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Serpent Hidden in Plain Sight

Summary:

Oops... did Dumbledore really expect Harry to just happily wander off to his death? Yeah... nah.

Work Text:

Silence swept the Castle as the Dark Lord’s words sunk in. Hermione staggered, leaning against the wall as she turned to stare in horror at her oldest friend. She paled at the sight of his decision written plain on his face, “Harry, no.”

Harry smiled at her weakly, handing her Gryffindor’s sword, “Get this to Neville, will you? You know what he has to do.”

Ron stared in horror, “B-but.”

“It was always going to go this way Ron.” Harry shrugged, soot painting his pale face, “I figured out after Quirrell that the only way Riddle and I were going to end this thing was with one of our deaths. I’m just surprised I got this long.”

 


 

Harry stood before the forest, his father’s cloak wrapped around his shoulders, Dumbledore’s snitch in his hands. ‘Flesh memory? Well, then.’ He pressed his lips to the cold metal, a single thought echoing through his mind, ‘I am going to die.’ A soft snick echoed through the woods, as he opened the casing to stare in bemusement at the sight of a plain black stone, undistinguishable from any of those found around the shores of the Black Lake, if not for the faint miasma of Darkness emanating from it. A small smile spread across his lips as he turned it gently over in his hands, “Sirius? Mum? Dad?” Slipped from his lips as three wraiths emerged from the mist released by the stone.

“Harry.” His mother smiled gently as she stared at him in awe, “We love you.”

“Even though…?”

James smiled at his son, filled with pride at the sight of him full-grown before his eyes, “No matter what. Your life, your choice.”

Sirius beamed at him, “What a prank though Prongslet. Your even more of a Marauder than we were!”

Harry smiled faintly, and let the stone fall from his grasp, back into the snitch where Dumbledore had entrusted it all those months before. The spirits haunting him faded back into smoke, which quickly dissipated once more. ‘Time to let the truth play out.’ He took a deep breath and slipped into the trees, following the distant sound of Bellatrix’s insane laughter, ‘So much for stealth Tom.’

 


 

Narcissa stood beside her husband, fear filling her mind, ‘Will he come?’

The Dark Lord let out a disgruntled sound, casting a silent sonorous, “I confess myself disappointed Harry!”

A low chuckle echoed from nowhere, and an invisibility cloak was whisked off by it’s wearer as Harry Potter sauntered, utterly carefree, into the clearing, “Why is that Voldemort?”

Bellatrix snarled, “Let me curse him My Lord! I’ll teach the brat respect.”

The Dark Lord snorted, “Impudent brat.” He turned to Bellatrix, “Peace Bella. Harry’s here as a friend.”

Narcissa gaped, ‘What?’

Hagrid let out a bellow at that, “No. Not Harry!”

Potter shrugged, “Yeah, well when you find out that the man who placed you with abusive Muggles as an infant and sent your legal guardian to Azkaban is planning to have you killed…” A cruel smirk spread across his lips, “It tends to cause you to reassess your priorities. Don’t you agree Tom?”

The Dark Lord flicked his wand, causing Potter to flinch and glare at him, ‘Stinging hex? Surely not.’

“Impudent brat.”

Potter snorted, flicking his hand carelessly, “Yeah, whatever.” His posture abruptly straightened, “Did the plan work?”

The Dark Lord smirked, letting the glamour fall, revealing an attractive man in his early thirties, “What do you think?”

Potter grinned, “I think the plan is going exactly as we hoped.” His gaze flickered to Narcissa, “Draco sends his regards by the way.” His attention returned to the Dark Lord, “He has everything prepared and ready to go.”

“Good.” The Dark Lord grimaced suddenly, “Get changed. You look ridiculous.”

Potter snorted, “What? You don’t like Muggle Camper Chic?” At the unimpressed look his comment engendered, he shrugged, and flicked his wand, casting a wordless transfiguration which left him clad in black robes similar to those worn by the flabbergasted Death Eaters around him, but with a subtle scale pattern to them.

Voldemort started, “Basiliskskin duelling robes?”

“Well I couldn’t let her go to waste, could I?” He beamed at the taller male as his skin started to move fluidly before their eyes, paling slightly as his features shifted minutely to more resemble the man standing in place of the Serpentine Horror the Dark Sect had so recently been serving. Black hair settled into soft waves, which he bound back with a Muggle hairtie. “Now… shall we go reveal just how utterly hopeless their defence is?” He paused, “Father?”

 


 

Draco stood, bruised and bloody, on the steps outside the Entrance Hall, staring across the silent battlefield, ‘It’s really over.’

A warmth at his back caused him to turn, letting the smaller male smile up at him, green eyes glowing with warmth from within a bloodspattered face, “Sickle for your thoughts, Love.”

Draco chuckled, “Just can’t believe it’s really over is all.”

Harry laughed softly, wrapping his arms around the slender blonde, “Hmm… their faces though. I can’t believe they fell for Dumbledore’s bullshit.”

Draco smiled at his lover, as he pressed a warm kiss to the dark-haired male’s forehead, “True enough. Though I think Father’s face was the best.”

A snort was his response, “True. I thought he was going to choke when I kissed you.”
“To be fair, you were the perfect little Light Idol until a few minutes beforehand… it’s understandable that he didn’t think I knew about your little act.”

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