Title: A Serpentine Choice
Pairing(s): Harry/Voldemort, Remus/Sirius, Remus/Harry/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 it's not just puberty. And wait. Snape is his father? Severitus. Dark!Harry. 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. The underlined portions were copied directly from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
Harry followed Mr. Weasley as he ran through the Ministry. As soon as they had arrived as the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, Perkins, who worked with Mr. Weasley, informed them that the time and place of his hearing had changed. Now, they would be lucky if they made it there on time. Apparently it was in the old courtrooms, whatever that meant. They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along yet another corridor, which bore a great resemblance to that which led to Snape's dungeon at Hogwarts, with rough stone walls and torches in brackets. The doors they passed here were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts and keyholes.
"Courtroom … ten … I think … we're nearly … yes."
Mr. Weasley stumbled to a halt outside a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock and slumped against the wall, clutching at a stitch in his chest.
"Go on," he panted, pointing his thumb at the door. "Get in there."
Aren't — aren't you coming with — ?"
"No, no, I'm not allowed. Good luck!"
Harry's heart was beating a violent tattoo against his Adam's apple. He swallowed hard, turned the heavy iron door handle, and stepped inside the courtroom.
As soon as he stepped inside, Harry knew he had been there before, in Dumbledore's penseive, during the memories of the conviction of Death Eaters. Did they really think him on that same level?
"You're late."
"Sorry," said Harry nervously. "I-I didn't know the time had changed."
"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," said the voice. "An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat."
Harry looked at the chair apprehensively, wishing that he wasn't alone. He had worn the locked, though, and the warmth and heaviness of it was reassuring. He walked to the chair, and tentatively sat down, grateful that the chains didn't come to life and wrap around him.
"Very well," said Fudge. "The accused being present — finally — let us begin. Are you ready?" he called down the row.
"Yes, sir," said an eager voice Harry knew. Ron's brother Percy was sitting at the very end of the front bench. Harry looked at Percy, expecting some sign of recognition from him, but none came. Percy's eyes, behind his horn-rimmed glasses, were fixed on his parchment, a quill poised in his hand.
"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, "into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy byHarry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley.
"The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offense under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy.
"You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment.
"Yes, Minister."
"You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?"
"The warning was incorrectly issued." Harry said, just as Remus had coached him to do.
Fudge looked as if a well rehearsed speed had been interrupted.
"Pardon me?"
"There was a house elf in my home, and he performed a hovering charm. I received a warning for underage magic. Dobby – that is, the house elf – is now employed at Hogwarts, if you'd like to question him as well."
The minister was looking well and truly flustered now. "We are not here regarding that incident!" he exclaimed. "You conjured a Patronus on the night of August 2nd?"
"I did." Harry answered simply.
"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"
"Unless it is in self defense, is my understanding."
Fudge sneered rather pathetically. "And what kind of danger could you have been in, Mr. Potter?"
"I was attacked by dementors."
"Dementors?" said a witch with the monocle on Fudge's left. "What do you mean, boy?"
"I mean there were two dementors down that alleyway and they went for me !"
"Ah," said Fudge again, smirking unpleasantly as he looked around at the Wizengamot, as though inviting them to share the joke. "Yes. Yes, I thought we'd be hearing something like this."
"Dementors in Little Whinging?" Madam Bones said in tones of great surprise. "I don't understand —"
"Don't you, Amelia?" said Fudge, still smirking. "Let me explain. He's been thinking it through and decided dementors would make a very nice little cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see dementors, can they, boy? Highly convenient, highly convenient … so it's just your word and no witnesses. …"
"That's correct, Minister. However, I am willing to take a vow to the point that I am telling the truth, or produce a memory, or even take veritiserum."
There was a loud muttering around the courtroom, and Fudge paled. For Harry to volunteer such things, he must be very confident in his story.
"I'm afraid that won't be necessary." a voice boomed out throughout the courtroom. "Albus Dumbledore, here for the defense.
Fudge paled even further.
"We do, in fact, have a witness to the presence of dementors in that alleyway," he said, "other than Dudley Dursley, I mean."
Fudge's plump face seemed to slacken, as though somebody had let air out of it. He stared down at Dumbledore for a moment or two, then, with the appearance of a man pulling himself back together, said, "We haven't got time to listen to more taradiddles, I'm afraid, Dumbledore. I want this dealt with quickly —"
"I may be wrong," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn't that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?" he continued, addressing the witch in the monocle.
"True," said Madam Bones. "Perfectly true."
"Oh, very well, very well," snapped Fudge. "Where is this person?"
"I brought her with me," said Dumbledore. "She's just outside the door. Should I — ?"
"No — Weasley, you go," Fudge barked at Percy, who got up at once, hurried down the stone steps from the judge's balcony, and hastened past Dumbledore and Harry without glancing at them.
