Repentant Snake 🐍🇻🇦🇺🇸🇨🇴

*The following is a rewrite of the Yule Ball, found in Chapter 23 of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire, and spring boarding off the premise of this wonderful comic.* The common room looked strange, the usual mass of black robes now an assortment of colors that ranged from yellow to blue to red and everything in between. Draceana was waiting for Harry at the foot of the stairs, a clear gap between her and the rest of the crowd that didn’t dare approach. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be seen, much to Harry’s surprise, but he supposed that they were ordered to keep watch from somewhere else. He stopped upon stepping through the crowd. Amidst the mass of frills and lace, Draceana’s dress robes were sleeker, more elegant. They were the color of white, bordering on silver, trailing up to wrap around her neck, yet keeping her shoulders bare. Her silver eyes were distant, bordering on cold as she stared beyond where her gaze rested rested under a veil of blonde hair, the rest of which was tied into a neat bun. When he cleared his throat, her eyebrows rose for a moment before furrowing at him with irritation. “You’re late.” Harry frowned and looked at the clock which was five minutes before their agreed time. “You said eight.” “And you should be at least half an hour early for something as important as this..” “Then why didn’t you-” “Because you should have known.” Draceana circled around him, humming to herself. “You clean up nicely, Potter. Your robes are shabby and it looks like you’ve gone and hacked away at them with dull scissors, but it is an improvement, I suppose.” Harry looked back towards Ron for support, only to find that he had been dragged away by Pravati. His friend was casting his attention everywhere but towards him, both on purpose and no doubt looking for Hermione. Draceana snapped her fingers. “Pay attention, Potter. I wish you had arrived on time so we had more time to go over things, but we’ll have to make due.” “What are you-” She flicked out her wand from her robes and tapped the frayed edges of his robes, whispering the spell under her breath. Small slivers of cloth fell from the frayed ends, leaving the sleeves sharper and cleaner. She ran a hand through his hair as well to swipe it to the side, but he brushed it away. “Will you stop?” She pressed her lips thin. “No.” He heard snickers off to the side and caught Fred passing them by. Their eyes met for only a brief moment, and the twin gave him a wink before turning away. Draceana had noticed the whole thing and focused on Harry’s deepening scowl, the sight bringing a smirk to her lips. “Upset that you’re a galleon short?” Harry’s brows shot up and he looked down at her. “You knew?” “You made a bet in the middle of the hallway, Potter, of course I knew, and I will not have you lining your pockets at my expense.” She tapped between his shoulders. “Now straighten you back, champion or no, I will not be seen standing next to a sloucher.” A firm wish to stay in the common room settled in Harry’s mind, but it remained unanswered as he was pulled towards the entrance hall. This chamber was packed with students as well, all milling around and waiting for the clock to strike eight, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those who had partners from different Houses edged through the crowd to find one another, though most had sequestered themselves amongst their own House. Off towards the Gryffindor side, he could see Parvati guiding Padma towards Ron, who was still looking everywhere for Hermione. The twins, indistinguishable aside from their dress robes of pink for Parvati and turquoise for Padma, looked at Ron with frowns. Parvati’s partner, a boy from Gryffindor who Harry hadn’t spoken with much, started to chat the both of them up. He seemed like a nice enough fellow, enough to make the twins smile, which eased some guilt Harry had for changing plans at the last minute. He hadn’t expected to be with the one at his side, ever. So distracted was he by that fact that he barely even noticed Fleur Delacour passing by, looking stunning in robes of satin, a deeper silver than the ones Draceana wore. The Slytherin girl snorted upon seeing who accompanied Fluer, Ravenclaw’s Quidditch captain, Roger Davies. “Look at him. The least he could do is not walk around with his jaw hanging open. Right, Potter?” “Hm?” Harry paused his own looking around. “What was that?” Draceana gave him a side eye. “...nevermind.” He gave a once over of the room again, unable to find any trace of someone who should be there. Where was Hermione? Draceana clearing her throat caught his attention again, but this time he noted that it was not to pull his gaze. She was staring over to a group of other Slytherins, composed of Crabbe, Goyle, and some other boy that Pansy Parkinson clutched onto, adorned in very frilly robes of pale pink. Draceana’s usual lingerers were both wearing green, resembling moss-colored boulders. Neither of them, which Harry noted with a small amount of pleasure, had managed to find a partner. Rather, they were looking over towards them with shadows over their eyes, but another cough from Draceana and a shooing motion from her hand forced them away. The oak front doors opened, their aged creaks drawing the eyes of everyone as the Drumstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum stood at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes that Harry didn’t know. The sight of her sharpened Draceana’s gaze, but he didn’t know why that was. Over the lead couple’s heads, the lawn of the front