A/N - Updated 2/12/17. Thanks to sonotawriter for betaing.

Notes about my Headcanon/Story choices at the bottom for those interested or who have questions.

Neville and the Do-Over

Chapter 1 – All is Lost

(May 2nd, 1998.)

Neville walked the grounds around the castle. His tired face, dirty and sad. He kicked the rubble as he walked - thinking. Everyone was in the Great Hall; crying and laughing over the dead. He couldn't stand it, he understood that they were happy to be alive and happy the war was over, but so many were dead – too many were dead.

His left hand fiddled with the contents of his pocket, tracing the grooves in the metal tube he had carried with him for so long. He could go back, he could save so many lives, if only he had the nerve. The faces of the dead haunted him, especially the students – his friends - like Colin and Nigel. They had grown into a family: hiding and planning in the Come and Go Room; fighting the Carrows, fighting for each other and for those who could not fight for themselves. Now they were shattered – over half of them were dead and the rest were little more than shells (their eye's clouded and empty). They had looked to him, he had led them, and now he had failed them all.

It was hard to know which death troubled him the most. Lavender's death was the worst – Greyback was a true monster. He had never been fond of Lavender, until the last few months, but even if she hadn't bloomed into a true Gryffindor in this last year (someone he respected - that they all respected), she still wouldn't have deserved her death - he couldn't think of anyone that did (beyond perhaps Voldemort, Bellatrix or Greyback himself).

Then there was Fred – his death was like the death of joy from the world. Sure, he had never been close with Fred or George (he couldn't even tell them apart, but even their family struggled with that – which the twins had loved), but then in a way, everyone was close to Fred and George – that was just the Weasley twins. Just running their joke shop had done so much for the war effort; they might as well have been selling hope by the bottle.

Lupin and his Auror bride (he felt bad that he couldn't remember her name from when Lupin had mentioned her by name, before a PotterWatch broadcast) they were likely the saddest of the deaths. He hadn't seen the Professor much and never met his Auror wife (at least not that he knew of), but he found their deaths hard to stomach. He empathized with their child - of who he didn't even know the name, but who would now be orphaned having no memory of his parents (only having the stories of others and the knowledge that they had died fighting for what was right - yes, that he could relate to quite easily). 'And that was just one Battle', he thought to himself, trying to shake the thought from his mind.

Countless lives had ended in the two wars with Voldemort, he knew he couldn't save them all. There were thousands dead at the Dark Lord's hands, but even if he could only save a fraction of them - even if he could only save those who had died this day - he had to try. Didn't he? Try to stop the years of death and sorrow that was the second war – as if the first hadn't been bad enough.

His nail slipped over the metal grooves, making a soft clicking at each nail moved down to the next groove on the tube. Maybe he was just selfish and was justifying it all to himself. Maybe, but then maybe he didn't care. He couldn't live like this, he couldn't just do nothing when he had the choice. The last years had changed him, the war had changed him, he wasn't afraid anymore (he wouldn't have made it if he was).

He could go back to that Halloween all those years ago. He would have to let James and Lily Potter die - if they didn't then the Dark Lord would continue to ravage the world, and he needed that time with him gone, to keep him from coming back (or at least set up an ambush when he did come back). No, he couldn't save Harry's parents, and he hoped Harry would understand, but he could keep Sirius Black out of Azkaban so that Harry wouldn't have to live with his Aunt and Uncle. Yes, he could do that much for Harry. Then he would stop the attack on his parents, and use them to get into the Order. He would tell Dumbledore everything and fight in the Order until Voldemort was gone for good (or until he himself was killed). He could do that much, he could make sure this day never happened.

Making his way back into the castle, he had decided he wasn't going to debate himself any longer, and that he was going to need some things. He made his way to the 7th floor, and to the Room of Requirement. Wondering, at first, what he should ask the room to be, he paused in thought. Upon deciding, he noticed the door forming more slowly than usual, and on entering the room, he felt the room seemed weak somehow. He touched the cool wall and frowned, he had come to be quite fond of the Come and Go Room. 'Maybe it suffered with the school'.

The room was small, and empty beside a small table in the middle with various items. Inspecting the table he found a book bag, which on further inspection he found had an Undetectable Extension Charm on the small inside pocket. He dropped the strap of the bag onto his shoulder and moved on to the other items on the table. A roughly folded bundle, that felt like silk was his next find – an invisibility cloak. The rest of the items looked a lot like the things Moody had in his office (or rather, things that the fake Moody had in his office).

