Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR.

Rating: T, maybe later M

Pairing: Lord Voldemort/Harry Potter

Summary: It takes only a hurt snake for Harry to realize something is very wrong. Uncovering the truth in the lies, he realizes what exactly Dumbledore had done, and concludes to do something about it. Time travel, Dark!Creature!Harry, Dumbledore/ Wealsey bashing, eventual HP/LVTR Slash

AN: Allusion to Fate is still going to be primarily what I'll be writing first, but I wanted to get this fic started. It'll probably be updated more iregularily, but with longer chapters. :P

I hope you like it!


It was times like these, Harry thought, that he should get a bonus just by waking up in the morning. It was as if his whole life could be reduced to one big, ugly joke.

It was things starting out like blocking a killing curse when he was only a year old, being a living horcrux, a punchbag, murdering a professor with his 'mother's love'. He had gotten his blood used in a ritual to make a homunculus for his enemy. He rode a dragon out of Gringotts.

He killed said enemy by not doing anything. "Expelliarmus", he wanted to hit his younger self. He had been such a pure little twit.

That's when everything went to hell for him, after the war. When he broke the Elder Wand and threw the rock away, he thought it had been over. He had finished school, become an auror, just like everyone thought he would. He was one of the best too, but it had only taken a hurt snake to have him realize something was wrong.

He could still speak parseltongue.

With the horcrux gone, with Voldemort dead, he shouldn't have heard more than a few hisses. But he hadn't. Something was wrong and like always, he just had to figure it out.

He really should have stayed away.

But he went to Gringotts, and had his bloodline tested.

His mother was supposed to be human. Everyone had thought so, it was a fact. She had been muggleborn.

But when he had looked upon that fresh, crisp parchment covered in blood, he had denied it. No, he had said. He would put it out of his mind.

All that did was make him remember. The snake in the zoo wasn't the first he had encountered. The inability to know whether he was speaking parseltongue or not was suddenly understood. It had always been his first language. He had always been talking to snakes, and they had always spoke back, reverently. He remembered what they would call him, little lamia hatchling. They had known even then. So where did that leave him, as he had forgotten all about it, but how?

And so he went to mind healers, and he found what exactly had been missing from his mind.

There were so many things that were just wrong.

The least destructive was a love potion that had been slowly wearing off. Ginny. His girlfriend, his almost fiance. It was fake. He had laughed then, taken the antidote, and then sent an owl with a pleasant note to tell her to stay the fuck away.

He had a falling out with the Weasleys soon afterwards, but he had been expecting it. They had always been Dumbledore's perfect little light family. All except for George. He was just fine with Harry wanting not wanting Ginny anywhere near him or his food. He wouldn't have wanted a love potion fed to him either.

It wasn't just the love potion he had to contend with though, it was the many memory charms, all with the late headmaster's magical signature all over them. With him dead, he could break through them. And Harry really didn't like what he saw.

It turned out he hadn't been such a nice, little abused child, after all. He had grown up talking to snakes, and serpents were predators that swallowed their prey whole.

That had ended when he was nine years old, when Dumbledore had come and took away his memories of the snakes, of his control over the terrified Dursleys. A couple of personality potions for a few weeks, and then he was into the cupboard, thinking he had lived there all along.

Back to Gringotts, and he learned of Dumbledore's greedy fingers that had been in his vault. If he had still lived, Dumbledore wouldn't have made it more than the night. Harry had lost it. Everything he had thought to be true, it was forgotten. He had the goblins set up the ritual. His binds on his creature blood were coming off. He was a lamia, and even with his blood suppressed, it slipped through the cracks. No wonder he was hotheaded, why he had that odd fascination with blood he told no one about.

He changed in ways he hadn't thought. Lamia were usually female, but like veela, males sometimes inherited the blood. His face had turned more feminine, his lips fuller, his eyelashes lengthening and darkening. His ears pointed like an elf's. Then the feeling of his legs turning to jelly, melding together, changing form. A snake's body took over, golds and dark greens that were almost black. Twenty feet long, he had rose over the goblins, whose faces were all alit with glee. When he spoke, his long-forgotten lisp could be heard clearly.

His ancestor was a demi-god. No wonder he had the power to stop the killing curse with his mother's sacrifice. Blood was very important to the lamia after all.

As soon as he turned back, regaining his legs, he quit his job, as he had enough gallons in the bank from the Potter, Black and his various other vaults he had been gifted to as the Boy-Who-Lived. He was richer than the Malfoys. Harry had gone home, only to find his just-healed snake jumping at him, hissing all about lamia.

He searched for more information, finding more and more of Dumbledore's faults in the Ministry and in certain laws that had been created.

He didn't tell anyone, not even Hermione, who had stuck by him after the Ginny incident, even when her husband didn't.

He caused quite a stir by quitting the aurors, but at that point, he no longer cared what the general public thought of him. They were all just a bunch of spineless sheep.

Then he got hit with a killing curse.

He didn't tell anyone it had got him. He had survived it, all it was to him had been a bright, green light, the color of his eyes, and he knew it wasn't from his lamia blood. Something else was stopping death for him. It was stopping him from ageing. He was twenty-three, and he still looked seventeen. He started thinking about the Deathly Hallows again.