castle revealed itself. It had been transformed into a sort of grotto, one filled to the brim with fairy lights. Most of the fairies who fueled this luminescence -hundreds, from his guess- were to be seen, which meant that they were most likely sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured through the lawn. The rest, a small handful of them, fluttered over the statues of what appeared to be Father Christmas and his reindeer. Professor McGonnagall’s voice echoed through the hall, its tone too calm for the volume it possessed. “Champions over here, please!” Draceana held out her arm, a bemused look on her face upon seeing the uncertainty on his. “Scared, Potter?” Harry frowned and rolled his shoulders back. “Of course not.” He looped his arm around hers, and she pulled herself closer. He took one last glance at Ron, who was staring wide eyed at the girl next to Krum, much to Padma’s dismay. There was little time to process what that was about, for the eyes of the parting crowd felt heavy upon him as he and Draceana made their way through. “Them, together?” “Must have lost a bet.” “I don’t know, they look good together.” Draceana’s grip tightened on his arm, but nothing made itself known on her face. They met up with Professor McGonnagall, who was in dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather… unique wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat. She raised an eyebrow upon seeing Draceana around his arm, but said nothing beyond directing them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside. The champions were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down. Fluer Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest to the doors, with Davies looking so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that taking his eyes off of her proved to be an impossible task. Cedric and Cho stood close to Harry, and beyond the brief smiles they shared with one another in greeting, he looked away from them to avoid conversation. Draceana studied his face then, her own expression unreadable. What was she planning? He distracted himself by taking a closer look at the girl next to Krum, and his jaw dropped. It was Hermione. Except, she didn’t look like Hermione at all. Something had been done to her hair; what was once bushy was instead sleek and shiny, twisted up into an elegant knot that sat neatly at the back of her head. Her dress robes were made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and the air about her was almost wholly unfamiliar. Perhaps it was the absence of the twenty or so books that were usually strung over her back, or maybe it was her smile - the reduction of her front teeth more noticeable than ever. Harry couldn’t understand how he hadn’t spotted it before. Her smile turned to a beam upon noticing him. “Hi Harry!” Her mouth hung upon seeing who was at his side. “And… Draceana?” His partner clutched herself closer to him. “What of it?” Her tone had lost the smug edge it held with him, and rather than the disbelief on Harry’s face, there was a sharp look about her features that was almost a glare. The doors to the Great Hall opened to allow the students to funnel in. Krum’s fan club from the library stalked past, their expressions swapping between adoration for their chosen champion and the deepest of loathing for Hermione. Such looks were on Crabbe and Goyle as they walked by, though Draceana didn’t seem to notice and only shared a small smile with Pansy, who looked all kinds of excited… almost too excited for just going to a ball. Ron stomped by without a word, his eyes locked ahead as Padma hurried after him. Once everyone was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall organized the champions and their partners to form them up into a line of pairs behind her. They followed the professor into the Great Hall, the applause that greeted them so loud that Harry nearly stumbled when it began. Draceana’s back stiffened as they passed through, and he straightened his out of reflex upon seeing the calm she possessed. She allowed a faint, knowing smile to quirk up the corners of her lips, one that Harry took for confidence, but the briefest of trembles to it had given him pause. He ignored the questions that brought and stared ahead to keep the large round table at the top of Hall, where the judges sat, in his sights. The walls of the Hall were covered in sparkling silver frost, with countless garlands of mistletoe and ivy threaded across the starry black ceiling. Gone were the House tables, replaced by smaller, lantern-lit ones that must have numbered at about a hundred. Each looked to be big enough to sit a dozen people comfortably, but such was the density of the students that it was indistinguishable from a crowd, one that had all their eyes on them. The weight of their attention pressed upon Harry’s shoulders, and he concentrated on keeping his feet from tripping over each other. Draceana remained calm, clearly still enjoying herself, but the tightening of her arm around his told him where most of her attention lay. At first, he thought it a reminder to keep his posture straight, an urging that made him feel as if he was some show dog for her to show off, but the more they walked, the more he could feel her leaning against him. There was no tremble to her, but by the time they were halfway across the Hall, he felt as if he was the one holding her up, though no one seemed to notice. Except Crabbe and Goyle, who continued to glare daggers their way. Pansy was also focused upon them, her expression the exact opposite. Harry spared a glance at