Chapter Two: Prongs Almost Perfect

It had never occurred to Neville that he would be spending an afternoon searching through the halls of Hogwarts for an elusive Harry Potter before Prongs had shown up. Now, of course, he found it far too common an occurrence. And wherever Harry had taken refuge, it wasn't a place that Neville could think of easily; he'd been in a similar situation for four days in a row now, and not once had he found Harry after Harry disappeared.

He didn't know quite what he'd do when he found Harry, but he knew that Harry needed someone right now, even if it was only Neville Longbottom. Neville had watched from the sidelines as Harry "Prongs" Potter had stepped into the spotlight of the Boy-Who-Lived and had eclipsed the light that had shone from Harry Potter for so long. Neville was, perhaps, the only Gryffindor that Prongs had ignored since his arrival, but he hoped that even if Prongs had played to his wishes, as he had everyone else, that he would have still seen through the facade.

And played to everyone else's wishes he had. Prongs was the perfect "Harry Potter". He had impressed every teacher he had with his skills and learning ability – except for Snape, who continued to hate him as evenly as he hated Harry. His attention to his studies had also brought him to Hermione's good side; he, too, had read Hogwarts: A History before coming to school. Prongs was also an avid Chudley Cannons fan and could go on at great length to Ron about a number of their games that he'd seen in the past, which apparently had been almost exactly the same for both timelines. In addition, Prongs seemed to have some form of Sight, and was always willing to help any Gryffindor with his or her problems. He hated Slytherins with a passion that Harry couldn't ever have matched; Neville had even heard talk of him actually replacing Harry on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a seeker since, even though the lifetime ban had been raised, Harry was still on "probation" and could only begin to play Quidditch next year if he was "well behaved" this year.

In short, all of Gryffindor House seemed to have abandoned Harry for Prongs. And as they had gravitated towards Prongs and Prongs had stepped more and more into the spotlight, Harry had slipped further and further into the shadows.

But no one seemed to have noticed this except Neville.

Harry sat on the cold ground outside Hagrid's hut and concentrated on finishing his Transfiguration essay, pulling his cloak tighter around him to block out the air that was surprisingly cold for September. If this was anything to go by, they would have snow early this year, Harry thought absently as he searched the open book in front of him for another reason why transfiguration of animals into people had been outlawed in 1530.

"You know Harry, if it gets too cold fer ya, you could go inside," Hagrid called from where he was watering something that looked like a cross between a cabbage and an eggplant but was at least three times the size and had four or five barbed vines entwining around it.

Harry called back that he was fine before returning to his essay. He had been coming out to see Hagrid almost every day for the last couple of days. Hagrid was one of the very few people who seemed to prefer him over Prongs. The first time Harry had come was on Tuesday, when Ron had taken Prongs out to practice Quidditch. Hagrid had been all too happy to have Harry help him (he'd been pruning Travignines) and had remarked that there was something he didn't like about Prongs, before hastily adding that Harry should forget that he'd said that because it was something he shouldn't have said.

Hagrid had been shocked and a bit angry that Ron and Hermione were beginning to ignore Harry in favor of Prongs, and after that Harry hadn't bothered to mention that the rest of Gryffindor House seemed to be doing the same thing. Wednesday he hadn't come down to see Hagrid since he had spent the afternoon in the library trying to look up something to help him with his potions essay that had been due this morning. Thursday he had come down but Hagrid had been teaching a class that afternoon so he'd just hung around Hagrid's hut and worked on his Charms assignment. And Friday he'd spent nearly all of his free time down with Hagrid. Harry wondered briefly if Hagrid would be accused of giving him special treatment, but he'd decided that he would make sure to make sure he earned all his grades for Care of Magical Creatures so no one could accuse him of it.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to see Neville looking down at him with a look that matched the timid tone of his voice, almost as if he were addressing an animal that was more apt to run away at the slightest movement.

"Hi, Neville," Harry nodded at his friend, moving his Transfiguration book off the stone next to him so Neville would have a place to sit down if he wanted.