The next morning, they lay on his bedside table.

The Master of Death, it wasn't just a cute title. He couldn't die. He wouldn't age. So he started thinking about what he could do. He had all of eternity for all he knew, and the magical world was growing stagnant. There was already another Dark lord rising. Harry had heard whispers of him whenever he had slipped into Knockturn to buy a few 'darker' books. He wasn't nearly as powerful as Voldemort, but the normal wizard couldn't bring him down.

He knew soon people would be again chanting his name, ordering him to save them. Harry knew he wouldn't be there. He was going to change everything. All he had to do was die again.

He didn't say anything, not even to Hermione, but Luna sent him a goodbye letter. She always knew.

His snake friend, he left in the Forbidden Forest. It was late at night, in early January, when he sat down on the steps up to the attic in Grimmauld Place. It had been two years since he had found the truth, and the new Dark Lord was looming ever closer. He had started to receive letters to kill him for them. Kreacher threw them into the fire after Harry had a good laugh. He rarely went outside without a glamour on anymore, as he was supposed to be twenty-five. He didn't even meet Hermione without it.

The Elder wand in his hand, the stone in his pocket, the invisibility cloak laying over him. He raised the wand to his head, and whispered, "Avada Kedavra".

Everything went black.


"I was wondering when I would see you."

Harry's eyes snapped open. It was the white place, the fake Kings Cross. Leaning forward, he rolled up onto his feet, and met the dark eyes of a man shrouded in black. Or at least, he thought he was male, but he couldn't truly be sure.

"Are you death?" Harry said, his voice slightly unsteady. He had just killed himself after all. The other person shrugged. "If that's what you want to call me."

His eyebrows rose, but he said nothing else.

"I've never had a master before, as there had never been truly, a 'master of death'. But here we are. Fate really must have liked you," the other continued. "She must have seen something in you that made her sure you wouldn't abuse it. But look!" He said, almost mockingly. "It's being abused right now. I know all your plans, what you are. What you've become. Let me tell you, time travel is very dangerous."

"I know the risks-"

The other raised their hand, "I know you do. But there is something else you should know. It's constantly being rewritten. Time is not a one way street, you can go both ways. Many people do. In death, in life. I give some people choices, just like I'm going to do today."

During his speech, Harry's eyes widened marginally. He hadn't known that, and no book had it written down. It seemed it was just death's secret to keep.

"You have three choices for the time you wish to return; one is when you were born."

Harry stared at the man, "Absolutely not."

The man waved him away, "Again when you are hit with the killing curse and become a horcrux-"

"No." He wasn't going to waste his time redoing childhood. He knew he wouldn't be able to get through it without killing the Dursleys.

"The last is the moment you were chosen as the fourth champion in the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry smiled, this was what he had been waiting for. Fourth year, he wasn't a child but not quite a teenager yet. He had no desire to act as if he were a child. Dumbledore would probably catch on fast.

"That one. I'll go with the third."

"As I knew you would," The man smiled, and Harry flinched. It was not a kind smile.

"By going back, I'm not going to be the Master of Death, right?"

The other froze, "Why do you ask?"

Harry rolled his shoulders, moving closer. "I don't want to live forever."

The man seemed stunned for a moment, before laughing outright, "Oh, I can see why Fate give you my gifts. You really aren't like most humans, are you? Most would absolutely jump at the prospect."

Harry sneered. "Why would someone wish to live for all of eternity, when his friends and lovers and family would all die long before? It's a curse."

"I'm glad you realize that. As for the title, if Fate wills it again, you might turn out just as before. So be careful, and don't pick up all three, if you don't wish for the Hollows to return to you."

The man suddenly was right in front of Harry, and he jumped back, startled. "Goodbye, little lamia," His lips curved, "I hope not to see you again soon, but do remember you still have that horcrux in that scar of yours."

The man's hand dove into his heart, and Harry screamed, eyes rolling into the back of his head, as he heard the other's whispered words, "Compensation, Master."

The world spinned, the train station twisting away as his eyes took in the image of hundreds of students, watching in silence at a familiar cup.

"Harry Potter! Harry-"

At the sound of the headmaster's voice, Harry's mouth turned upwards into a smirk. He was back. It had worked. He turned to Hermione, completely ignoring Ron, and similarly as it had been the first time, she looked completely stunned. He rose slowly, taking time to stretch, and allowing for the whispers to start up, but he was about to put a stop to them.

"Yes, coming," He drawled. He sauntered lazily to the front, where Dumbledore was watching him with an unreadable expression. When he got to the front, instead of taking the slip of paper, he turned back to the front. He took out his wand from his pocket, momentarily grimacing at his younger self's stupidity, and raised it to his mouth.

"I swear on my magic that I neither put my name in the cup nor asked another to put it in for me, so mote it be."

Dumbfounded silence, then the whispers returned, even louder than before. Harry ignored them and said loudly, "Honestly, whoever did do this, probably wants me to die. After all, accidents can happen in this sort of thing."