Ron, who was watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes. Padma was sulking in the seat next to him. Dumbledore wore a bright smile as the champions approached the top table, its calm air unchanged from the one he had always had in private. Karkaroff, however, was of a similar disposition to Ron’s as he watched Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple and garish yellow stars, clapped with the same enthusiasm the students possessed, perhaps even more. Madame Maxine, who had switched out her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, held a more polite air to her applause. Mr. Crouch, Harry suddenly realized, was not there. No, the fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley. When the champions and their partners arrived at the table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, the gesture accompanied by a pointed stare at Harry. He took the hint with a sigh and took the seat, noting that Percy was wearing fresh, navy-blue dress robes that amplified his already insufferable smugness. “I’ve been promoted.” Percy spoke before Harry could even ask. From his tone, he might as well have been announcing his coronation as king of the universe. “I’m now Crouch’s personal assistant, and I’m here representing him.” Harry raised a brow. “Why didn’t he come?” He regretted the question as soon as he asked. No doubt this was going to lead to lectures on cauldron bottoms all through dinner. “I’m afraid to say Mr. Crouch isn’t well, not well at all. Hasn’t been right since the World Cup. Hardly surprising - overwork. He’s not as young as he was - though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry and then, Mr. Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with-” “The misbehavior of his house-elf, correct?” Draceana leaned over to make herself known past Harry. Percy nearly jumped. Draceana pursed her lips together. “Blinky?” Harry shook his head. “Winky.” ‘“Ah, that’s the one. I was told that Mr. Crouch dismissed her right after that fiasco with the wand. Of course, he is getting on and still needs looking after. Without a house-elf, one tends to have a definite drop in home comforts.” She tapped Harry’s shoulder as she spoke. He said nothing in return. She snorted. “With the tournament to arrange and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with-” she clicked her teeth and sucked in a quick breath, “not to mention that Skeeter woman buzzing around, I think the poor man has earned himself a well earned, quiet Christmas.” She rested her cheek in her hand. “Of course, anyone who is anybody would know of these things, would you not agree?” Percy struggled to find his words. “I…well… of course!” “Yes, and how fortunate is Mr. Crouch to have someone so reliable to take his place.” Draceana’s smile widened. “Tell me, does he still call you Weatherby?” “What?” “Your name, that is what he was calling you, was it not? I suppose carrying around the mark of Weasley may earn you a few odd looks, so I can see why you would forgo correcting a man who so clearly cares about you. At least you have your brothers to carry the name properly, warts and all.” Harry looked at Draceana in confoundment. Had she actually defended the Weasleys? Her demeanor was so casual, so without venom that it was as if she was unaware of the daggers that hid behind her words, but he knew better. Draceana may have been full of hot air most of the time, but so aloof was her tone in this moment that the contrast revealed the cold steel beneath. Her expression remained neutral, however, despite the looks that the others at the table had thrown their way. Thankfully, they were spared further conversation as people began to order food. The golden plates glittered in front of them, empty aside from the small menus that lay on top of them. Harry picked his up with uncertainty and looked around, wondering where the waiter was to take his order. Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down at his own menu, then spoke clearly to his plate. “Pork chops!” And pork chops appeared. The rest of the table followed suite, placing their orders on their plates as well. Harry glanced up at Hermione, who was only a few seats away from him, to see how she felt about this new and more complicated method of dining -surely it meant that house elves were in for plenty of extra work?- but for once, his friend didn’t seem to be thinking about S.P.E.W. Past her initial shock at Draceana, she was deep in conversation with Viktor Krum, hardly aware of what she was even eating. Draceana tapped her menu against the table. “I would choose the venison.” Harry looked over at her. “What?” “For your order. It is the simplest meal, easiest to get down when you’re nervous.” She gave him a look that he couldn’t quite read. “I will not have you sitting next to me looking sick because you cannot handle your food.” He scowled. “Maybe you should order that for yourself. Don’t think I didn’t notice you clutching onto me for dear life as we walked in here.” Draceana scoffed and brought her lips closer to her plate. “Salmon.” The fish blinked into existence and she gave him an expectant glance. He almost ordered something else out of spite, but the twisting in his stomach was already bordering on too much. “Venison.” His meal appeared on his plate. Draceana gave him a satisfied pat on his shoulder, but said nothing else as she started to eat. Harry absentmindedly cut at his food and shoved a piece of it into his mouth. The taste was simple, but pleasant, and he could swallow it with ease. Draceana continued to remain silent when he looked over at her, but he could see the smug quirk to her lips. He glowered away from her, listening back in on the conversation between Krum and Hermione, and it occurred to Harry that he’d never actually heard the champion speak before. He was certainly talking now, and very enthusiastically, at that. “Vell, ve ‘ave a castle also, not as big as zis, nor as comfortable, I am thinking.” He was surprisingly animated as he spoke. “Ve ‘ave just four floors, and ze fires are lit only for magical purposes, but ve ‘ave grounds larger than even these - though in vinter, there is very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying zem. