Harry might've had his parents murdered in cold blood. He might've been the only one who survived the Killing Curse. But he wasn't The Boy Who Lived. He was The Boy Who Died.Harry was unlike his parents. They were warm and loving; he was cold — wouldn't smile, wouldn't make a sound as if he was a graveyard. Nonetheless, his parents loved him with all their hearts.

The night Voldemort's spell backfired, the emptiness in his chest was replaced with cruelty.Harry became The Boy Who Died — never Harry, son of caring Lily and brilliant James, but a reflection of the Dark Lord. Harry Potter was dead, and in his body was Lord Voldemort himself.Meanwhile, Neville Longbottom, the other one who could be The Boy Who Lived, was in the arms of his mother, his father smiling at him. They didn't know — no one did, really — that the child they're holding was the Wizarding World's hope for the days to come.

———

When Harry was sorted into Slytherin, the Great Hall was a sea of whispers. The Boy Who Lived, a Slytherin? The people couldn't believe it.

However, when Neville was sorted into Gryffindor, the Gryffindor table was nothing but cheers and applause.

Four years later, they're in their fifth years. It's been established a year ago by a prophet that Neville was The Boy Who Lived, because, Dumbledore explained, there were two people who were born as July dies — Harry and Neville. When Harry was hit by the Killing Curse, he died metaphorically, thus making Neville The Boy Who Lived. After that, Harry became more invested in the Dark Arts, despite Luna telling him not to get involved.

Neville, on the other hand, became good friends with Ron Weasley, Hufflepuff, and a fellow Gryffindor, Hermione Granger. They'd save Hogwarts every year, like it's nobody's business.Neville'd, advised by Dumbledore, approach Harry sometimes, get to know him, and maybe even coax him out of the Dark Side. But Harry was having none of it.

Today, however, proved to be significantly different.

"Hey, Harry," Neville said.

"Longbottom," Harry replied, and Neville was taken aback. Usually, Harry'd say it with a sneer, but now, he seemed exhausted.

Neville took a good look at him. Harry had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, his forehead wrinkled with worry.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked.

"Harry!" a voice called. Luna Lovegood.

The kindness that she has is one that you would not expect from a Slytherin, and Luna erased all prejudiced thoughts from Neville's mind.

She said, "I told you to get some rest. Why are you up?"

"Luna," Harry hissed lowly, but Neville could still hear. "I kept having these dreams."

"I told you not to get involved! You're going to get yourself killed! You're looking for the wrong kind of attention—" Luna stopped, as if realizing they had company. She turned to Neville, "I'm sorry, I'll just—"

"No, it's alright." Neville shrugged, turning to Harry. "She's right. I know, even if you don't, there's still some good in you, Harry."

"You know nothing," Harry seethed. "You're just lucky not to be targeted by Voldemort as a child." He stomped away, leaving Luna and Neville.

"Is he really seeking for attention?" Neville asked cautiously.

"Not in a bad way," Luna said. "Ever since he was sorted to Slytherin, it's like all his potential was nonexistent to all the people disappointed that he didn't end up in, say, Gryffindor. He just wants to be seen.

"So he resorted to the Dark Arts, where the Death Eaters recognize his power." She sighed sadly. 

"Loneliness can cloud a person's judgment and make them do bad things."

"Loneliness? Isn't he always with you?"

"Just because he has someone by his side doesn't mean he isn't lonely."

————

Harry looked like he'd been awake all night again. The circles under his eyes were darker, his hair even messier.

In a class with the Gryffindors, Harry found himself sitting between Luna and Neville.

"Harry's excellent at Potions," Luna told Neville.

"Really?"

"No need to sound incredulous," Harry said sourly.

"It's just . . . weird. I didn't peg you for the Potions type. I thought you're more of the DADA sort."

"He's both, actually," Luna boasted.

"Huh," Neville commented. "Then, can you teach us?"

"Teach?" Harry echoed. "'Us'?"

"Well, some of us fifth years started a group. We call it Dumbledore's Army. Basically, we learn stuff that Umbridge refuses to teach us, but we need someone more experienced to teach."

"And aren't you more qualified to do that?" Harry questioned. 

"You did face the Dark Lord already."

"Only twice," Neville admitted, "and someone always defended me."

"Not so high on your pedestal now, are you?" Harry snickered.

Luna nudged him.Harry said finally, "I'll do it.""Can I join, too?" Luna asked.

————

During the ungodly hours of the next morning, Dumbledore's Army met in the Room of Requirement.

"Why's he here?" Ron spat, seeing Harry.

"He's here to teach us," Neville explained.

"Teach us to become Death Eaters?" Ron retorted.

"You're the one who needs my help, not the other way around," Harry snarled, making Ron roll his eyes.

"He excels in DADA, and that's the kind of teacher that we need," Hermione said.

"Thank you for your support. Couldn't have done anything without you," Harry said sarcastically.

"Are you lot just going to bicker?" Ginny, Gryffindor, said. "Let's get started!"

"Alright." Harry's voice was controlled. "Let's start with the basics, considering none of you know rudimentary spells."

"Just can't shut his mouth, can he?" Ron muttered.

"He wouldn't be able to teach us, then," Luna said lightly.

"Disarming may not seem like much, but the wand is a wizard's power; take it away and they're weak. Longbottom, if you may." Harry gestured in front of him.

Neville stood before Harry, his wand brandished.

"Expelliarmus!"

Neville's wand flew up, and Harry caught it easily. He looked at the students and said, "Pair up. Disarm your partners. Show me you're not as hopeless as I think you are."

"Does he really think we're all hopeless?" Neville whispered to Luna.

Luna smiled. "No. If he did, he wouldn't bother coming here." A pause. "Expelliarmus!"