Then he turned, snatching the slip from his stilled betrayer, and left to meet with the other champions.

They were in front of the fire, silent and seemingly uncomfortable. When his eyes found Cedric, they hardened. He wouldn't be dying this year. Seemingly feeling his eyes on his back, the older boy turned, and his expression turned to one of surprise.

"Do they need us back up there?" He asked, jerking a thumb back at the door.

Harry shook his head, allowing his face to turn almost solemn, and said, "No, unfortunately someone has taken up the position to have me killed yet again this year. They don't know who did it yet, but someone made the cup think I was it's own school and made me a 'fourth champion'. Sorry about this, Cedric."

The three champions stared back in shock and Harry shrugged. "If it's any consolation, I won't be participating to win or anything. The cup is yours to whoever of the three of you win. It's only fair."

"Well, alright," The older boy managed.

"Do you often almost get killed at zis school?"

At the trilling sound of the quarter veela's voice, Harry turned his attention to Fleur. It was hard to see the Fleur of the present and the battle-worn one of the future.

He laughed, "Every year. First year was our possessed Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Second year was a basilisk, third was Sirius Black. I can hardly wait to see what this year has me against." The last few words were delivered with such heavy sarcasm that Fleur blinked in surprise.

"A Basilisk? Zen why do you stay here?"

"I really have no idea," Harry said dryly. And he didn't. Why it never occurred to him the first time around made him suspicious of Dumbledore all over again.

"Harry Potter, fourth Tri-"

Harry spun around to meet Ludo Bagman's excited eyes. He cut him off with a quick, "I don't wish to have another introduction, Mr. Bagman. They already know."

The man stopped in the door, slightly disheartened, before he was pushed through by Dumbledore, and the rest of the crew from the first time.

"...Horrible business," Mr. Crouch was saying, and Harry inwardly grinned. Everything was changing so quickly, but he had no interest in being hated for entire other year again.

"Is there any way for me to not participate in this?" Harry said, speaking up once they were all inside.

"No, you must compete, Harry," Dumbledore said, his voice tinged with just the right amount of worry. Lies. All he was to the headmaster was a horcrux and a weapon for the man who created it.

"Then we should also have two competitors as well, Dumbledore. It is only fair," Karkaroff said.

"That is impossible, the Goblet cannot be lit again until the three trials are over," Crouch said.

Moody stared in his direction and Harry was reminded that he was watching his own father. It must have been strange, playing the part of someone else.

"Well, then, we should start with directions for our four champions, with the first task. Barty?" Bagman said, his eyes lit enew with refreshed excitement.

"Of course, the first task is to test your daring. You will not know before the date what you will face, for courage for the unknown is a hard fate indeed. It will take place on the twenty-fourth of November, you are not have help from any teacher, and you will only be allowed your wand during the tournament. What you will receive will help you in the second task. As for your end of year testing, because of the short time you will all have, the four of you are exempted from them. Is that all?"

"You covered everything, I think," Bagman said.

Harry balanced on one foot, only half-listening to them drone on about having a drink later. He had things to do, and all the talking wasn't helping it go any faster. He was already uncomfortable from having his lamia blood locked away from him for so long.

"I think it's time for you two to go back to your dorms. I sure they want to celebrate this unexpected surprise, for Gryffindor, especially."

Harry grimaced at that, and Cedric seemed to noticed, his eyebrows knitting together. They were the only two left, as Karkaroff and Madame Maxime had already left with their champions.

As they walked through the Great Hall, Cedric turned to him. "I didn't know you were targeted so often. I mean, everyone knew about first year, and something happened in second year but..."

He shrugged, "It always gets shut up by Dumbledore. As for second year, it was another possession. He doesn't seem to be able to keep them out, now does he?"

Cedric looked unsure, "It's strange." They were silent for a little longer until Cedric spoke again, "You seem different than I expected. I mean, we haven't really talked before, but from what I seen, you usually act differently."

Laughing slightly, he said, "It's much easier acting as the thoughtless Gryffindor, than who I really am. But I'm done this year. I have no desire to keep this useless mask up as I get attacked anyways."

Cedric looked surprised, but Harry kept his eyes firmly on the wall in front of them. His excess lamia blood that came through with him from the future was singing, and it wanted to feed. And Cedric was handsome, so Harry was going to stay away until he got some amount of control again.

"Well, see you later, I guess?" Cedric said.

Harry raised a hand in goodbye, before moving up to the staircase. He past his usual place and continued on until he reached the seventh floor. When he got to the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy, he walked back and forth in front of the blank wall across from it, and slipped through the door that formed.

It was small, and barely lit, but in front of him stood a fireplace and a small bag of Floo Powder. He took the small bag in his hands, grasped the amount he needed, and spoke, "Diagon Alley!" before stepping through the flames.

He made it through, casting a wandless disillusionment charm. He had gotten quite good at wandless magic, more so than the usual witch or wizard, but he knew it probably came from his lamia blood.

