the man. "Alfred? We weren't expecting you."
The man shrugged. "An unexpected vacation. My employer is busy and will be away for several months, so I thought I'd come home and check on Frank and Alice. Have there been any changes?"
"Sadly, no," Augusta answered. "They aren't degrading, but they aren't getting any better either."
"I hope the Lestranges are enjoying their time in Azkaban," Alfred said viciously. "And how is Neville?"
"Let's get some lunch," Augusta countered, obviously trying to change the subject.
"Let's," the man agreed.
-oooOOOooo-
He waited until the meal was served and the waiter had left them alone before again asking his question.
"Out with it Gussie, how is Neville?" Alfred paused for a moment before continuing. "Is he like… well, like me?"
Augusta's eyes widened, "oh, no, Merlin, no. If anything he's too powerful, Alfred."
"Too powerful?" Alfred asked with a grin. "Allowing underage magic at Longbottom Hall, are we?"
"Oh, don't you start," Augusta huffed. "His accidental magic started when he was four, after the fifth time he turned a room inside out, Garrick Ollivander himself told us that the only way to get it under control was to get him his wand."
"All right," Alfred said with a small smile. "If his problem isn't his magic, what is it?"
Augusta looked around to ensure there was no one near enough to overhear. "He remembers, Alfred. He remembers everything."
The man blinked. "Oh, my."
-oooOOOooo-
"Hello Neville," the old man said as he entered the nursery.
The boy in question looked up from his primer and his face brightened with a smile. "Uncle Alfred!"
"I had some time, so I thought I'd come see my favorite Grand Nephew."
"I'm glad you did, sir."
"Sir?" Alfred asked quizzically. "Nice try Neville, but remember who you're talking to. That rot won't work on me."
The boy blushed, so Alfred pressed his inquiry. "Your Gran tells me you remember that night."
The boy avoided his eyes, looking back down at his lesson book. "I do. At first it was only at night, in my dreams, but now it's all the time. I even remember the man who tried to make me forget."
"Cornelius Fudge is a miserable little man, Neville," Alfred said, "and not much of a wizard. If there is any justice in the world, he and his ilk would disappear and never amount to much, but as there isn't, they often rise to high power. You're a strong wizard, you get that from both Frank and my Alice. Your magic has broken the Obliviate that fool Fudge put on you and given you some horrible memories."
"Uncle Garrick said the same thing," Neville sighed.
"Garrick Ollivander and I rarely agree on much," Alfred laughed. "But on you we both agree. You will be a force to be reckoned with."
Alfred lowered himself into the chair next to Neville's desk. "So, you know. What do you intend to do with this knowledge?"
The six year old was silent for several seconds, quite obviously pondering just how much of his plans he dared reveal to an adult.
"I go to Hogwarts in five years," he said softly. "I can't do much about the surviving adults who bought their way out of gaol, but I can keep their children from spreading their poison."
Alfred could not help but be taken aback by the intensity of the boy's anger, and he also could not help but find it startlingly familiar.
"And what do you know about me?" he asked.
"I know you're Mum's uncle, that you live among the Muggles, and can't visit all that often because you're a squib," Neville explained. "And I know that isn't fair."
The old man smiled. "Life is quite often extremely unfair, Neville. In most families, I would have been banished at 11, if not outright killed."
"Not our families," Neville said stubbornly.
"Indeed," the old man agreed. "Not our families. I was nurtured and educated, and most importantly loved. Your Gran was my sister Kate's best friend at Hogwarts and believe it or not, we even dated a while until she met your granddad."
"Okay," the boy said eloquently. "Ew."
"Poke fun all you want," Alfred laughed. "There will come a time when you will learn to take joy in the torment of children. After I finished my education, I did my time in Her Majesties' Service, and then I traveled for a while."
The old man paused, watching as his all too mature grand nephew schooled his features. Yet another familiar trait. "I see the question in your eyes, Neville, you want to know what any of this has to do with your plans for the future."
The boy pondered this for a moment. It was hard to believe anyone this intense could possibly be 6 years old. "Are you telling me I should ignore what they did to Mum and Dad?"
"No," Alfred said with a shake of his head. "Never that. What I'm telling you is that you won't be able to do anything about it with only your wand. You will need more. You will need to know tactics, equipment, planning."
The boy's eyes went wide in surprise. "You're not going to tell me I'm too young?"
"Would it do any good?" Alfred asked.
Neville once again would not meet the man's eyes.
"You are too young, but all demanding you change your ambitions would do is have you hide them from me," Alfred pointed out, "which would mean I would not be able to help."
"You're going to help?" Neville asked hopefully.
"I am," the old man agreed. "At least at first. When you're old enough, I'll introduce you to someone who will understand your ambitions perhaps even better than you do yourself."
"I'm ready now!" the six year old decided.
"No, Neville, you're not," Alfred disagreed. "And I hope you never are, I hope there will come a time when you decide you don't need or want the training I'm going to give you, but that is up to you."
"Teach me." The boy said, and the old man knew he had lost.
-oooOOOooo-
Insert training montage.
-oooOOOooo-
Three years later nine year old Neville Longbottom stood in the entry hall of a house not terribly unlike Longbottom lodge. The building had a cavernous feel that no amount of furniture could hide.
Today was the day that determined if he had been wasting his time.
A tall dark haired man in a black polo shirt and trousers entered the room reading a book. "Did you need something Alfred?"
"Actually Master Bruce, I believe I have something you need."
The man looked up from his book, seemingly surprised to find strangers in his home, but Neville could tell that it was an act. The man not only knew they were there, but had known it before he had entered the room.
"If I may, Master Bruce, my grandnephew, Neville Longbottom, and his grandmother Augusta Longbottom."
"What is going on Alfred?" Bruce Wayne asked.
"I'm here to be trained," Neville interjected. "Uncle Alfred says that you're the best, and that you would understand."
"Trained? To do what?" Wayne asked.
"To fight," Neville explained. "To win."
"I don't know what you think I can do," the man said, until he took in the driven expression on the boy's face. "No, that's not going to happen."
With that the billionaire left the room.
"I was afraid of this," Alfred sighed. "Give me a moment, please."
-oooOOOooo-
Knowing the house ever better than its owner, Alfred caught up with his employer and son in all but blood in a few moments.
"What were you thinking Alfred?" the man thundered.
"I was thinking that Neville is on much the same mission as you are, Master Bruce," Alfred said quietly, "He is as driven as you, he is as angry as you, and in his world he is as wealthy as you."
"'In his world'? He's magical?"
"He is," Alfred acknowledged.
"So you brought him here so that he could end up like me?"
"Actually, no," Alfred corrected. "I brought him here so that he wouldn't, and I hope his presence will give you someone to care about, so as to pull you back from your own psychosis."
Bruce Wayne was many things, but he never, ever lied to himself. He could see the truth in Alfred's words… but to risk a child in his work…
"The gym, one hour," Wayne growled. What could it hurt to see what the kid could do?"
-oooOOOooo-
AN: An idea I started but could never get to go anywhere. A classic 'Neville as the 'hidden badass' trope', he finds himself working with Bruce Wayne, taking on the identity of Dick Grayson, (and Augusta becoming 'Aunt Harriet' simply because it amused me), while circulating rumors of his near Squib status to explain why no one ever sees him.
At 11 he shows up at Hogwarts under glamours as the chubby, utterly unconfident Neville of canon, while working behind the scenes to cut the Junior Death Eaters off at the knees.
If I ever get inspired I may pick it up again, but until then, free to a good home.