Title: A Serpentine Choice
Pairing(s): Harry/Voldemort, Remus/Sirius
Rating: M
Summary: After the events at the graveyard at the end of his fourth year, Harry's perspective on magic is turned upside down. On top of that, he begins to find that his body is changing. And wait. Snape is his father? Severitus. HP/LV
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. I make absolutely no money from writing or posting this. The characters, the universe, the inspiration for everything I write, all belong to the amazingly talented J. K. Rowling, et al. A couple of Mrs. Figg's lines and the letter's that Harry receives are copied directly from the Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
Harry awoke suddenly, moaning in pain. He had fallen out of bed. Again. And on his birthday, too. He seemed to be doing that an awful lot lately. He could only hope his tailbone wasn't bruised. Without the tender care of Madame Pomphrey for the three months of summer break, he would have to let it heal the muggle way, and he was loathe to do so. He loved magic, and hated these few months that he had to live with muggles. Harry didn't know how he had lived 10 years of his life thinking he was nonmagical.
Of course, he knew, now more so than ever, that not all things in the magical world were good. His parents had been murdered by Lord Voldemort. He had been attack by Voldemort himself, and barely survived, four times. Not to mention all of the other things that he had encountered. Poltergeists, trolls, three-headed dogs, basilisks, dementors. Tournaments.
It may sound odd to one who wasn't very familiar with Harry Potter's life, but it was the Tournament that held the most bad memories for him. His name had been chosen as an unexpected fourth contestant in the Triwizard Tournament, and he had to face the distrust and even hatred of his peers, who believed he had cheated his way into the tournament for glory, when in fact his name he been entered against his will.
It had all been part of a plot to get Harry in a vulnerable position, so that the Dark Lord could use Harry's blood to create a new body for himself and truly return. It had been the most terrifying and the most... amazing experience of Harry's life. Not that he would admit that to anyone, ever. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, nothing positive came of his experience in the graveyard. But the truth was, being in the presence of Lord Voldemort during his resurrection had exposed Harry to such a rush of Dark Magic that all he could think of now was finding a way to experience that feeling again. It was so much more powerful than anything he had ever felt.
But Harry felt terribly guilty about it. After all, Voldemort was his enemy. He had killed his parents, and ordered the death of Cedric Diggory. He had nearly killed Ginny Weasley. Not to mention the attempts on his own life. But now Harry couldn't stop remembering that offer in his first year, the first time he faced Voldemort that he could remember, and the man offered to bring Harry's parents back to life, in exchange for joining him. And he couldn't help but wonder if the opportunity was still available.
"No, Harry, shut up! You can't be thinking things like that!" he said quietly to himself, gripping his hair. Was he going mad? To even consider thinking about joining the Dark Lord was... well... out of the question. He was a light wizard. He was Dumbledore's man. And there was no way he was going to let his preoccupation with what had happened to him change that. Oh, but it had been amazing...
Wait. Wait one moment. His hair... it felt longer. Harry scrambled up from the floor, careful to be quiet so as not to wake his relatives. He turned on the lights, and went to the cracked mirror that was his. A bit nervous, he looked at his reflection. Yes, for the first time that he could remember, his hair had grown. It was almost down to his shoulders, in fact. Harry's hair had always been the same length. When his Aunt Petunia had tried to cut it, it grew back, and he had never really needed hair cuts. This was definitely odd. Not to mention the fact that the texture seemed to have changed. Harry had never really paid attention to the texture of his hair before, but when something like that changed about your body, you noticed. His hair was no longer the wild, untamable mass it used to be. It now laid almost straight, with a bit of a soft curl. Harry found that he rather liked it, despite being used hair that was short and stuck up all over the place. It felt right, somehow, just like the magic in the graveyard had felt right.
Harry sighed, and sat on his bed, looking at the various letters that had come at midnight. It was nice to see that his friends remembered his birthday, even if they were unwilling to depart with any real information. All of the letters he had received so far this summer had been full of condolences and apologies that they couldn't tell them more. Like that was any help. Even Sirius, the one person Harry thought would be on his side, was telling him only to keep out of trouble.
He had faced the Dark Lord. Sacrificed his blood. Watched his resurrection. Dueled him, and escaped with his life. And all they could tell him was that it was too dangerous to tell him anything through the mail? He read the Daily Prophet, and even watched the muggle news, but as far as he could tell, Voldemort had made no moves towards gaining power. Harry guessed that he was biding his time and gathering followers, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. He had almost cancelled his subscription to the Daily Prophet, in truth, because of all the digs they kept taking at him. He seemed to have gone from being their hero being an insane liar within a remarkably short amount of time. Harry wondered if the minister had anything to do with that.
