A/N: hello and welcome to my HP AU. A few quick words: this is a universe where Lily's sacrifice
did kill Voldemort but the death eaters got to Harry before Dumbledore did. There will be dark
themes to this fic, don't read if it will trigger you. I'm making it mature for what might spring up in the
future. This introductory chapter is very short but the future ones will be much longer.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, I am only borrowing her characters
and will attempt to return them without causing too much fangirl damage.
That said, sit back and enjoy.
The screams tore at Snape's heart. He could hear Bellatrix's insane cackle and repeated shrieks of
"Crucio!". Surrounded by the other death eaters there was not much Snape could do to intervene, even
if he wanted to. He watched as the little boy – the spitting image of Snape's old nemesis – screamed in
high-pitched agony. The child was very small for his age. For 6 years after the dark lord's death
Bellatrix had tortured the little child in a muggle trailer park where no one would think to look for
him, or care about the screams of a child. Snape could not prevent the pity that was snaking through
his heart.
"He's Malfoy's age," Narcissa sobbed, oblivious to the looks of disgust from the other death eaters.
Snape glanced over her head at Lucious Malfoy, who was pale and swaying on his feet. His old friend
met his gaze bleakly.
"Bellatrix seems to have finally lost all reason," Snape murmured. Lucious' eyes darted between him
and the witch who had given up her wand to kick the boy repeatedly in the stomach. Finally Lucious'
lips firmed and he nodded at Snape.
"No child deserves this," he said grimly. As if they had practiced, the two wizards lifted their wands
in unison. Green flashed and several thuds were heard. Bellatrix's cackle cut off in an odd gurgle. The
death eaters fell one by one, leaving only Snape, Lucious and Narcissa who was now screaming
through her tears. Snape spared her moment's worth of pity as Lucious gathered her in a hug. She had
just watched her sister and most of her friends die.
With slow, measured steps Snape neared the son of James Potter who was cowering on the ground.
The child was a mess of bruises, cuts, broken bones and clear malnutrition. Knowing Bellatrix she had
never taught the child to speak. As a matter of fact, staring down at the weeping boy Snape knew it
would be a mercy to put an end to the child.
Snape lifted his wand.
Just then the boy glanced up at him. Harry shrank away from the man in terror, but the spell he was
expecting did not come. Snape stood frozen. He was looking into the forest green eyes of Lily Potter.
His Lily. He felt her loss deeply as if he was staring down at her broken body again for the first time.
"Severus?" Lucious snapped him back into the present.
"Have Dumbledore deal with the... child," his voice came out strangled. He turned on his heel and
strode away. Behind him the child of Lily made a sad noise. Snape didn't look back.
(10 years later)
Harry wandered slowly into the big hall. There were rows upon rows of students seated at tables so
long Harry almost wondered if he was dreaming. Where the ceiling was supposed to be large sparkly
stars were twinkling down at him. Realising he was falling behind the other first years, he lengthened
his stride to catch up. It didn't take long – he was quite a bit taller than most of them. Dumbledore had
explained to him that most kids started school at 11 years old, but that Harry had a unique situation
that had required him to wait until he was sixteen. Harry knew what he meant by unique. He had been
far behind in growth, both mentally and physically, when the aurors had found him as a child. He was
shy to be so much older than his classmates, but he did his best to suppress the nasty little voice inside
telling him that he would never be a great wizard. He couldn't even use magic accidentally. He was a
fraud. Dumbledore had told him to be patient, that his magic would come, but he had not missed the
anxiety in the old wizard's eyes as he spoke.
"When I call your name you will step up and I will place the sorting hat on your head. You will then
be sorted into your houses," Minerva McGonagall was saying. Harry had met the old witch a few
times before. She looked incredibly strict but she always snuck him cookies when Dumbledore wasn't watching. The names were called alphabetically, leaving Harry to nervously watch as the others were s sorted into their houses. When it was finally his turn he had to take a deep breath to steady himself
"Harry Potter!"
Whispers went up all around the hallway but Harry tuned the noise out. The healer at St Mungos had
warned him that people would be curious about him. He could handle this. He straightened his back
and stiffly took a seat in front of McGonagall. When she placed the musty hat on his head Harry
caught the scent of leather and dust.
"Musty! I'll have you know that I am cleaned once a week!" The hat spat indignantly. Harry couldn't
help but wince at the loud voice in his ears. Even now loud sounds echoed with snippets of the past.
Bellatrix cackling as she tortured him, death eaters calling him horrible names, his own screams. He
took a few more deep gulps of breath to avoid being drawn back into his memories. The smell of old
hat and candle wax helped center him. He wasn't at Bellatrix's place.
"Hmm, there is courage here. You would make a fair Gryffindor."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Gryffindors were the good guys, right? Not like...
"However," the hat continued. "There is anger here too, and a thirst to prove yourself. You would do
better in..."
Harry's heart plummeted into his stomach. He already knew which house the hat had chosen.
"Slytherin!"
A few cheers went up. Harry moved to the green house as if he was watching himself walk from
outside his body. The house of Bellatrix Lestrange. The house for all that is evil and broken. And as
he walked a sense of self-loathing filled him. He was no better than the witch he had hated – hated –
as a child. He was a Slytherin.