He made it past the lingering drunkards, and to the brick wall that made up the entrance to the Alley. Tapping the bricks with his wand in hand, he didn't linger as he made his way through the empty shopping area. When he got to the goblin bank, he undid the charm, and entered. There were only a few wizards in the bank, the goblins looking irritated. He drew up to the closest goblin and said, "I would like to talk to my vault's manager."

The goblin looked boredly upon him, slightly sneering until he found Harry's scar and his eyes faintly widened.

"Harry Potter, we were expecting you a lot sooner," He said.

Harry shrugged, moving past him as he was gestured through. "I got caught up in Dumbledore's web."

"Indeed?" The goblin said, as they moved along the lit up corridor. It was impressive, lined with pikes, swords and the lot. Harry had seen it all before. They arrived at last at the door he remembered.

"Come in," A voice announced, and following the the other goblin inside, he found himself in a large but comfortable room. The walls were a dark, bloody red and the floor was marble. Even so, Harry didn't mind so much.

'Mister Potter, so you have finally agreed to meet me," The goblin at the table said.

He moved to the seat in front of him, laying back until he was settled before speaking. "I'm sorry, but I never got any letters. Dumbledore seems to take them away before they can reach me."

The goblin seemed to bristle at his words, his expression furious.

"Meddling old wizard! I suppose we should start again. I am Rareb, I oversee your family's vaults. I assume you don't know what lies inside them?"

Harry did, but he didn't feel the need to speak of how exactly that could be. "No, I do not. All I know is that I have a trust vault and a few others I will have access to later when I turn seventeen."

"Wrong," The goblin said, "You are incredibly rich, Mister Potter. You have inherited quite a lot of money from your title of being the defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Many have given you their vaults when they died. But that is neither here nor there. Just with the Potter vaults alone, you could live very comfortably for the rest of your life."

Harry only nodded. "I have a few things I wish to do before I leave here. I have a very limited window of time before Dumbledore realizes I'm gone. I wish to do an inheritance test, I want to close all vaults from Dumbledore and have my stolen money taken back from him, and I want to be emancipated."

Rareb stared down at him for a moment, before nodding. "It can be done, which would you like done first?"

"Have the papers signed for my emancipation so if Dumbledore catches wind of this too soon, he can't do anything about it."

The goblin nodded his head, and left the room for a bit, no doubt in search of a few objects.

He knew his lamia blood being undone would take some time, so there was a chance Dumbledore would realize he was gone, but he needed this done that night. He couldn't be under the thumb of that horrid man any longer.

A few minutes past before Rareb returned, carrying papers. He dropped them onto the desk when he sat back down.

"Sign these papers at the bottom. We'll get it filed in the Ministry, and then you'll be officially emancipated."

He did as he was told, signing his name with a flourish and a quickness from being an auror. When he was done, he passed the parchment back and Rareb filed them in his desk. He then pulled out a jewel-encrusted box, lifting the lid open. Inside laid a ring, and Harry recognised it instantly as the Potter ring.

"Because of you're emancipated, you can become Head of House a bit earlier. Just put it on."

He picked it up from the plush box, studying the heirloom, before slipping it on his finger. Warmth flowed from the ring, family magic feeling his own, before accepting him as the new Lord. He grinned at the goblin in response.

"Now, it's time for the inheritance test. I trust you have good reason for this?" Rareb said, raising an eyebrow.

For the first time, Harry smirked, remembering the goblin's glee the first time upon learning of his mother's blood.

"Oh yes. I seems my mother wasn't as human as most thought she was, and I want to see if it is the truth."

Rareb looked curiously at him, before tapping the parchment in front of him and leaving a ritual knife in front of him.

"Bleed on the parchment, and it will show up in writing."

Harry picked up the knife, and cut his palm, crimson welling at the tip and dripping onto the blank parchment. For a moment nothing happened, then writing scrawled across the paper.

Name: Harry James Potter

Date of Birth: July 31 1980

Father: James Potter (Deceased)

Mother: Lily Evans - Full-blooded Lamia (Deceased)

Status: Half-blood lamia (Blocked)

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter

Harry smirked at his lamia status as Rareb stared in shock. He seemed to snap awake and he sneered. "Well, it seemed your rumors of your mother's status were true, even if she was blocked like you are now. I'm sure you wish to unblock your own ….status?"

"I'm sure you will be willing to help me with my more pressing health afterwards? Lamia's have a rather ...creative diet."

They stared at one another, before finally the goblin said, "We'll send out your order with the vampires, as you eat the same diet."

"Not quite," Harry drawled. He had gotten used to his new diet. He drank blood, and if he got to the point of starving, he would get the urge to jump just about anyone and eat their flesh as well. As long as he drank blood regularly though, he wouldn't have such issues. In the future, he had gotten pretty close the first few weeks his lamia blood was unblocked. He hadn't been able to get past the idea that he would be living off blood for the rest of his life. After a close call with Hermione sneaking up on him though, he had made himself get used to the idea.

"Right, let's get started. If you would follow me?"

Harry rose from his chair, following Rareb through the door and farther into Gringotts until they got to one of the ritual rooms. Ironically enough, it was the same one he had used years into the future. Black marble coated the entire room, and only candles lit the room. It was dark, and old magic hid in the shadows, waiting to be used.