Harry's birthday was spent like any other day. He felt no different, being fifteen. Nothing had changed. He had nearly thrown out the Honeyduke's Chocolate that Ron and Hermione had sent him, angry with their non-letters, but decided that with the diet he was on, he needed the calories. The days of summer dragged on, and more and more Harry missed the magical world. He remembered his second year, and the diary, and Tom Riddle's reluctance to go home during the summers. The budding Dark Lord even stopped his plot in desperation to keep Hogwarts open. Harry could understand his desperation. Living the muggle way after having just a taste of magic was almost unbearable. There was almost a physical ache when he thought about using his wand, and sometimes he would read his schoolbooks, just remembering the thrill he felt through him every time he cast a spell.
He spent most of his days out of the house, wandering the neighborhood, appreciating the fresh air, and avoiding Dudley's gang. But lately he had been growing restless. Aching for something more exciting to happen. He couldn't get any proper news about the wizarding world, and it was driving him mad.
So perhaps it wasn't too surprising that he began staying out later and later, and began to almost wish his cousin's gang would notice him. It would at least give him a chance to threaten someone, even if it might lead to him being chased through the street of Little Whinging. The perfect opportunity came one day as he was sitting on a swing in the park, and the pathetic gang came walking by. He wished that they would notice him, but they didn't even look his way. Pity. He rose after they were gone, and began meandering his way home. If he was too much later than Dudley, his uncle was likely to lock him out of the house for the night.
He was making his way along Magnolia Crescent, when Harry felt a familiar cold dread throughout his body.
"No. No, they can't be here." he muttered to himself, pulling out his wand and whipping around. Icy cold wind blew around him, and Harry knew. Dementors were here. His eyes darted about, trying to see one in the dark as he began to feel like he would never be happy again. There. He pointed his wand towards the creature. "Expecto Patronum," he said, not as loudly as he had intended. He began to hear a faint screaming in his head. "Expecto Patronum!" he said louder, and a wisp of white smoke emerged from his wand. No, no, no! Harry couldn't go out like this. He would never feel that rush of magic that he felt at the graveyard, never avenge his parents, never free Sirius... Sirius's face appeared in his mind, giving him strength.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
A beautiful white stag emerged from his wand chasing the dementor away. Oddly, the feeling didn't disappear, and Harry realized there was a second dementor.
"This way!" he shouted, encouraging his patronus to take care of the other dementor. The stag turned around, and ran down the pavement, chasing off the final creature.
Harry felt immediate relief as the awful feeling went away, and he fondly patted the patronus on the nose before it disappeared. That was ridiculously close. And rather suspicious. What were dementors doing in a muggle neighborhood? Exhausted, he collapsed to his knees, wondering what had just happened to him. He had just cast magic in a muggle neighborhood, which was against the law. But surely, they couldn't prosecute him. It was in self-defense. Before he could think on it any more, Mrs. Figg, his old babysitter, came running towards him. He hurriedly went to hide his want in his pocket, but before he could manage it, she spoke.
"Don't put it away, Harry! What if there are more of them? Oh, I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"
"M-mrs. Figg? You're a witch?" Harry asked, rising to his feet, possibly going through the greatest shock of his life.
"Oh, no dear. I'm a squib. Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye on you."
"Oh."
Mrs. Figg was a squib. Dumbledore's agent. He felt that it should surprise him more, but somehow, nothing that Dumbledore did was too shocking. Still, knowing that he had been monitored his entire life was... rather intrusive. Not to mention the fact that Dumbledore must have known how the Dursley's had treated him, and done nothing. But Harry had no time to ponder that now.
"Wait. Who's Mundungus Fletcher?"
"He's supposed to be following you tonight, making sure you don't get into any trouble." she said distractedly, taking him by the arm and beginning to lead him towards Privet Drive. "Keep your wand out, we don't know what else we might face, if there are such things as dementors about."
The two of them made their way in silence to Number Four.
"Now, get inside and stay there," she said as they reached the door.. "I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough."
Harry entered the house, stowing his wand just in time, feeling rather perplexed. His aunt and uncle would have no idea what had just happened to him. The Dursley's ignored him as he entered the house, and just as he was about to go upstairs,
Dear Mr. Potter,
We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-hree minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle.
The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand.
As you have already received an official warning for a previous offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on August 12th.
Hoping you are well,
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use Of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
His aunt and uncle ignored the owl, as was their habit, though Dudley looked rather curious. Harry ran up to his bedroom. Minsityr officials would be their shortly to destroy his want? Harry couldn't let that happen. Not only was it his wand, it was the brother wand of Lord Voldemort's, and who knew what kind of advantage that could give him. He began to pack, quickly, ready to run, when another letter arrived.