He wondered if it was his request or the room that gave such a small result but decided not to try again so that he would not risk hurting the room. He wandered down to the Dungeons to Snape's personal stores, just off of the old Potions classroom (neither of which had Slughorn taken over with the class – saying the dungeons were too depressing). Out in the greenhouse, he took anything that could be useful for his plan (he would have to travel unseen as he waited to follow Sirius Black from the Potters on Halloween night, and he would likely need to stay hidden as he made sure Pettigrew didn't get away this time, and until he saved his parents - after that he'd leave it up to Dumbledore).

Standing outside the Greenhouse, he took a quick look at his new bag, with only the Invisibility Cloak in the main pocket, he pondered the items he had found. The cloak might not even work that well, even if there was nothing wrong with the room (they had a limited life – the Spell needed mending overtime, or the enchantment would fade). Unsure where to go, he decided to go have a little talk with the House Elves. Students mostly seemed to think of the House Elves only when they were hungry – but they could do so much more.

On his way back into the castle, he didn't notice the three figures in the distance, that seems to stop and watch him as he walked off with purpose and determination. He hurried through the castle to the kitchens, careful to avoid the mass of people in the Great Hall. Those that did see him gave him a weak smile, and one even squeezed his shoulder as they passed. Finally, at the painting to the kitchens, he tickled the pear until it giggled.

On entering the kitchens, he saw the House Elves were having their own celebration – at least half of them were, while the other half worked and shot them disapproving glances. A couple of the working elves hurried up to him, asking if he was hungry and demanding to know when everyone was going to eat.

"I-I'd guess most will just want to go to bed after today." They glared at him, and he swallowed hard, desperate to think of something. "But I'm sure they would be thankful if they found some sandwiches or something in their Common Rooms or Dorms." He added. Two seemed happier with this, but one still eyed him. "And … and if there was Pumpkin Juice and Butter Beer..." The elf's stare lessened, "and... dessert," he tried and relaxed when the elf almost looked happy. "Yeah, dessert in little bowls with a spoon, so people can eat it in bed... that would be really great." Now pleased, the elf bowed low and left with one of the other elves (leaving him in the hands of the spindly elf in an immaculate tea towel with the Hogwarts crest on it).

"Is Master wanting some food?" She chirped hopefully (at least he guessed by the higher pitched voice that the elf was female).

"Yea... is there" He paused, "any food, that would stay good for a long time in my bag, without me needing to charm it to stay good?"

"Wemsi is finding it, sir." Wemsi bowed quickly and left with a crack. Neville sat on one of the several tiny chairs, to wait. After only a few moments, Wemsi was back with a platter of what looked like square oatmeal cookies. "Trav'lers Treats, Sir!" She presented proudly. "Not be stale or rotting sir, and tastes like what you be wanting the most, sir."

"Wow! Thanks, Wemsi."

"My pleasures, sir." The elf beamed. "Can I be serving you some mores, sir?"

"There wouldn't be a book with like every piece of magic one could want for a long journey? A journey that will likely involve staying out of sight with little food or shelter. Would there happen to be such a book?"

"No sir, but these" CRACK! A stack of books as tall as Wemsi appeared, "would be helping sir." Neville beamed at the elf, who stood proudly, and neither noticed as the painting to the kitchen cracked open. Neville piled the books into his bag. "Anything else sir is needing for his journey?" The elf said hopefully.

"Can you tell me if this Invisibility Cloak is fully functional?" He handed the bundle of smooth fabric over, and the elf took it into her spindly hands.

"I makes it to, sir." The elf snapped her fingers over the bundle, before handing it back with a nod.

"Thank you, Wemsi – I'll always remember you." Neville said before the elf could ask to help more. "You should step back now. Thank you again." Neville smiled kindly at the elf, hoping she didn't take his advice as an insult.

He put the cloak around him but did not pull it closed. His shaky hand pulled the metal tube from his pocket, "Time to go," he muttered to himself, holding the tube in both hands, "goodbye Hogwarts." He said looking sadly around the kitchen, but missing the brown eyes watching him from the door. "Goodbye, Wemsi." Looking down at the tube in his hands he let out a long breath and turned the two ends of the tube in opposite directions. Click, Click, Click.

"Neville!" He jerked (Click, Click) to look at the voice in Horror. Bushy brown hair and tattered clothes charged him. "What do you -"

"I'm sorry, Hermione!" His eyes were sad but determined. "I have to." He turned back to his hands, concentrating. Click, Click, Click, Click.

"No, you can't," She grabbed him by the elbow. He jerked again (Click, Click) but couldn't shake her, "Even if you knew what we had done!" She reached for the device, but only pulled his hand away – and with a final click, the world spun around them. "Oh, no." She held tighter to his arm.

"Let go, Hermione, it will only be a few hours."

"You don't know that!" She yelled her hair whipping around. "It's not like before!"

"What?" He yelled against the wind.

