Prologue:
Harry opened his eyes to bright sunshine and groaned, covering his face with his arm. He'd done it. He was alive again. If it worked like it was supposed to then he was back in time. Sometime around the summer before year four, which meant he was either thirteen or fourteen.
He tried recalling his adoptive father's face and came up with James' visage. That wasn't right. He remembered a girl telling him she loved him, but drew a blank when it came to her name or face. He remembered that he could use Parseltongue magic and defeated Voldemort with his animagus form's deadly gaze, but he couldn't recall how to incant in the snake language, transform or worse yet any of the locations for Voldemort's many Horcruxes, or how to defeat them.
Which meant Voldemort knew those things… but knowing the locations for the Horcruxes was something he should know already. Same with how to defeat them or at least Harry believed so. No harm there at least.
This was so bloody confusing. And if he thought it was confusing… Harry stifled a laugh, imagining Voldemort's face as the random knowledge from Harry's version of the future suddenly coming to him. Snake face's reaction would certainly have been hilarious to witness.
If only her advice came with instructions. If only he could remember who her was. Harry rubbed his temples and heaved a beleaguered sigh. Why did he always choose to be an idiot? He was a bloody Ravenclaw after all, he should be smarter than that-or at least learn from his mistakes.
§Flat face apes,§ hissed a disgruntled voice beside him, §always trampling on the little guys.§
Harry blinked and tilted his head. There half hidden in the grass was a tiny garden snake staring beadily at him.
§Serion?§ Harry breathed in disbelief.
The snake tipped its head, and said, §I do not recall meeting a speaker of the snake language before. How is it you know my name?§
Harry pushed up on his elbow and grinned at the sight of his suspicious familiar and long time friend. §That is because I am your King.§
Harry stood on the precipice of a great decision- a terrible but great decision. He was fourteen years old with partial memories a life he would live if he changed nothing. That life only extended to just before his eighteenth birthday when he was killed by his brother.
Daniel was his great decision.
He watched with hooded eyes a scene from his memory playing out live before him. This time he wasn't helpless. He knew the consequences of either choice. His first large change, he thought grimly, and it had to be this.
Below him in the graveyard, the shape in the cauldron became solid, the shadows of the night forming to wrap him in robes. Voldemort was strong once more. Harry observed dispassionately Voldemort's examination of his new body. He had seen this before.
Though the original experience felt like a fish bowl, things seemed distorted or out of focus. There was also a strong sense of déjà vu but that was to be expected. The only thing absent was his determination to see that Daniel live. It would be so much simpler if he died now.
§Sire,§ Serion hissed quietly, raising his head to watch in horrid fascination Voldemort's return.
In the quiet night Voldemort's voice drifted to them on the wind. "My wand, Wormtail."
§Yes, Serion?§ Harry asked quietly, gliding softly along the line of trees, staying in shadows.
§What do you plan to do?§
§I don't know,§ Harry murmured, his keen eyes watching, waiting.
Serion spoke forcefully, §If he lives…§
§If he dies Voldemort will think he's unstoppable. I would be put in the spotlight, because the curse being broken won't protect me from Dumbledore's schemes, and I won't figure out how he beat me when Voldemort could not.§
§But he won't have the chance to kill you either.§
Harry shrugged. §I have time,§ he answered, watching Voldemort torture Daniel under the Cruicatus Curse.
§You have about ten minutes to decide,§ Serion reminded. §Just think, if they found both his body and Cedric's. There's no way that Fudge could deny Voldemort's return when the Boy-Who-Lived is now the Boy-Who-Died.§
§Does inaction count as a murder, Serion?§ Harry asked his friend, slipping backward into the woods as the bright light from Daniel's prior incantori spell mingled with Voldemort's killing curse, mimicking a brother wand effect.
Serion bit back his automatic response and thought it through. Finally, slowly, he replied, §My liege, you could not be held accountable for your brother's death. If you could be, then so could Dumbledore. You already expect that he knows what is happening here in the graveyard.§
§We are both accountable for Cedric's murder then.§
§You did not remember that he would die.§
Harry grimaced angrily. §I should have when I first saw him land from the portkey.§
§But you did not orchestrate either the portkey or Cedric touching the cup and being transported here.§
§Does it matter what I did or did not do?§ Harry asked, shaking his head in frustration.
Serion snorted in disbelief. §Everything you do or do not do matters in this little game of fate versus free will.§
Harry grimaced again as the specters started pouring out of Voldemort's wand. First Cedric, then an old man, followed by a woman… Harry closed his eyes to them and turned to watch the Death Eaters prowl around the golden cage.
It really was a clever spell for his brother to use. For such an unimaginative dueler to have pulled that out of his cap was simply remarkable. The sudden intelligence under pressure of life and death situations indicated a more Slytherin side to his brother than Harry would have guessed.
The cage came down as Daniel dropped his end to the power holding the spell up and he ran. Death Eaters shouted and curses flew. Harry cast a shield as one spun wildly off course in his direction and trained his wand on the Triwizard Cup.
Who was Harry Potter? That question was going to be answered in a few moments… was he stalwart of character, saving even his own murderer from certain death? Or was he the King of Snakes, who weighed the death of one soul against the potential gain? Could he live with himself afterwards? Could he make the choice to kill his brother – to let him die?
Dozens of red and green Unforgivables splashed against the ground, spraying pockets of dirt in the air. Harry stood trembling in the shadows, parallel with his brother who finally reached his position. Serion hissed something unintelligible and Harry made his decision. He dropped his arm and waited with bated breath.
He would not save Daniel, who was feckless, cruel, and self-serving. Some people deserved to die. Daniel's guardian angel was putting up his halo. If by some miracle he survived…
Daniel tripped over a hole in the ground and fell forward in an ungraceful sprawl. The Death Eaters hurried to surround him, none so foolish as to be the one to do him in when their master was in their midst.
Harry forced himself to watch as Voldemort's lipless mouth peeled back into a sinister smile. Triumph glittered in his blood red eyes as he halted before Daniel's form. The scene grew suddenly still and silent. Harry held his breath and even Serion was poised, motionless on his arm.
"Please…" Daniel squeaked, scrambling backwards.
"Good-bye Daniel Potter," Voldemort murmured victoriously, raising his wand with little hesitation. "Avada Kedavra."
Green light flew from Voldemort wand striking Daniel square in the forehead. Fear gripped his features as he slumped backwards. Daniel was dead.
And Harry knew exactly who he was as Voldemort tipped his head back and crowed to the hunter's moon high overhead. Harry Potter was dangerous. Perhaps he was even more dangerous than any dark lord could hope to be, because Harry Potter was capable of making great decisions.
End Prologue.
AN: Credit for title of this sequel goes to CatWriter. Please expect infrequent updates. The story is not exactly a top priority for myself as of late. Thanks and enjoy!