"Lay down and close your eyes. You'll fall asleep soon after it starts. After it is over, you might feel the need to feed, so we'll have some blood on hand for you to drink afterwards."

Harry merely nodded and laid himself onto the cold marble. He remembered the hunger he had in the future after his lamia blood was unblocked, as if all those years of thirst came upon him at once. He had been close to delirious.

Closing his eyes, he waited for the four other goblins to arrive before letting his mind drift. He didn't even notice when his thoughts turned dark and his mind was muddied with crimson.

A distinct scream that he vaguely knew was probably his, and then darkness shielded his eyes.


"...Lord Potter? Are you awake, Lord Potter?"

The name rang fuzzily in his head, bouncing off his only thoughts, and then as if he had been diving, his consciousness rose to the surface. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to rid himself of the liquid covering them. It was red.

He jolted up, feeling the blood drip freely from his moving limbs as he rose. "I'm alright," He managed, gasping for air.

"That's good. You went into quite a frenzy when your lamia blood ate away at your wizarding blood. You almost attacked us until we could get you more blood."

It was Rareb, and Harry turned slowly to him, his long serpentine body moving with him. With a quick look at his scales and he realized with relief he looked the same.

"I didn't think it would be so bad," Harry said, taking in the sight of the blood speckled goblin. It was true, it hadn't been so terrible in the future.

"No, usually a wizard's body doesn't fight like that. Most of your pain though came from your scar on your forehead. You were bleeding from it profusely."

Ah. That made sense as the time in the future he hadn't had a horcrux in his scar. In this time his lamia blood must have found it a threat and tried to destroy it. It made him wonder what had happened to the piece of Tom Riddle's soul.

"Well, strange things always happen to me," He finally said. He changed his form back to his human legs, covering himself with his robes. He conjured robes from the tatters left on the floor, and with his wand, cast a quick 'Scourgify'. The blood that covered his body was leached from his clothing and he sighed with relief.

"I should probably be going soon. How long has it been since I got here?" He asked.

"A few hours," Rareb said. "I noticed you didn't have a holster for your wand, so I had another bring up one of your family's for you."

This was why Rareb and him had worked so well together in the future. Rareb just knew what he had needed. "Thank you, I was just about to ask you that. I hope my meals will be delivered on time? I know Dumbledore goes through my mail."

The goblin snarled again at the mention of the old wizard's name, but only said, "Of course. Our owls, if needed, can get through even the trickiest of plays. You will get your drink."

Nodding, Harry followed the Goblin as they made their way back to his office.

"Thank you Rareb, may your gold grow abound and your enemies be washed of their blood."

"Same to you, Harry Potter, as it seems we have a common enemy," Rareb said, bowing with a mocking smile. He gave him the same. Dumbledore wasn't gaining any points in either of their books.

When Harry got to Honeydukes, he cast a far stronger disillusionment charm, and with a quick but illegal unlocking spell, he was inside. Just before he was fully inside, he heard the distant call of 'goodnight' from someone who sounded eerily like Bagman, and a response from an older man. Dumbledore. He had been in luck.

He rushed through the tunnel, passing the schools wards and speaking in his head clearly that he wasn't a threat to any of the students or the teachers. He knew Hogwarts would listen, as he knew she was sentient, even though Dumbledore had, years back, bound her.

It made him feel a bit sad, as the school was much more powerful when fully in use of her power, than when she was tied down by Dumbledore's ways, but he knew that the school wouldn't make a sound about his new 'dark creature' status. He was one of her favorites, after all.

Ghosting through the empty corridors, he made it to the Fat Lady, silently thanking the school. He hadn't wanted to run into anyone, but he inwardly cursed when he came to a stop in front of the portrait.

"Well well, who are you? I've never seen you around, but I have to say, you are a boy of rare beauty," The Fat Lady said, practically purring.

Harry only raised an eyebrow, while his mind scanned desperately for the password. Fairy lights? Flibbertigibbet?

"Balderdash?" He said, his voice obviously making it a question.

"Right you are, young man," She crooned, and the painting swung open. He crept in cautiously, stepping over a spilled cup and frowned. There had obviously been a party. Huh.

"Harry?"

A light, feminine voice rose over the silence, and he meet the eyes of a hesitant Hermione.

"Hermione," He said, his voice trilling like a birds. He inwardly flinched as her expression became one of complete shock. He knew what he sounded like, but lamia were created to entice young, handsome, men into getting closer, before transforming into a monster and sucking their blood. His voice was a big part of that trickery.

"You look different, Harry," She said, getting closer. He was struck by how young she looked, her face deviant of lines. No battlescars.

"What do I look like?" He asked, and he was curious. He didn't know what his younger form had taken the lamia blood to, and the only impression he had of it was the Fat Lady's.

"Well, you look ….a bit like a girl I guess?"

He burst into laughter and she seemed more concerned than ever. "Harry, what's going on? This whole nights been really strange and-"

"I know it's a lot. But I'll tell you eventually, okay?" He said, crossing his fingers for her just to accept it. Fortunately, luck seemed to be in his favor, as she simply nodded.