"I- um… wondered if you would like some company and um… someone to talk to," Neville mumbled. When he'd finally found Harry, Neville had almost lost his nerve. The Harry that had entered Hogwarts laughing with his friends at the beginning of the year was not this withdrawn and hurt Harry that now sat before him with a gaunt look in his eyes. But the smile that lit his face at Neville's hesitant offer made Neville glad that he'd clung to his Gryffindor courage and approached his friend.

"So is this where you've been coming all week?" Neville asked, sitting down on the cold rock next to Harry.

"Yeah. I just had to get out of the Tower." The gaunt look was back but it did not hold the acidic sting that it had before. "Get away from him."

Neville nodded in understanding. "I don't blame you for wanting to put as much space between him and you as possible."

The floodgates broke. "It's just so unfair!" The Transfiguration essay was forgotten as it fell to the ground next to them. "I've been with them for six years now. And even after all that-" Harry broke off as if physically restraining his words. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have -" he muttered bashfully.

"No, you're right, Harry. He's played to their every whim, and they've all forgotten that he's not the real Harry Potter because of it."

"That's just it, Neville." Harry's hands rose to cradle his face in a gesture of hopelessness. "He is Harry Potter. He's just a perfect Harry Potter."

"He's not perfect, Harry." Neville looked around to make sure that no one could hear simply on impulse. "I found out that you still have better grades than he does in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry laughed brokenly. "Even though that's what he thinks I'm most hopeless in."

Harry managed a grin as Neville left for dinner; he'd opted to just not go. Taking his now-finished Transfiguration work, he bid Hagrid a good night as well and turned to go for a walk around the lake. He now understood what Dumbledore had meant back in his first year about Neville. Though even Neville himself didn't seem to realize it, he had a great deal of courage and loyalty. He was just too afraid to use them sometimes. Harry almost smiled as he looked out over the lake, but that half-smile melted back into his normal expression as a smug voice behind him broke into his thoughts.

"If you're going to look for a bodyguard without brains you might want to find one that can actually fight, Potter, which Longbottom cannot do, by the way."

Harry let a look of annoyance flutter across his face as he turned to look up at Draco Malfoy. "Speaking of bodyguards, Malfoy, where are yours? Up at dinner?"

A smirk sat comfortably on Malfoy's lips as he replied, "Of course. I sent them there."

"Why don't you do yourself a favor and send yourself there as well." Harry turned to look back at the lake. He didn't want to deal with Malfoy right now.

"You lose your spark without them. It's pathetic, Potter."

Harry's body seemed to freeze but he refused to turn around, refused to rise to the bait.

But Draco wasn't finished. "He's taken them all away from you, Potter. He appears to be so perfect, and they don't bother to check behind his lies to find the truth. Such wonderful friends you had for yourself, don't you agree? But they're not the only ones, are they? The teachers, even Dumbledore – whom you revere so much, are all singing his praises. Well, except my Head of House, of course, but he wouldn't do that, simply on principle. The rest of the students are quite taken with him, as well. Slytherins simply hate him, you know. And they've all forgotten about you. Every one of them, except a half-giant, a wizard who should have been born a squib, and me."

"And why do you care so much, Malfoy? You must hate him as well."

Draco laughed at Harry's droll tone. "Oh no, I don't hate him. I've seen behind the lies he weaves so elegantly. He knows it all in theory, but he can't put it into practice, Potter. He's absolutely hopeless at Defense Against the Dark Arts; I should know, I was partnered with him yesterday. He's no threat to the Dark Lord, Potter, so I actually find his silly games quite funny."

"Doesn't tell me why you seem to care so much."

"Oh, that should be quite obvious, Potter." Harry turned in time to see the smirk drop and a strange emotion take control of Malfoy's face, one that he had never seen there before. "I have an ulterior motive."

As Malfoy turned and began the walk back to the castle he called over his shoulder, "Make sure they don't replace you completely, Potter, or else I won't be able to gain anything from it."

"And what makes you think I'd care about what you'd gain?" Harry called at his retreating figure.

"Oh, you'll care, Potter. Just give it time," came the smug, sure, answer.