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains-” “Now, now, Viktor!” Karkaroff’s laugh didn’t reach his cold eyes. “Don’t go give away anything else, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!” Dumbledore smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. “Igor, all this secrecy… one would almost think you didn’t want visitors.” “Well, Dumbledore…” Karkaroff displayed his yellowing teeth to their fullest extent. “We are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealousy guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school’s secrets, and right to protect them?” Harry sank further into his seat. Draceana covered her mouth to barely hide her giggle. Dumbledore raised a calming hand. “Oh, I would never dream of assuming I know all of Hogwarts’ secrets, Igor.” He had taken an amicable tone. “Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turning on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But, I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Only it may only appear at the quarter moon - or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder.” Harry snorted towards his plate. Percy frowned, but a glance at Draceana kept his lips sealed. Harry could have sworn Dumbledore had given him a very small wink. At the same time, Fluer Delacour was offering her critique of the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies. “Ziz is nothing.” She gave a dismissive wave as she looked around the sparkly walls of the Great Hall. “At ze Palace of Beaxbatons, we ‘ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do melt, of course… zey are like ‘uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place.” Draceana leaned in. “That sounds lovely. We have such things around Hogwarts as well, just not in the dining hall. There are too many rowdy types here, especially those Gryffindor people, rather uncouth they are.” Harry looked beyond the table towards Crabbe and Goyle, then at Draceana. “I think casting stones is unwise in glass houses.” She smirked. “Not when I know a wall is not in my way.” Fleur giggled. “You keep good company.” Draceana shrugged. “Adequate, I suppose.” She took a small bite of her salmon, which Harry noticed she had barely touched. “What do you think of our food?” “It is good, but ours seemply superb, ze finest in France. And we ‘ave choirs of wood nymphs, ‘oo serenade us as we eat. We ‘ave none of zis cold armor in ze ‘alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbaton, ‘e would be expelled like zat.” Fluer slapped her hand onto the table and gave a quick nod to herself. “Very interesting indeed. I am quite curious to know more, perhaps over tea?” Fleur titled her head back and forth. “I don’t see why not, we will discuss details later.” Draceana smiled. “Wonderful.” She looked over to Fleur’s partner. “Oh and Roger, it would do you well to make sure your fork ends up in your mouth. Entracing as Fleur is, I’m sure she would be even more enchanting with someone that doesn’t have food on his face.” Roger shook himself out of his stupor and wiped his face. “Right, sorry.” Fleur flashed a grateful smile to Draceana from across the table, and she gave one of her own back. Harry barely registered the food in his mouth as he watched the exchange. There was always some expectation that Draceana would be adept in affairs such as this, but to see it in action, compared to the pompous air that she always held everywhere else, created too sharp a contrast for him to be able to process all at once. Despite everything she had put him through, he had to admit that it was impressive. He’d never tell her that to her face, but there was no sense in refusing to notice it. Harry looked around the Hall to clear his thoughts. Hagrid was sitting at one of the other staff tables. His horrible hairy brown suit wrapped around his massive frame, but he almost looked small gazing up at the top table. The groundskeeper waved, but it wasn’t at Harry, who looked around and that Madame Maxine was returning it, her opals glittering in the candlelight. “Oh my… him?” Harry turned to Draceana, who had a calculating look in her eyes. In the end, she shrugged and struck up another conversation with Fleur, who was happy to engage. Hermione was now teaching Krum to say her name properly. He kept calling her “Hermy-own.” “Her-my-oh-nee.” Her voice was slow and clear. “Herm-own-ninny.” She caught Harry’s eye for a moment and giggled. “Close enough.” When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Once no seats were filled, the headmaster waved his wand and all the tables zoomed back along the walls, leaving the floor clear. Another flick of his wrist conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. Set upon it were a set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes. The Weird Sisters trooped up onto the stage to applause that tread the line between enthusiastic and manic. They were all extremely hairy, adorned in black