A moment later, Percy returned, followed by Mrs. Figg. She looked scared and more batty than ever. Harry wished she had thought to change out of her carpet slippers.
"Full name?" said Fudge loudly, when Mrs. Figg had perched herself nervously on the very edge of her seat.
"Arabella Doreen Figg," said Mrs. Figg in her quavery voice.
"And who exactly are you?" said Fudge, in a bored and lofty voice.
"I'm a resident of Little Whinging, close to where Harry Potter lives," said Mrs. Figg.
"We have no record of any witch or wizard living in Little Whinging other than Harry Potter," said Madam Bones at once. "That situation has always been closely monitored, given … given past events."
"I'm a Squib," said Mrs. Figg. "So you wouldn't have me registered, would you?"
Harry had been cleared of all charges. He couldn't believe it. It must have been thanks to Dumbledore, bringing Mrs. Figg along and making a speech on his behalf. But then again, Harry highly doubted that he would be in this situation if Dumbledore hadn't assigned such an incompetent guard to him. So he didn't feel very guilty at all when Dumbledore left before he could thank him. Leaving the courtroom, he found Mr. Weasley waiting for him impatiently.
"Harry! How's it go? I saw Dumbledore, but he didn't say..."
"I got off." Harry said, smiling.
As they were walking back upstairs, so that Mr. Weasley could escort Harry back to Number Twelve, the happened to run into the Minister speaking to Lucius Malfoy.
"Well, well, well. Mr. Potter." Malfoy said, sneering and looking Harry up and down. He stopped suddenly, and his eyes widened, when he noticed the locked peaking out of Harry's shirt. Rather self conciously, Harry tucked it back in.
"The Minister was just telling me about your lucky escape, Potter," drawled Mr. Malfoy. "Quite astonishing, the way you continue to wriggle out of very tight holes. … Snakelike, in fact …"
Harry had no doubt in his mind that Malfoy had seen his locket, and knew exactly what it was. Wanting to get away from the man, he simply said, "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I've been extremely lucky. I'm sure you have important business with the Minister. If you'll excuse me."
And with that, he turned and walked away, Mr. Weasley following closely after him.
Later that evening, once everyone was in bed, and Harry had made his way into Sirius and Remus's room, he fended off their attempts to seduce him and told them he had something important to talk about.
"What is it, Harry?" Sirius asked, sitting cross legged on the bed with Remus's head in his lap.
"It has to do with Lucius Malfoy. Mr. Weasley told you we saw him at the Ministry after my hearing, right? Well, he saw something of mine, and I'm not sure what to do."
"What did he see, cub?" Remus asked, sitting up and giving Harry his full attention.
"Well..." Harry started uncomfortably. "It's this locket. The one we were supposed to throw away." And Harry pulled he locked off from around his neck, showing it too the two men.
"But why did you keep it, Harry? It could be Dark!" asked Sirius.
Harry shrugged.
"I couldn't have it thrown away. I feel... a connection to it. Like it's a part of me."
The two men exchanged glances. That certainly sounded Dark to them.
"Harry." Remus said slowly. "Maybe you should give us the locket."
"No!" Harry shouted, clutching the locket to his chest. He shook his head, as If he was clearing his mind. "I mean, no. I want to keep it. I should keep it. It's meant to be with me."
Sirius and Remus were both concerned, but they didn't know what to do. After all, Harry had come to them in confidence, and going to Dumbledore would be a massive violation of his trust, and could even be seen as a betrayal by the rather volatile young nd. On the other hand, the locket could be having a detrimental effect on Harry. They just weren't sure what to do, so they let things be for now, each promising to themselves to keep a close eye on him.
Far too soon for Harry's liking, it came time for them to go back to school. On the last of their break, he was rudely reminded that his summer paradise was to end when their booklists arrived. There was nothing unusual on it, just The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, by Miranda Goshawk, and Advanced Defensive Magic by Rowan Witherwood, which Remus had assigned, and Harry had already browsed. There was a great deal of surprise, however, when Ron was assigned Prefect. Not to be arrogant, but Harry really thought it was going to be him. Neville was too timid. Seamus and Dean goofed off all the time. And Ron... well, to be frank, Ron's grades weren't good enough for him to deserve the position, in Harry's opinion. So, naturally, it should have gone to him. But instead it went to Ron. Why? Dumbledore had been acting strangely towards him. Not talking to him, or even looking him in the eye. Harry would have assumed the man would have spoken to him about the events at the end of the previous school year, but there had been no communication since the Leaving Feast. Why was Dumbledore ignoring him? And why had he chosen the irresponsible Ron over him to be prefect? Something odd was going on, and Harry was not pleased about it.
That night, the last he would be able to spend with Sirius and Remus unless Moony let him join them in his quarters, he spoked to the two men about his worries. Tangled in a heap of sweaty flesh, each of them sated, Harry tentatively spoke.