Harry took to sitting with Neville in every class that they shared and at meals, when he attended them. His appetite, though never as large as his other classmates, just wasn't there anymore. He delved more into his school work and by the end of the month he had almost given up on the two he had originally thought of as his best friends. Thus, he was very surprised when Ron shook him awake one morning.

"Harry, mate, wake up! I need to talk to you!"

Harry was awake in an instant. "What is it, Ron?"

"We've figured out how we're going to beat Slytherin this year!"

Harry's spirits sank a bit, but he refused to be disappointed that the first thing Ron had really said to him was about the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. "How's that?"

"Well, we still haven't really replaced you as a Seeker, and you know how important that is!" Harry's spirits rose a bit. "But we were talking to Prongs and he mentioned that he played as a Seeker, too, so we let him try out, and he's amazing, Harry! He might even be better than you!" Harry tried to tune Ron out. It was better when he had been ignoring him. "But you know he couldn't ride one of the school brooms against Slytherin, so we were wondering about getting him one before the next match."

"When's the next match?" Harry asked half-heartedly.

"Tomorrow! Merlin, Harry, where have you been? The whole school's talking about it!"

Harry mentally remarked that he hadn't been in school, in fact he tried to stay as far away from school as he could now. "Couldn't McGonagall get him a broom, like she did for me?"

"Not enough time! But then I thought, 'Well Harry has a broom that he isn't using for matches right now', and that's it! You could give Prongs your Firebolt to ride on, then we won't have to bother McGonagall for a broom, and it would be perfect, Harry!"

Harry felt something inside him ice over. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Prongs leaning against the doorway with a smirk. That something shattered.

Carefully, Harry slid out of bed, thankful that he'd just been dozing and not actually asleep so he was fully clothed and not in his pajamas. With a systematic precision he undid the locking spells he had placed on his trunk and took out his Firebolt. His eyes flittered from the broom to the look of bliss on Ron's face and then to the smug look on Prongs' face.

Slowly, he walked over to where Prongs was standing. Prongs held out a hand for the broom.

"I think that enough of my life has already been given to you, Prongs," he hissed. "And this will not be one of those things!" He pushed Prongs out of the way and made his way to the exit of the Gryffindor Common Room, ignoring Ron's shouts as he left.

Harry headed for the Quidditch Pitch, where the Slytherins would be practicing for the match. If it was tomorrow, as Ron had said, then they would have booked the field for themselves, with Snape's help; they always did.

He was not disappointed as he spotted the streaks of green circling around the Pitch. Getting close enough so they could see and hear him, he shouted, "Malfoy!"

One of the green figures slowed slightly as the rest of them turned to see who was shouting. The figure paused for a moment and then descended to the ground as Harry reached the edge of the Pitch.

"What do you want, Potter? We are in the middle of practice here." Malfoy leaned against his broom as he spoke.

"Tomorrow, in your match against Gryffindor, my House is going to use my other self as their Seeker."

Malfoy's smug look faded slightly.

"He flies, according to them, exactly like I do. Maybe even better."

The look had faded completely. "And exactly why are you telling me this? One would think you don't want them to win, taking away their advantage like this."

"Oh, I'm going to do more. They wanted me to give him my Firebolt to play on. I'm refusing to do that." He held out the broom. "I want you to play on it instead."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Potter-"

"It's just a loan, Malfoy, and I will collect it after the game. And if you do not give it back to me at that time. there is nowhere you can run where I won't find you and make you wish you'd never been born." Harry stepped closer and practically hissed. "I want you to win. But not just win, I want you to destroy them exactly as they were before I ever joined the team in my first year."

Draco's surprise melted into his comfortable smirk as he clasped the offered broom. "Alright, Potter, I'm game. I'll help them remember exactly who is the real Harry Potter around here."

Harry nodded and left the field as Draco's teammates hovered around him asking what exactly was going on. Draco didn't answer them, his eyes following Harry's retreating figure with a strange and unreadable emotion boiling beneath their surface.

Harry avoided all of Gryffindor the next day and pointedly did not go to the Quidditch match. He didn't want to see or hear his former friends cheering for Prongs. He just wanted the game to be over so that he could deal with the consequences.

