Voldemort chose to kill Neville instead of Harry. Neville's mother just like Harry's sacrificed herself to save her only son. This is a story about Harry, just Harry.

Harry was sitting near the fireplace in the gryffindor common room. He was feeling under the weather because he had just received a Howler from his parents for getting caught in kitchen late at night trying to steal food from kitchens with Ron. Ron was already in bed dreaming about getting a head-boy badge from Dumbledore. Stealing food had always been fun but he never knew he would get caught by professor Sprout. He was angry, not on Ron, not on Professor Sprout but on his parents. How could they send him a Howler just because he was trying to steal some food? He couldn't stop but think about the moment when everyone was laughing in the Great Hall (even Professor Snape). Couldn't his mother see how embarrassed he was? Did she even love him or not? How could she expect him to be well-mannered? After all he was his father's son or if that was not enough, he was his God-father's God-son.

The common room was almost empty. Hermione was helping Neville with his homework. No. She was helping the famous Neville Longbottom, the boy who lived, with his homework. Harry caught sight of Neville's red lightening scar shinning under his boring flat hair. A mark to be proud of. A mark that always made him the centre of attention wherever he went. A mark that made him famous even after being so dumb. He was always jealous of him, the chosen one. The way that mark shined on his forehead. The way everyone pointed a finger towards him, everyone running to shake his hand. The way he payed no attention to those who payed so much attention to him. Sometimes he thought why couldn't the dark Lord choose him instead, why couldn't he enter his house and kill his parents and make him famous instead? Why couldn't he have that scar, instead of Neville? His life would've been great with that scar. No Howlers, no restrictions from anyone because he was a celebrity, no one would laugh at him just because he had got a stupid Howler from fussy parents, and how fun it would be to ignore people's astonished faces because they had seen him. How would it have looked in Daily Prophet: "HARRY POTTER, THE BOY WHO LIVED"?

Quite weird but yet amazing. He did love his parents and all that, but he thought that living without parents would be better. He didn't like all those rules and restrictions, and how the fear of getting scolded always stopped him from doing anything naughty (although he still did everything against the rules). How Neville never got a Howler from anyone, he had all the money in his hands, he could buy as many chocolate frogs as he wanted, do whatever he wanted to and yet everyone felt pity for him because he had no parents."But, thought Harry, it wouldn't be that bad to be an orphan celebrity". Everyone would love him and do him favors, his life would be easy... Slamming of door brought him to the reality once again. Hermione and Neville had just left the common room. He just remembered that Hermione had said him good-night before leaving. He got up to go to his dormitory and prepare himself for another stupid dream.

Five minutes later, he was about to sleep when he saw a shiny silvery thing under his bed. It was the invisibility clock his father had given him for his 10th Birthday A wild thought flashed in his mind. He wanted to do something his God-father would do. After all he was James' son. He picked the clock and ran outside again, out through the hole (Fat Lady's portrait was a bit angry)...Harry was running down the corridor under his Invisibility clock, he was thinking of going to kitchen again. Everything was going fine until he heard the footsteps. It was Finch, it was Finch for sure! He was dead! Next moment he would be on Hogwarts Express going back London and then to Godric's Hollow, back with his parents. Finch's face was scary due to the angle of light. Harry was standing with the wall, his heart in his mouth. One small move and he would be dead, but Finch went forward. Harry felt relieved, maybe death was waiting for any other night. Suddenly Harry realized he was standing next to a door.

He went inside quietly. It was a disused class room. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, but there was something else too. It was a magnificent Mirror with an ornate gold frame. There was an inscription carved around the top: "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi". He moved closer, Took off his clock and stared at the mirror. He just realized how messy his hair had been. He slid them away from his forehead, just like his father used to do, and thought of going back to his dormitory because this didn't seem to be his day. He, suddenly, caught sight of something on his forehead. It was flashing brightly, he slid his hair a bit more to get a better look and the sight forced him to give a small scream. Neville's scar was shining on his forehead...and behind him were a lot of people clapping and cheering with posters. One of then read; "THE WHO LIVED ROCKS", and another one said: "HARRY POTTER, OUR HERO". And Harry was smiling, but his smile wasn't like it should've been. He had something Harry had never seen on his own face. That smile was a bit uncomfortable, it was clear that it was a forced smile instead of a real one. Harry ( real) wondered why the Harry in the mirror wasn't happy when he had everything. He was famous, he had his fans, no rules to follow, his life was perfect. What could make him that pissed?

While Harry was there looking in the mirror, Neville was in the bed thinking about his parents. Thinking about the pictures he had seen of them. He wondered why was he the chosen one, why couldn't it be someone else. He didn't want to be famous, he didn't want to walk everywhere with that scar, he didn't want to be the centre of attention. All he wanted was his parents. He always envied Harry, Hermione and all the other kids, how they were living with their parents, how they used to get letters and Howlers from them, for doing anything bad or good. He had no one, no one to shout at him, no one to appreciate him, no one to love him, just a scar on his forehead and fans. What kind of life it was? He thought of what Snape once said when he had failed to make a potion: "Fame clearly isn't everything". "Fame really isn't everything, thought Neville, in fact its nothing compared to what all the kids have but i don't.
You never know a parent's weight until its lifted.