"We stay together!" She yelled at him, but he struggled to hear her. Her grip on his arm tightened, quite painfully, and he struggled to wrap his other arm around her. "It's...getting... worse!" He could barely hear her now, but with a huff, he clapped his hand onto her shoulder and held her tightly to his chest (a brief relief as she let go of his arm in order to grip the back of his robes). The wind grew, whipping so harshly it burned his eyes.

They stood there, clutching each other against the wind that beat against them. His eyes shut tight, head down using her bushy hair to shield his face from the cutting wind (as he hid her face between his chest and the arm that held her). The force of the winds battered them, forcing them to sway back and forth as they clung together, arms burning with exertion. It felt like they had been standing there for hours in that horrible wind, when suddenly they were ripped apart, flying away from each other and landing hard on the stone kitchen floor.

Neville blinked at the light and shaded his face with his hand. A shimmering see-through fabric slides smoothly against his fingers. 'What? Oh, the cloak', he remembered. He stood up, the right side of his body ached more with every moment, and he was slightly woozy, but he had been in worse shape. He saw a lump on the floor on the other side of the room. 'Hermione!' He rushed to her but his feet felt funny and he tripped over the end of his cloak – smashing his nose into the stone. He let out a whimper of pain and looked over at Hermione; she was surrounded by House Elves. The group's high voices talked of the Hospital and Headmaster while three of the closest looked around the kitchen but looked right through him. CRACK! The only part of Hermione that he had been able to see (the soles of her trainers), had disappeared, and the remaining House Elves dispersed.

Neville picked himself up, and carefully limped from the kitchen. Stepping through the painting passage, he glanced back to see a few Elves were gathered around a small puddle of blood – he touched his nose and winced as the metal tube clashed against the wound – bringing tears to sting his eyes. He shoved the device into his bag and stumbled down the hall. He didn't know if he should follow Hermione to the Hospital or if that would only make things worse. He had planned on going unseen until he ready to tell Dumbledore everything and let him figure out the mission he had given Harry. If he could make it to the seventh floor, he could patch himself up in the Room of Requirement, but that seems a long order and he needed information. He needed to know when he was, to know if Lily and James Potter had gone into hiding yet – and a couple potions for this pounding head (the one that tried to clog his thoughts). 'Hagrid', he thought, yes Hagrid would have the information he needed (maybe even a potion or two).

Neville limped off to the gamekeeper's hut, knowing he could get his answers from a trusted source and see a friendly face. He focused on his feet as he moved down the path (not wanting a repeat of earlier and end up tumbling down the hill to Hagrid's). He smiled when he saw the smoke coming up from the chimney and the light flooding out the small window. It had worked! Hagrid's hut was in perfect condition. He hobbled to the door excitedly and knocked, ignoring the growing feeling of nausea and the pounding in his head (that brought a gray haze to the edge of his vision, but he had been in worse shape - he didn't even really feel any pain). A younger Hagrid opened the door and looked around confused. 'The cloak!' Neville scolded himself, pulling it off quickly, causing the giant man to jump back.

"Sorry, Hagrid! It's just me, I didn't mean to give you a fright."

"And who might you be?" His voice was gruff.

"It's me Neville, Neville Longbot-" His eyes got big and he felt his body stiffen. 'Stupid! Stupid! Of course, he doesn't know you! What were you thinking! You went back in time!' His heart jumped into his chest and the pounding in his head spiked as his vision suddenly went hazy.

His eyes rolled back and he collapsed right there on Hagrid's front stoop, leaving a very confused Hagrid to scoop him up and set him in a very large arm chair. Hagrid filled a mug with water and returned to the boy – staring down at him. For the life of him, he did not know the boy, but the boy seemed earnest, that much he knew. Hagrid stared at him for another moment before throwing the water onto the boy's face. Neville sat up with a jolt; his eyes wide.

"'Ello, Neville." He turned to the voice and saw the shaggy man in the corner.

"Hagri-" The boy stopped and the happiness drained out of his face as his body went stiff.

"Ah Ha! So ya do know me!" Neville's eyes were pleading. 'What have I done?' "Talk, boy."

"Give me your word, that you won't tell a soul!"

"Why would I keep my word to you?"

"Because you're a good man, and because we're friends..."

"Oh? Are we now?" Hagrid leaned forward, his elbow on his knee.

"You've always wanted a dragon. You were framed by Tom Riddle for Moaning Myrtle's death. He claimed it was your pet Aragog, an Acromantula, who is living in the Forbidden Forest. You're a Half-Giant, and that pink umbrella" Neville pointed to it by the fire, as he gasped a breath before continuing "Has your snapped wand in it." He finished.