And there would be consequences. He wasn't stupid. Most, if not all, of Gryffindor would be furious at him when word got around as to what he had done. Ron wouldn't keep it a secret, even if Malfoy would for some reason. Prongs definitely wouldn't keep it a secret. And when – well, if – Gryffindor lost, all the blame would shift to Harry. And he wasn't quite sure that he disliked that idea. They thought they didn't need him, or else they ignored him for Prongs. He would show them how wrong they were.

"Thought you'd be here, Potter," a voice drawled next to him, and Harry looked up from where he sat on Hagrid's front step. "I was surprised you didn't come to watch."

"How did the game go?"

"Brilliantly. 320-40, Slytherin. I'm almost loathe to give this back to you; it did so sink their spirits when they realized whose broom I was riding."

"You told them?" Harry asked, taking the offered Firebolt.

"Of course I did. You couldn't have expected me to stay silent about it."

"I didn't. I counted on it."

A crooked smile found its way through Malfoy's normal smirk. "My, my, Potter, you sound as if you're planning something. Not very Gryffindor, if I may say so."

"They've proven they don't need another Harry Potter in Gryffindor," Harry murmured.

"Very true, Potter. So where does that leave you?"

"I haven't worked things out that far yet."

"Make sure you tell me what you decide."

"What makes you think I'll tell you anything?"

"Oh, nothing much," Draco spoke flippantly as he turned to leave. "That ulterior motive of mine, remember?"

"What makes you think I'd care to remember?"

"Ouch, Potter, you wound me! After all we've been through…" Draco trailed off theatrically. "I would think you'd be a bit suspicious."

"Suspicion doesn't make me actually care; just makes me wary of you."

"Ouch! Watch were you use that forked tongue of yours, Potter. It stings like a Basilisk fang."

Before Harry could demand what exactly Malfoy meant by that, he had already left.

Harry entered the Gryffindor Common Room prepared for an onslaught, even thought it was well past curfew. He was not disappointed. Ron, Hermione, and Prongs were waiting for him.

"What was that about, Harry?" Ron shouted. "Giving your broom to Malfoy like that!"

Harry's smile didn't reach his eyes as he turned slightly to look at Ron. "I was just promoting inter-House unity."

"Why do you hate me, Harry?"

Harry turned, stunned, to look at Prongs, who was doing a very good impression of hurt innocence.

"You dislike me so much that you would rather Slytherin win the Cup?"

"It's true, Harry," Hermione added reproachfully. "You've been horrid to Prongs ever since he arrived."

Harry snorted. "I've never been horrid to anyone from Gryffindor."

"You were horrid to the whole House today!" Ron exclaimed, "Practically gave the game to Slytherin!"

"I did nothing of the sort, Ron," Harry explained sarcastically. "To give the game away I would have had to successfully bribe whoever was refereeing, and I don't even know who that was."

"You gave your broom to Malfoy!"

"You haven't been nice to me, ever since I got here. It's not my fault I got thrown into your timeline, you know," Prongs said pitifully.

Hermione and Ron were nodding, and Harry snapped. He whirled on Prongs, who had the audacity to say such to him, when it was in truth Prongs who had been horrid to Harry ever since he'd arrived.

"What are you talking about? You were the one who's hated me since you arrived here. You blame all of the problems in this timeline on me. You hate my existence, and you've told me so yourself. Stop lying!"

Prongs had gone whiter than any of the ghosts in Hogwarts.

"Snap out of it, Harry!" Hermione yelled.

Harry looked at her in surprise. "Snap out of what?"

"You were talking in Parseltounge," Ron's voice was barely a whisper.

"I couldn't have been, Ron; there are no snakes around."

"You were."

Harry looked again at Prongs' still frightened expression and found he didn't care. "Whatever. I don't really care. There's only been one Gryffindor who hasn't deserted me for him since he came here, and it's not one of you two."

Harry pushed past Hermione and Ron's startled expressions, and Prongs' now pensive one, and made his way to the boys' dorm. He needed sleep and he needed to figure out why he'd started talking in Parseltounge all of a sudden. What he did not need was any more drama for tonight.