"So what happened around here?" He said, gesturing to the obvious discarded cups and spilled drinks by the corner. Strange moment forgotten, Hermione's nose wrinkled into one of disgust.

"They were celebrating the picking of your name from the Goblet, even though they knew you had nothing to do with it and that you're only in because someone wants you dead!"

At the last words, her voice let up in distress and Harry wanted to smile. Things were going to be different this time. He was going to be perfectly alright.

"It's okay, 'Mione. I'll be fine," He said reassuringly, threading a little lamia magic into his voice. She calmed down slightly and hung her hands.

"Look at this mess they left, and the prefects didn't even want to clean it all up."

He moved closer into the room, and took his wand from its holster. Pressing it to the floor, he spoke, "Scourgify."

Cups disappeared, liquid dried from the carpet, food retreated. He flicked his wand over to the haphazard couches, moving them back into their usual places near the fireplace.

He turned back to Hermione. "See, that wasn't so bad," He said, smiling pleasantly.

She continued to stand there, looking lost. Harry took pity on her and said, "Let's get to bed, okay?"

She nodded, blinking back the present. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight," He said softly, before going up the stairs to the fourth floor dormitories and once in bed, realized with a twinge of his heart that he missed his little snake friend already. He had been obnoxious and loud and had whined all the time, but he had gotten close to the snake as he could as a lamia to another serpent. Three years with the little bother. Three years that no longer existed.

Well, it was better that way.


The next morning he awoke by the sound of someone male calling his name. He rose, squinting through his curtains, to find Dean's elated face bouncing around. Breathing through his teeth, he ripped open the bright red curtains and snarled, "Some people are still sleeping!"

They all froze, eyes moving from the top of his head down to his toes. He gave them a look as Seamus's mouth fell open.

"Harry, is that really you?"

Glaring incredulously, he was about to speak when he remembered he no longer looked the same as he had less than twelve hours before. He glanced in the mirror behind Dean, and watched as his brows smoothed out, and his eyes took on the sickly green glow. Pouty lips, his hair no longer a bird's nest, but curly and shiny, forming perfectly around his purely aristocratic face.

"Yeah, it's me," He said simply, sliding from his bed to the showers. He heard an exclamation of surprise from one of them, and an odd breathy noise, before the water turned on and he couldn't hear the rest. He was honestly okay with that. He already knew what he looked like. Not quite a girl, but a very beautiful boy. An impeccable facade hiding the monster within.

When he was finished, he wandered back to his bed, changing into his robes. Hearing a choking sound, and he whipped around, one arm continuing to button his shirt.

Ron stood in the doorway, his expression a repeat of earlier.

"Harry?"

A burst of anger alighted in Harry's stomach, his mind ripping through every memory of the jealous coward. It was all he could do not to transform and leave him rotting. Mercy. He breathed in deeply before replying. "Yes, it's me."

His eyes widened, "Blimey, what happened to you? You look pretty."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Not really any of your business," He said, finishing with his robe and leaving the redhead behind. Ignoring the prat probably wasn't going to do much, but he was going to damn well try it out first.

He met Hermione near the doors to the Great Hall, ignoring the gobsmacked stares as he called out, "Hermione, there you are," in his musical voice that didn't fit his previous image. But it sure fit him now. Even Hermione seemed confused for a moment before remembering it was really him.

"Harry, I was about to think you wouldn't show," She announced, giving him a disapproving look.

Ah, how he missed her, even if she wasn't the same. This time he was going to give her a much better life.

Giving her a cheeky grin that quickly faded, he slipped his arm through hers and pulled her away into the Great Hall. More whispers than ever, and when Harry looked up, Dumbledore was watching him. He looked absolutely shocked, but more than that, he looked afraid. Harry opened his mouth, showing his teeth as he smiled. Fine, pearly white, incisors that came to a sharp point. He almost celebrated when the Headmaster flinched. Dumbledore didn't quite know what he had done, after all, he was just being polite. He had smiled, and it certainly wasn't meant as a challenge. Turning away, he noticed his friend had led him to their House's table, and he plopped onto the bench next to her.

"So, are you going to tell me why you look that way now?" Hermione demanded, pulling him away from thoughts of revenge and bloodied flesh-

"Huh?" Said Harry, cocking his head slightly. The hunger was already setting in, and he only hoped the Goblins would send him his meal on time. No accidents necessary.

As Hermione huffed a screech interrupted and Harry's head lifted, his eyes catching sight of the falcon; a familiar looking package dangling in it's talons. It seemed confused slightly, no doubt because of Dumbledore's magic, so Harry raised his hand and wiggled his fingers a bit. It caught on, and with swift beats of it's wings, circled around him before it landed neatly on his left arm, its claws cutting into his skin.

"Hey, beautiful," He murmured, and felt the warm liquid as it ran down his arm, staining the sleeves of his robe. He now longer minded his blood, and perhaps something was wrong with him, but he bet on it being fault of his lamia blood. Lamia were twisted. They were not like naga, but monsters whose origins came from a goddess's anger. While he wasn't cursed like his ancestor were, he did have some unusual qualities.