"Ye do seem to know me..." Hagrid leaned back nodding, "Alright not a word."

"I traveled back in time, from 1998, hoping to save those who died at Voldemort's Hands." Hagrid flinched at the implication but Neville assumed it was the name. "...Sorry..." Neville added weakly.

"...It lasts that long?"

"There was peace for a while." Neville tried to comfort him.

"You need to tell Dumbledore." Hagrid said offering him a green steak for his face, and Neville accepted (breathing deeply to keep the pounding in his head down and to keep the haziness at bay).

"Answer me a question or two first." Neville managed, trying to focus.

"Alright."

"What year is it?"

"1975."

"What? It should have been '81. The war's barely begun - he's only just come into the public eye as more than a Political figure ... I-I won't even be born for five years." Neville stared off, a look of shocked terror on his face – 'What if I do something and I'm never born? If I'm never born then, how am here to make it so that I'm not born? Would I just disappear or would I go through everything just to have time revert back when there isn't a me to go back in time? Do my actions only count if I can make sure I'm born and then force myself to go back and do everything I end up doing? Would that even need to happen? I guess I just have to assume that I will be born still because here I am - Mom and Dad have just left school (or will I guess if it's early in the year), that will make avoiding them easier? Maybe? What about Harry? I could still make him not get born, and his parents are younger. If Harry is never born then will Voldemort never disappear or will I take his place? Or will someone new met the prophecy?' Hagrid seemed to realize the boy's panic and the need for answers.

"You really need Dumbledore." Hagrid stood, and grabbed Neville by the shoulder, picking him up and setting him on his feet. Neville winced, concentrating on not hurling or passing out or both (that would be bad). "But maybe the Hospital wing first." Hagrid amended as the rest of the color ran out of Neville's face and the boy seemed to sag a little.

"Sounds good," Neville wheezed, clutching his ribs with one hand and still holding the steak to his face with the other, as he tried to decide if he was swaying or not. "My friend was taken there by the House Elves." Hagrid stared at him. "...long story..." He tried to smile, his voice was exhausted and he swayed dangerously. Hagrid reached out a hand to steady him. "Than-anksss..." Suddenly, his knees buckled as his vision went black, leaving Hagrid to scoop him up like he was nothing, cradling him in his arms (like a child with a doll).

A/ N

Notes about my Headcanon: (1) Neville - I always kind of had the idea that Neville and Hermione were good friends and that around 3rd-4th year Harry, Ron, and Neville became pretty good friends too. (Obviously she spent most of her time with Harry and Ron and they were her best friends, but I always figured behind the scenes she was talking regularly with and studying with/helping Neville - like those first few months of their first year and whenever Harry and Ron were fighting with her, or just when she was in the library and they were off doing whatever). Which means, that between that and seeing Order members for the PotterWatch broadcasts, I think Neville would know a lot about Harry's adventures and the war (he wouldn't know about the Horcruxes, but he would know about the diary and what it did, and that Harry had been on a mission that no one could now about, and then that something of Ravenclaws could have to do with Harry's mission, and that the snake had to die before Voldemort). (2) Frank and Alice - I know it's common in fanon to make them the same age and best friends with Lily and James, but at least from the books, movies, and what I have seen from JK to me there seems to be more reason to think that they are at least a few years older than Lily and James. My personal headcanon was that they were Prefects and or Heads when Lily and James started school and that the four didn't become good friends until around '79 from fighting in a war together (and were more like mentors before that, if anything). So in this story, Frank and Alice were 7th years when James and Lily were 4th years. (3) The War - from what I remember about the first war in the books, it seemed to me that the War was brewing for ten or twenty years before it broke out, and that for several years (late 60's or early 70's) many adults saw the signs that something bad was coming/happening but that it was in the background enough that many could convince themselves that it would all blow over. I always figured that Jame and Lily's generation didn't start catching on until their 4th-5th year and that the war hadn't actually started (that time when everyone realized that this isn't just some rebellious group that would be squashed by the Ministry) until their 6th year. Thank you to a Guest Commenter, AvidReader (comment on ch2) and Elased who mentioned some of the points above - hope you don't mind my take too much.

Tell me how well I communicated that: (1) Neville was in a pretty bad place right after the battle and acted rashly out of guilt - going back in time with like an hour of planning. (2) Neville lands hard and is more hurt then he realizes - being confused, and forgetting that Hagrid wouldn't know him. (3) He was planning to go back to when He (and Harry) were just one-year-olds, and so when he learns he has gone back before he was even conceived, he worries about paradoxes and if he has to make sure that he's born in order for his actions to 'stick'.

Thanks to again to Elased whose comment made me realize that my writing wasn't clear the first time and that I needed to try to communicate my thoughts better.