Harry -
Dumbledore's just arrived at the Ministry, and he's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND.
Arthur Weasley
Well, what did that mean? How was he supposed to stay in his house and not surrender his wand? Fight the aurors off and get into even more trouble? Well, it appeared that he would be staying. Once again, he would put his trust in Professor Dumbledore. Harry sat down on his bed, his head in his hands. What was he to do now? And yet another owl appeared in his room.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Further to our letter of approximately twenty-two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on 12th August, at which time an official decision will be taken.
Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from school pending further inquiries.
With best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE
Ministry of Magic
Well, Dumbledore certainly worked quickly, didn't he? At least Harry got to keep his wand. For now.
The next three days continued as usual. Harry still got no news, despite what had happened to him, and he truly thought he deserved some this time. Wouldn't anyone tell him what dementors were doing in Little Whinging? He was dreading his hearing at the Ministry, and no one told him anything about that either. What were wizarding hearings even like? Harry had no idea. Not for the first time, it hit him how little he knew of the wizarding world. Only what he had to know to get by, was the truth. Harry wondered what he could do to rectify the situation.
That night, his relatives informed him that they were going out for the night. Not only that, they would be locking him in his room, to insure that he didn't leave it and wreck their house while they were gone. He didn't know where they were going, and he didn't care. What he did care about, however, were the suspicious noises that he started hearing about an hour after they left.
Harry's first thought was that Death Eaters had found his relative's house. Nearly panicking, he grabbed his wand and went to the door, pressing his ear to the wood. He could hear clear voices talking. Obviously, they weren't trying to conceal their presence. He hurriedly fetched the invisibility cloak from his trunk, covering himself in it and making sure he would not be seen. Approaching the door, he wished that it would open so that he could have a look to see who was in the house. To his great surprise, the door clicked open. As quietly as he could, he stepped out of his room, peering down the stairs in the dark. He could make out shadowy figures, but nothing clearer. Ever so slowly, he made his way down the stairs, ready to fight off the possible attackers.
"Ah, there he is. Take off that cloak, boy, and come down here." said a gruff, familiar voice.
"Professor Moody?" Harry asked, bewildered, as he pulled the cloak off and cautiously walked down the stairs. "Is that you?"
"Not much of a professor. Never did get around to much teaching, did I, Potter?"
Wand out, Harry surveyed the group of people in the living room.
"Professor Lupin!" Harry exclaimed, rushing forward to give the man a hug. The man often added a note to Sirius's letters, and Harry felt as if he knew him much better. Once the two had embraced, it occurred to Harry that they could be Death Eaters in disguise. Suspicion in his voice, he said,
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."
"Mischief Managed." Professor Lupin replied. "And how many times to I have to tell you, Harry, it's Remus."
"Remus, then. What are you all doing here?"
"We've come to bring you back with us. To a safer place. Apparently Little Whinging is now vulnerable."
Harry stifled a laugh. In his opinion, he had never been safe at Number Four.
"Alright, I'll go pack."
"I'll help you, Harry."
While the rest of the escort party waiting, examining the muggle house curiously, Remus and Harry made their way up to Harry's room. Remus surveyed the space with a smile on his face.
"Well, Harry, keep your broom out, because that's how we're gettig there. And you're cloak as well. Hedwig will find you wherever we go, I expect."
Harry nodded.
"But, Remus, where are we going."
Remus smiled.
"I can't tell you yet, Harry. You'll find out when we get there."
Waving his want and enunciating clearly, Remus said, "Pack," and all of Harry's belongings folded themselves neatly into his trunk.
"Wow. Can you teach me that spell? I would save me loads of time at school."
"Of course, Harry." Remus said, a smile on his face. Levitating the trunk, Remus lead the way downstairs and into the backyard, where the rest of the group was waiting with brooms.
"Ah, I see you're all ready, Potter. Tonks there will take your trunk." Moody said, gesturing to a cheerful looking witch with bright pink hair. Mad-Eye drew his wand, pointing it at Harry. "Now, just have to cast the disillisionment charm on you, boy."
Seeing Harry's apprehension at the mention of the spell, Remus intervened. "Moody, I think Harry's invisibility cloak should suffice, don't you?"
Moody's eyes narrowed. "Can you fly wearing that thing, Potter?"
"Yeah, I've had loads of practice. It's how I get extra practice in for Quidditch."
Several of the members of his escort laughed, and they all mounted their brooms, taking formation. At the signal, sparks in the air, they took off for an unknown destination.