Once again whispers of 'that's an official Gringotts falcon' started. After beating Voldemort the first time though, several hundred eyes on him didn't bother him nearly as much as the first time around. It also helped that he wasn't hated quite so much this time around. Harry was sure some ignorant students still thought of him as a cheater, but they were worth talking to either. He crooned at the falcon again, and the large bird preened under him attentions, Harry lifting the wrapped container from the falcon's grasp.

"Tell Rareb thank you," He said, before picking up a sausage from the plate in front of him and flinging the overcooked meat at its beak. It took off with a flurry of rustling feathers, pushing past the usual crowd of owls that seemed dwarfed in comparison.

Setting the container of blood on the table, he waited for the usual interrogation.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Harry, why was a Gringotts bird here for you?" She said quickly, eyes lit up with curiosity.

"Just a potion I have to take to stay healthier. Getting rid of the damage from the Dursleys. Don't worry about it 'mione," said Harry smoothly, slicing open the package with a sharpened fingernail and removing the brown paper. Inside lied a dark bottle, smoky and covering the dark crimson sloshing from the jarred pull. Harry uncapped it, putting the bottle to his pouty lips and let the blood spill into his mouth. He felt his fangs, already longer than a humans, lengthen eagerly, as if waiting for an artery instead. If he was going to be honest with himself, he wanted that too. Warm, pulsing blood was like ambrosia compared to the stored stuff.

When he had finished, he wiped his mouth quickly, not wanting to leave any evidence, and took out his wand, flicking once and the wand springing forth into his outstretched hand. Immediately, he knew something was wrong. The wand felt strange in his hand, and it gave him the impression of sour milk when he sniffed the air with his enhanced senses. Panic set in quickly, making him glance up at where Dumbledore was sitting, watching him with a pensive expression. Mocking concern.

Harry didn't feel any pull from him though, and the fear that had thrilled him a minute ago calmed. He wasn't the Elder Wand's master.

But that meant something was wrong with his Holly wand instead. It only took him a minute.

He was dark, and his wand was not. Fuck.

"Anything wrong?" Neville said, looking slightly concerned while not wanting to be in the spotlight. It had been a long time since he had seen the stumbling Neville. He had forgotten how full of insecurity he had been. That would have to change.

Harry gave him a small smile, and Neville relaxed slightly, no longer looking as though he was about to run.

"Not really," He said, "Just worried about the Tournament."

"Oh," He replied, nodding his head a bit doggedly.

Running long fingers through his hair, he looked over at Hermione who seemed to be trying to hold herself back from asking anymore questions. His mouth twitched, and he decided to stop her discomfort. "What do you want to know?" He said finally. He knew if it didn't happen now it would only be worse later.

"Well," She said, hesitating. "Last night after you disappeared, you were gone for so long, and then you came back looking like this! And your magic was much better and now you're getting Gringotts birds sending you potions. It's all very strange, I can't help but be interested."

He took one look at her pleading face and swallowed the laugh that threaten to burst out. "After I got out from the Champion's room, it basically said that I was an adult. Now no one said that for sure, but I had a good idea that's what it meant. I snuck out-"

"Harry!" She looked incensed, and he cut her off quickly before she could get another word out.

"I got to Gringotts, and they helped me out a lot. I learned of some things." He picked up his wand again, remembering to vanish the bottle and put up silencing charms. While it wasn't the strongest of spells, he couldn't do much else with an unwilling wand. It also made up his mind whether to sneak out again or not.

"First off, Dumbledore has been hiding things from me. He's been stealing my money illegally, and hiding my inheritance, but that's getting all sorted out. My account manager helped me with my health too. It was a ritual, but this is what I should have looked like without the Dursley's wonderful care."

He peeked out at Hermione's face, and watched as her expression quickly became overwhelmed . "Are you sure? Why would he do that?"

"So I would be the perfect weapon. That's all I am to him, Hermione."

To his horror, she started to tear up. "But why? He always seemed like a nice person and he was stealing money from you and what else?" She stopped.

"Just his overall disgusting behavior. He always has known about the abuse, but he never did anything to stop it. There's other things, but I don't want to talk about it here."

She leaned back, and it was obvious she was trying to wrap her mind around the thing.

"So, then Dumbledore isn't- what if he's the one who put your name in the Goblet!" She hissed.

Harry shook his head, "No it wasn't him. But he set up the traps for the Philosopher's Stone. He wanted me to go against Voldemort. Second year, of course he knew it was a basilisk. He probably even knew about where the Chamber entrance was located, but he didn't do a thing. Last year, he could have gotten Sirius free, hell, he could have gotten him a trial years ago. He just wanted me to grow up abused and wanting someone to save me."

"And that someone would be him," Hermione finished, looking ill, her face pale. Harry nodded. "I'm alright for now. Dumbledore doesn't know I left, but I think he now suspects me a bit. I'm sure he'll send me a note later to 'come right up'." His voice was layered thick with sarcasm, but Hermione thankfully didn't press upon it.

"Now you have to deal with the Tournament as well. Why does this always have to happen to you?"

