What would happen if the Sorting Hat never listened to Harry's requests and sorted him into Slytherin? Variation on the subject.
Warnings: Sex, blood and violence and the deaths of canonical characters. Vocabulary straight from Nocturne.
The whole thing will be quite long tapeworm of a production, so please be patient.
Disclaimer: The characters of course belong to the author of the original, I just borrowed them and pestered.
Beta reading: MissJJD
Prologue
It was the last day of August. Outside the window the sun shone intensely, pouring his warmth on Hogwart's grounds. A gentle breeze swayed the branches of the Whomping Willow, and delicate, fluffy, white clouds drifted on the sky. A perfect day, someone naïve would say. A perfect day to kill somebody.
Dumbledore was sitting in the chair, once again looking from behind his half-glasses at a parchment lying before him. In his blue eyes one could have seen dancing fires. But they didn't have anything to do with the flames of joy, which were easy to spot there usually.
He rose with a swing from his Headmaster's chair. The parchment, which he held in his hand, he threw on the floor and hurled lightning at the wall. A loud bang and a blinding flash spread throughout the office. Numerous devices, drawers and tables began squeaking and creaking, throwing a cornucopia of lights from within themselves.
"I'll kill you, liar!You devious, sneaky..."he called under his breath, walking around the room back and forth. Fawkes, alarmed, raised his head and looked at his master. He flew to his shoulder to comfort him, seeing that he's upset. Although, to call him just annoyed was a big understatement. Dumbledore hissed from behind his clenched jaws and he driven off the bird away.
"Find me him, stupid bird. Find him and bring him here so I can kill him!" he bird flew through the window of the tower. Dumbledore stood for a moment, staring into sky, where the phoenix flew. "Find him for me. He won't flee with Harry Potter. Harry Potter is mine," he growled under his breath, glancing one last time upon the resignation written with so well-known handwriting. Small, black letters seemed to mock him, to lift their tails and dots in a sarcastic smile. As if his Potions Master stood before him in person. He reduced to ashes cursed parchment. But didn't feel any relief.
His Harry Potter. His Golden Boy. Bargaining chip in the war against Voldemort disappeared. And everything was Severus Snape's guilt.