Luna smirked, throwing his wand back. "Constant vigilance, Longbottom."

By the end of the day, everyone had mastered the spell, and left the Room, Harry being the first one. Neville caught up to him.

"Thanks for coming. It was really helpful.

"Harry bit back a comment. "When's the next meeting, Longbottom?"

"Whenever convenient for you."

"Never, then?" Harry sniggered, before saying, "next week."

————

"Today'll be about casting Patronuses. It's simple: think about your happiest memory and say the incantation."

"Expecto Patronum." From the tip of Harry's wand came a stag — ethereal, mesmerizing.

"You're not a Death Eater." Hermione couldn't stop herself. "Death Eaters can't do that, which means you're on the good side."

"I'm on neither side, Granger." Harry's voice was quiet. "The light uses people as pawns, the dark kills mercilessly — both are feeding off prejudice and desperation."

"But why are you so obsessed in the Dark Arts?" Ron asked.

"That's," Harry said, "not your problem." He turned to everyone, and they all started to practice.

When everyone was finished, only a few people could produce corporeal Patronuses.Suddenly, the wall exploded, revealing Dolores Umbridge."

Bombarda Maxima!"

"Go, go!" Neville ushered everyone outside. The last one out was Neville, just as Umbridge entered the Room, missing him by a millisecond.

————

Harry awoke, breathless, sweaty. Another nightmare.

He found Luna in the common room, her head resting on the table, a pile of books beside her.

"Luna," Harry whispered, shaking her awake.

"Harry?"

"Something's happening. In the Department of Mysteries."

————

They ran. They'd agreed to go to the Forbidden Forest and ride the Thestrals so they can go to the Ministry, when suddenly—

"Fancy seeing you two here," Ron said. Beside him were Hermione, Ginny, and Neville.

"We're going to the Ministry," said Luna.

"We're going there, too," Neville said, ignoring Hermione. "Had a nightmare, Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He sprinted again, heading for the Forest, the others behind. He whistled, and six creatures arrived. He mounted one, as did Luna.

"Well?" he said when no one else moved a muscle.

"They can't see it," Luna explained. "Only those who've witnessed death can see the Thestrals, remember?"

"I can see it," Neville said. He blinked, releasing a sigh and mounting a Thestral. "Come on," he told the others.

"How? I can't see it," Hermione said.

"For god's sake." Harry unmounted his Thestral, stomped to Hermione, carried her by the waist and hoisted her up. He did the same to Ginny. When he turned to Ron, the boy said, "you're not getting your hands on me, Potter.

"With Neville's guidance, Ron mounted the Thestral uneasily and, without a warning, they flew into the night.

————

Ron jumped off first, muttering, "never again, never again."

Harry, meanwhile, wasted no time and entered the place. He knew a secret passageway leading inside. The others followed.

As if entranced, Neville and Harry led the group easily. When they arrived at the Department of Mysteries, it's like they knew exactly what they're searching for.

Neville was the first to reach it. A crystal ball, initials engraved on the label, along with Voldemort, Harry, and Neville's names.

"Very good," a voice said. "Now, hand it over, and all of you shall leave unscathed."

All six slowly turned, and standing thirty feet before them was Lucius Malfoy, along with other Death Eaters.

"Harry?" Lucius faltered.

"You're helping Neville?" another voice said. Bellatrix.

"He trusted you," Lucius said.

"Voldemort trusts no one," Harry snarled.

"You dare speak his name—!" Bellatrix gasped.

"We're not afraid of Voldemort," Neville said.

"Our master had high expectations of you," Lucius said, ignoring Neville. "What went wrong?"

"I refuse to do his dirty work if he won't recognize my skill."

"That's not true," Lucius began.

"Stop trying, Lucius," Bellatrix interrupted. "I always thought he was useless. Kill them all!"

"NO!" Lucius screamed. "If the prophecy is harmed, he will have our heads. Let's reason with them."

Neville laughed darkly. "Reason? Insanity cannot reason with the sane." He paused. "NOW!"

"Bombarda!" they yelled, and everything came crashing. In the chaos, Neville didn't notice Harry stealing the prophecy. He and the others ran, but Harry stayed.

When everything settled, Harry was left standing, holding the prophecy high. "You wanted this?"

"Give it to me, and the Dark Lord shall reward us all."

"I want to be the one who gives this to Voldemort."

"Foolish boy," Bellatrix said. "Just hand it over!"

"Let the boy have the credit he deserves, Bellatrix."

Harry slowly inched towards the them, still wary. But his heart yearned for the recognition, and his lungs felt like lead; if he didn't do this, he knew he could never breathe.

"No, Harry!" Neville roared from afar. He ran towards him as fast as his burning legs would allow. "Don't do it, Harry. You said it yourself; both sides feed off prejudice. You and I both know it's about damn time for change. Don't give it to them."

Harry blinked, and Neville could see the desperation in his eyes. The poor boy had lived without parents, without a home. He just wanted a place where he felt wanted and accepted.

"Hogwarts is your home, Harry. Always."

Harry's breathing hitched. He knew Neville was right, but there was this . . . clawing somewhere inside him that begged him to do it. His mind went numb, hands trembling, tears escaping his eyes. And, with an agonizing scream, he threw the prophecy to the ground.

"Stupefy!" It hit Bellatrix square in the face.He and Neville ran until they found the others outside. They slowed to a walk, and Luna called the Thestrals again. They rode the creatures and flew back home.

As they flew, adrenaline thrumming in their veins, they knew that, with The Boy Who Lived and The Boy Who Died, Lord Voldemort didn't stand a chance.

Congratulations, and thank you for a great read Neptunelies