He smiled slightly, "Trouble finds me."

She sighed, "Oh Harry."

"I have to go out again and get a few things, so can you cover for me?" He said, waiting for her to respond. He didn't know quite how she would take it.

For a moment, disappointment flitted across her face, then she smiled. "Of course I will. I suppose you're going soon?"

"Yeah, I was going to go now, if you don't mind?"

"Okay."

He rose from his seat, ignoring the stares that followed in his wake, and giving Hermione another smile before striding across the room towards the huge doors.

When he got to the Room of Requirement, Harry pulled up the same room as he had used the night before and yelled out, "Diagon Alley!"

He had several things he had to do while there, but first he had to go to Gringotts as he needed to get a bag connecting to his vaults. Then he needed a new wardrobe, and most importantly, a new wand. He hadn't needed to get a darker wand in the future, as he had the Elder Wand. But now without it, his holly and phoenix wand wouldn't work like he wanted it too, and if he tried to force the magic through it, he would probably burn it out, crumbling the feather inside.

He cast a quick Notice-Me-Not charm on his clothing, and tapping the correct bricks with his faulty wand, entering the shopping area free of press for the first time in over seven years. It was amazing that all he needed was a few quick charms, but then, he hadn't killed a Dark Lord for the second time yet. Or perhaps it would never happen this time around.

It was a strange thought.

He quickly bought the type of bag he needed, and was off quickly to Twilfitt and Tattings, casting a small glamour charm on his face and turning his raven hair a muddy reddish color. The woman inside was pleasant enough, but he was glad to be finished when she was over with him. He knew he was beautiful now, but for Merlin's sake she should have kept her hands to herself. Still though, Harry was very glad when he left, wearing red colored robes that took on the color of blood, only slightly darker.

Yes, he had a bit of a problem.

With the owner's promise to send all his clothes when they were ready, he undid the glamour charms and wandered into Ollivanders, where he hoped he could find his next wand. However, if that didn't work, he would have to apparate to Germany, where he knew more exclusive, darker wands were created and bought.

"Harry Potter, eleven inches holly wood, core of a phoenix feather. I was wondering when I would see you again. You've come into your mother's inheritance."

Harry whirled around, meeting the wand maker's misty eyes. His raised hand lowered, the wand being held out to the man. Olivander took it from his outstretched hands, clucking a bit at the damage he had already put upon it.

"Come for a new wand, then?" The man said. Harry nodded, and Ollivander disappeared into the racks of wands, leaving his old wand on the table next to him.

He had just placed it inside his pocket, when the old wand maker came back, boxes towering over his head. Lifting the first wand from its box, Ollivander said, "Eleven and a quarter inches cherry wand, core of a phoenix feather."

He could sense it wasn't for him as the table splintered, and the flashes of color from his wand was a dark, angry red.

"No? How about ten and a half inches aspen wood, core of dragon heartstring."

The second wand wasn't much better. Neither was the third; twelve inches walnut wood, core of a phoenix feather.

On and on they went, the boxes rapidly diminishing until Ollivander paused, looking him over with a serious eye. He wordlessly held out a wand, and when Harry took it from him, power rose and fell inside him, humming quietly. It wasn't perfect, but he could use it very easily.

"Eleven and a half inches yew, core of a dragon heartstring. I see it doesn't quite fit, but if you somehow got your hands on one of these, you would have no trouble using it. Curious, don't you think?"

"No," He said softly, "It really isn't strange at all."

They both had been the same in the beginning, but Harry had Dumbledore changing how he thought about his Uncle and Aunt when he was younger. Tom's thirst for revenge and power was allowed to nurture instead. Both the same, but all together, very different.

Harry handed back the wand, careful not to allow his magic to bind so easily to the wood, and they continued as before. It ended up being one of the last wands he had tried out, but that probably had more to do with the wand maker's own fear of its core then being the last in the pile.

"Twelve and a quarter inches hawthorn wood, core of thestral hair."

Harry had sucked in a breath, wide-eyed at the wand in his hands. His magic caught onto it, sealing his fate to the wand quickly. He really should have known. Only those who had mastered death could use a thestral wand, after all.

"It's strange this would be your second wand, but the answers are hidden behind your many secrets, correct?"

"Thank you for the wand, how much do I owe you?" Harry said, ignoring his last question and holstering his wand. He took out his Gringotts bag.

"The usual, even if the core should not be," The wand maker said. Nodding, he pulled out seven galleons, placing them on the table. When he left the shop, his heart fluttered uncomfortably in his chest. Thestral hair, he really couldn't escape death in the way he had wanted to.

He returned to Hogwarts soon afterwards, keeping the trip to Knockturn for another day. He was only steps into returning when a girl the size of a second year came up to him.

"Professor Dumbledore wants to see you," She said, blushing slightly.

Harry grimaced, taking the note from her. He didn't need to look to know it was the ridiculous password to his office.

"Thank you," He said before heading in the direction of his 'esteemed' Headmaster.

Halfway there a thought struck him.

If Dumbledore was going to waste his time, then he was at least going to make it enjoyable.