robes that had been ripped in torn in places that somehow made them look stylized instead of ragged. So focused was Harry upon them picking up their instruments that he’d almost forgotten what was coming up. It was only after the lanterns had all gone out and the other champions stood up that he remember. “Come Potter.” Draceana held out her hand. “We’re supposed to dance.” He could feel his meal start to rise from his stomach as he stood up. So dulled were his thoughts from dread that he took her hand more out of seeking anything to hold onto. She glanced at his face, her eyes narrowing, but guided him onto the dance floor with a gentleness that nearly shook him from his stupor. They walked onto the brightly lit dance floor, a slow, mournful tune flowing across it from the instruments of the Weird Sisters. He avoided catching anyone’s eye (he could see George and Fred waving at him and sniggering), fixating on his hand intertwined with Dracaena's. She took hold of his other one and guided it to her waist while keeping a firm grip on the one she was already holding. He always expected her skin to be cold, but she was warm. She looked at him, her face softer than it usually was. “Just let me guide you.” And so he let her. He had no experience with dancing, but it was clear that Draceana did as she steered them across the dance floor, murmuring in low tones that only he could hear, telling him where to step and how to move with her. He kept his eyes fixed over the heads of everyone watching, but he could tell most of them were looking at them, the two people who they never could have imagined together dancing in front of them. That shock soon wore off, and soon many of the crowd took their steps onto the dance floor. His shoulders relaxed one the champions were no longer the center of attention, but his eyes still wandered. Neville and Ginny were dancing nearby. He could see her wincing frequently as Neville trod on her feet, but she seemed happy overall. Their eyes crossed once, but he looked away before he could see her reaction. 1/2

*This is a retelling of the final exchange between Harry and Voldemort in chapter 36 of Deathly Hollows, right after Molly Weasley defeats Bellatrix Lestrange.* “Protego!” Harry’s Invisibility Cloak fluttered from him as the spell left his wand. The Shield Charm filled the middle of the hall, and it only took moments before everyone knew who was the source. “Harry!” “HE’S ALIVE!” The cheers died down as quickly as they began. Pressure filled the air, choking the words at their throats, for they dared not break the tension that built between Harry and Voldemort when their eyes met. Slowly, their circling footfalls tread upon the sudden silence, the creaks of their hands squeezing their wands so loud that it was like boards about to snap. Harry could see movement out of the corner of his eye, and raised his hand to stop them. “I ask that you stay behind the shield. It has to be this way. It has to be me.” The Dark Lord hissed. “Potter doesn’t mean that. That isn’t how he works, is it? Tell me, who do you plan to hide behind today?” “Nobody.” Harry flicked his hand out, a lash of red erupting from his want and lancing towards Voldemort’s chest. His foe flicked his wrist to brush the spell to the side, splashing it harmlessly against Harry’s own shield. “I defeated Dumbledore, boy, do not think-” “You didn’t!” Another spell flew from Harry’s wand, striking the shield that Voldemort summoned with enough force to make him stagger. The Dark Lord looked at him in shock. By every metric, that shouldn’t have happened, unless what Harry had guessed was true. “It wasn’t you who felled the greatest wizard to ever live, was it Tom?” Anger flared The Dark Lord’s red eyes. “You dare?!” A streak of green blasted from the Elder Wand, only to be batted aside with a simple deflection from Harry. That confirmed it, and he couldn’t let Voldemort figure it out. “It was Snape who killed him!” “Under my orders!” “No, under his.” Spell and curse crashed against each other, their collisions thunder that drowned all else out but their words. Confusion had made itself known on Voldemort’s face, and Harry took the opening, letting anger fuel the next spell he spoke. “Sectumsempra!” A flash of white slashes across The Dark Lord’s chest and he cried out in pain, disbelief splaying across his snakish features as blood poured from his lips. Harry continue to let his spells fly. “Dumbledore chose how he died! Months in advance, and who do you think he asked to do such a task? The man you thought was so faithful a servant!” He could hear the gasps from behind the shield, but stayed focused. “What does it matter?!” A flurry of magic whipped out from the Elder Wand, all of which Harry deflected with ease. The anger on Voldemort’s face grew hotter. “He is dead and rotting in a marble grave! I have seen his corpse, Potter! He will not return and that Half-Blood filth lies in a pool of his own blood! This wand is proof of that!” Curse after curse battered against Harry’s protections, but each one lacked the weight to break them. “And such display you are giving with it, Tom! Who is it that bleeds in this moment? Who is it that has failed to kill his enemy thrice?!” “You think you know more magic than me, Potter?! I, who dared venture where the great Albus Dumbledore only dreamed of?!” “Oh, he dreamed of it, but he always had what you will never possess, and that is the wisdom to leave those path’s untread!” “He was weak!” “And yet, you had to hide behind another to kill him, and even then you were dancing to his tune the whole time.” 1/3