Neville groaned to himself as he realized curfew was nearly upon him and he wasn't even halfway done writing what he wanted to for his Herbology essay. Looking at the fifteen feet he'd written – even when only ten feet was required – he admitted that he might have gone a little bit beyond what had been called for.

But it had just been so interesting! He'd been researching the Damascus herb and something had been bugging him. It was really an herb of no importance, despite its qualities as an aphrodisiac, but something had seemed… off to Neville. He'd remembered at dinner when he had been flipping through the pages of his newest Herbology book – Harry hadn't been at dinner, so he'd had no one to talk to anyway – and he flipped past the chapter on lotus blossoms. He remembered the strange muggle story called "The Time Machine" where the man had seen strange effects of certain blossoms on a group of women and, when he'd rushed back to the library, he'd found that those strange properties matched that of the Damascus herb! Of course, their description didn't match the Damascus herb at all, since the Damascus herb had no flowers. In fact, the description of the flower in question reminded him a lot of a lotus blossom. So he'd then had to see if he could find if someone had crossed the lotus and the Damascus herb, but he'd found nothing. It had taken most of his day, and he was still not finished writing about this newest thesis.

Still, he didn't dare get caught in the library after curfew. Knowing his luck, it would be Snape who caught him.

Neville packed up his parchment, quill, and ink quickly, and then began the task of replacing the books he'd been using back where he found them. As he was putting the Encyclopedia of Herbology: Volume Four back on its shelf, he heard movement from the other side of the bookcase. Someone else was in the library at this time of night? He shrugged to himself and went back to putting his books away. It wasn't really his business. He certainly wouldn't tip off any teachers to the fact that someone was studying after curfew.

He rounded the corner of the bookshelf and nearly dropped his armful of books in his attempt not to run into the person standing there.

"Watch where you're going, Longbottom."

Neville didn't say anything. He'd learned long ago that ignoring bullies like Malfoy was a better course of action than responding to them.

"I noticed you're not taken in by this new Harry," Malfoy commented thoughtfully, watching Neville with a gaze that made Neville nervous. "Perhaps you're smarter than I thought you were."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy." Neville told him, shifting the armful of books so they wouldn't fall yet again. "Excuse me, I have to put these away."

Neville was aware of the quiet footsteps that followed him as he moved from shelf to shelf, forced to walk deeper into the library to replace his books. What was Malfoy up to?

"You don't know then. About timelines."

"What?" Neville replaced his last book on the shelf.

"I thought you'd done some extra research like I did, but it turns out you just have good instinct for once."

"I don't know-"

"Of course you don't." Malfoy shoved a book into Neville's arms. "You listened to Dumbledore like a good little Gryffindor and followed after this timeline's Harry because you felt bad for him and didn't like how Prongs was acting. You weren't even the littlest bit suspicious, didn't even think for a moment that Dumbledore hadn't explained everything about the two Harrys."

"What are you saying?"

Draco's voice lowered in volume, even though Neville was sure they were the only two in the library. "What I'm saying is that Prongs is all talk. Whatever timeline he came from, it didn't have half of the dangers ours has. Compared to Harry, Prongs is weak and pathetic. But still he's destroying Harry. Read chapter four, Longbottom, and think about it. Think about what will happen if Harry suddenly disappears and Prongs has to fight the Dark Lord."

Malfoy whirled around and vanished into the shadows of the library with only muffled footsteps to mark his passing. Slowly, Neville looked down at the book he held. It was no library book. Not with that gold seal upon its spine. This book had come from Malfoy Manor, if the Malfoy crest was anything to go by. Why in Merlin's name would Malfoy give him a book like this?

But he was curious. Something was up with Malfoy, something that Malfoy thought was very important. Something that had to do with Harry and Prongs. Malfoy's last words were haunting; Neville didn't have to think very hard to imagine the carnage of the Dark Lord against Prongs. Prongs would stand no chance. Even Neville himself was better at Defense Against the Dark Arts than Prongs was.

Opening the cover, Neville moved to the window. In the moonlight, the silver words of the book's title glowed in foreboding.

Timeline Manipulation: A Battle of Strength

status: beta'd by Ayeshah Harvey-Lomas