"Moony, Padfoot? Do... do you know why Dumbledore isn't speaking to me?"
"Do you really think this is the best time to talk about Dumbledore, Harry?" Sirius said, chuckling.
Remus smacked him on the back of his head.
"Hush, Padfoot. What do you mean, Harry, that he isn't speaking to you?"
"He's avoiding me. He didn't talk to me about my trial, he just showed up and defended me. And he never looks me in the eye. He's making all of these decisions about me, and he's not even telling me about them. I mean, I know I'm only 15, but I think I have a right to at least know what is happening regarding me. I didn't even know there were people guarding me over the summer!"
Remus and Sirius were both staring at me, Sirius looking rather perplexed, Remus frowning.
"You didn't know that you were being guarded by the Order?" Sirius asked.
Harry shook his head.
"You're right about at least one thing Harry. From what I saw in your third year, you are definitely more qualified than Ronald Weasley, at least when it comes to being something like a Prefect." Remus said.
"It does sound odd that he isn't speaking to you. I'd noticed that you two hadn't been together, but it hadn't occurred to me that he might be avoiding you." Remus sat up, leaning against the headboard and pulling Harry close to him. Sirius crawled up towards the two men and rested his head on Harry's thigh. Harry basked in the company of the older men, appreciating the fact that they seemed to see his side of his problem.
"If Dumbledore really is avoiding you, what would be the reason?" Remus asked.
Harry shrugged.
"I don't know. Maybe he doesn't trust me anymore after I met Voldemort in person. I spoke to him and escaped, and maybe he thinks there's something suspicious about that. Maybe he thinks I lied about what happened. I have no idea." he said, frustrated.
Remus and Sirius glanced at each other, obviously aware of something that Harry wasn't.
"Remus, I think we should tell him."
"Dumbledore said not too, Sirius."
"Remus, Harry's more important than Dumbledore's orders."
Remus nodded solemnly. "Harry, have you ever heard of something called Legilimency, or Occlumency?"
Harry shook his head.
"I'm not surprised. They're very rare arts, borderline Dark. They involve either defending or invading the mind." Remus said.
"You mean it's possible for someone to learn to read minds?" Harry asked, horrified.
"It's not that simple. It's more like... viewing memories based on the emotions associated with them. At least, that's how I understand it. I don't actually practice either art." Remus explained.
"But what does this have to do Dumbledore?"
"He thinks that Voldemort can use Legilimency on you from a distance." Sirius said angrily. "But that's impossible! Even the most skilled of Legilimancers need to be able to see their subjects to cast the spell. Most need to make eye contact first. Even a wizard as powerful as the Dark Lord couldn't break the basic laws of a spell."
Harry frowned. "I don't like that. At all. Dumbledore is obviously lying to us."
Sirius nodded.
Remus seemed hesitant. "But Dumbledore's always had our best interests at heart..."
"Your best interests, maybe, Remus. You still feel like you're in his debt because he let you go to Hogwarts in your... condition. But Dumbledore let me rot in Azkaban for 12 years, without bothering to even visit. He had the power to ensure that I got a trial, but he never used it. You should remember that." Sirius said, somewhat angrily.
"But, Sirius, if you're so upset with Dumbledore, why are you letting him use your house?" Harry asked curiously, momentarily distracted from the subject at hand.
"Because the Order needed it, not Dumbledore. Voldemort is the enemy, ultimately, and I'll to anything to help defeat him." But he didn't seem that convinced of his own words.
Remus was angry for a moment, but calmed. "You're right. I need to stop living in the past. Besides, I've repaid that debt many times over. Harry, Sirius is right. Dumbledore is keeping something from us. From you. And it may be a matter of life and death. I... we don't think it's right. You're old enough, and you've been through enough, to know what you are in danger of."
Harry was in shock. He couldn't believe what they were saying. "Thank you. Thank you both so much." he said, kissing both of them soundly. They grinned at him, before returning to the subject at hand.
Remus continued. "There's... a Prophecy. About you and Voldemort, in the Department of Mysteries. That's what the Order has been guarding."
"But.. aren't prophecies just a load of bull? Like what Trelawney spouts off."
Sirius shook his head. "No. Not real Prophecies. They always tell the future accurately. Only usually, they're a bit... muddled."
"What Sirius means is that you don't normally know exactly what a Prophecy means until after it's been fulfilled."
"That sounds a bit useless."
Sirius laughed. "You know it. Prophecies cause more trouble than they solve. If they don't cause what they predict in the first place."
"So what's the prophecy about?"
Remus shook his head. "We don't know. Dumbledore hasn't told us. But we do know that the prophecy is the reason that Voldemort killed your mother, and tried to kill you."
Thank you for reading!
http:/ hpfandom. net/ eff/ ? uid=11870 is the link to my account on HPFandom, where this fic may be found unedited, and where I may post some one-shots related to this story, if there is any interest.