Chapter Text
Neville is a totally unoticeable remnant, yet nearly admiral of a long, cold war. In another lifetime he would've been the baseline for rebuilding the Wizarding World, his birth a butterfly effect bringing the death of Dark Lord Voldemort. Paralleling the Chosen One in this lifetime: Harry Potter.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...
Good versus evil; dark versus light- "Saviour of the universe". He could've been a fairy tale hero. He could've blossomed into a noble martyr nicely. This worlds Matyr, Harry Potter, is one of the obverse few who knows this prophecy. Harry and Neville, both narrowly avoiding who they would've (rightfully?) been.
Despite this, it's hard to imagine Neville in that light. To the unpeeled eye, there is nothing of interest. His hair fixedly sits in tufts and grimaces in the great hall every morning when he routinely flavours tea with salt instead of sugar. He grins toothily to his slimy toad, lovingly named Trevor and succeeds in Herbology and Herbology only.
Harry is merely observant enough to notice this, alongside new bruises on his pale skin or unusual patterns of tossing in the night. It's hard to not notice someone almost shackled with being you. They crowd in the common room together, walk to the same classes together and harbour the same hatred of Bellatrix Lestrange, and by obvious extension, Voldemort.
Alice and Frank Longbottom were tortured by her heartlessly until their sanity snapped - Neville must loathe her - but Harry only knows of this catastrophe from his excessive prying, his excessive interest in Neville. He understands, though, he feels the same way (rage in his heart didn't settle for months after his godfather died and he itched at his skin for regret of not casting one more unforgivable curse. He doesn't need to think about what concerned Sirius, it's always there anyway).
Harry's empathy for Neville shocks himself, as anyone would tell you he has the emotional range of a teaspoon. Cho's blatantly absurd behaviour blinded him beyond reason. Cho acted like she couldn't afford to be happy nor easy to appease. It was incredibly difficult, how Cho and Neville differed in every way. One size does not fit all. Perhaps Harry wasn't meant to understand these trials- perhaps his proceeding relationships would be as shallow as Ron and Lavenders:
We don't actually talk much. It's mostly just, you know.
Snogging?
Yeah.
Neville would probably be a better Chosen One, which is an eccentric statement, to say the least.
It's obsessive to state that Harry has become a footnote in his own life, which, before Harry could realise, became shadowing Neville Longbottom and noticing him in any room.