Author note: Ok, It's an attempt, completely unbelievable (but then most H/D's are) and very out of character, but I wanted to try it. Set in Harry's fifth year, 'cause events in the later books would screw up my imaginings. Also, I'm telling you now, over the next couple of months, there will be almost no updates. A level exams are coming up, and as my biology teacher once said, I "need as much help as I can get." Lovely man... NOT!! True though, Sigh anyhow! On with the story, hope you like it!
Dedication: This is for Peter Downing. He knows why.
WARNING: Slash! Don't read if you don't like. Also, darker Harry and lots of Dumbledore bashing.
One...
It was bitingly cold in the Hogwarts grounds. August was just over and already, it looked as if snow would start to fall any moment. The ground was almost rock solid and the Gamekeeper had a rather large job on his hands trying to keep the crops alive. The greenhouses too had a thousand spells on them to keep the magical plants from being harmed by the early winter. The animals of the Forbidden Forest were desperately trying to escape the cold. Aragogs tribe of spiders had woven a web so thick across their hollow that no light entered from the full moon above. The unicorns were huddled in their herd stamping their hooves and shivering. The centaurs were stargazing to find the answer to the frozen weather, but to no avail.
So why, when animals that lived outside were frozen and plants that flourished in winter were dying, was a boy walking along the track, in nothing but a t-shirt, baggy trousers, trainers and a summer cloak?
……………………
September the first. Already, they were coming back. These were the thoughts that passed through Professor Dumbledores mind as he sat in his office awaiting the start-of-year feast.
The headmaster sincerely hoped that this year would be normal. Well, relatively normal, considering this was Hogwarts. It had only been a few of months since a student had died and the most powerful Dark Lord had returned once again to the world of the living.
Of course, half the Wizarding world knew next to nothing of either of these facts. Cornelius Fudge had stopped the news going any further than Hogwarts. The man truly was an idiot. A boy had been murdered and all Minister Fudge could do was say 'I am afraid Cedric Diggory died in a freak accident.' Well, sorry, but what a load of bollocks!
There was a sudden knock on the door. "Enter." Said the headmaster, almost lazily, thinking it to be one of the professors informing him of the students arrival.
His shock was understandable when a boy of fifteen walked through the door.
"Professor Dumbledore, I have a favour to ask." The boy said.
The headmaster however, was completely baffled. Who was this youth? A moment later, the boy flicked his hair off his face with a jerk of his head and rested his eyes on Dumbledore's.
Merlin. The old professor managed to force his eyes from the two dark emerald ones to look at the lad's forehead. A thin, lightning shaped scar was just visible underneath the long fringe. It was Harry Potter.
"A…ask away my lad." Well? What else was he to say?
Harry paused, looking as though he was trying to find the correct words. Dumbledore took the moment to inspect the boy. Circe, he's changed. In front of him stood, not the young innocent boy he had seen two months ago, but a hardened, sombre young man. His hair was different. Longer, streaked with a dark green. His eyes were circled with a thin line of black and no longer held the spark of innocent happiness they had once. They were full of grim and sadistic power. Harry also had a fang through his left ear, widening the lobe along with a bar through his upper ear cartilage. He also sported a lip-ring to the right side of his mouth. Put together with the black, gothic clothes, height difference, tattoo's and change in aura, it would have been surprising if the headmaster had recognised him straight away.
Harry finally spoke, his eyes full of fire, as though daring Dumbledore to deny him what he requested. "I want a resorting."
……………………
The Great Hall was, as usual, decorated to within an inch of its proverbial life. Candles, banners, streamers, indoor fireworks, ghosts doing their own unique tricks, and a rather drunk Hagrid who was hitting on Professor Sinistra, whom, it was scary to see, did not seem to mind one bit.
As the last first years were sorted into their respective houses, the hall fell silent as Professor Dumbledore stood to make his speech. The quiet was not going to last for long.
"Before I start my speech, I have one announcement to make. A student came to me today and asked for a resorting."
Harry smirked in the shadows. Since when had he asked? Demanded was more like it.
"I granted the persons wish and they will be resorted now." The headmaster nodded to Professor McGonagall.
"Potter, Harry. Please make your way to the stool." She said, her mouth a very thin line. Harrys smirk grew, she's not happy with me.
Pushing himself away from the wall, he walked up to the head table. As he had predicted, the hall was no longer silent. The hiss of talk seemed to take over the room occasionally punctuated by a "No way…" or "What? Why?!" Harry swaggered, slowly, up to the top of the hall, the most dangerous-looking smirk on his face. When he finally reached her, Harry bowed to his ex-head of house and sat on the stool. Not being tiny anymore, the hat fitted almost perfectly on his head.
Harry Potter? Hmmm, knew I'd speak to you again.
"You know too much," Harry thought, with a chuckle. "So? Where am I going this time?"
Guess. Said the hat into his head.
"Slytherin?"
Now who's the know-it-all?
"Miss Granger, though, I come a close second"
Indeed...
"...SLYTHERIN!"
"Fuck that!" It was Ron Weasley.
"What the HELL are you doing Harry?!" Hermione Granger shouted. Both teens were on their feet.
"What?" said the newest Slytherin. "Isn't a Prefect allowed to change his mind?"
"You can't be a Prefect. Ron and I are the Prefects!" Hermione was fuming.
"Of Gryffindor…" Harry stood and walked to his house table. Half way there, however, he stopped and turned to face the professors. "By the way, who is my partner?"
"That," said a drawling voice from the Slytherin table, "Would be me."
Draco Malfoy stood and, walking forward, offered Harry his hand. "Perhaps we should start again. Hello, I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Harry looked at him.
"Talk about déjà vu." And shook hands with his rival of four years.
……………………
It was the end of the feast, and Harry had never been so happy to escape the Gryffindors. More than half the house had marched over to him and demanded to know why he'd left the Lions Den for the Snake Pit. He never gave his true reason, but cryptic or humorous ones. His favourite had been: "Have you ever heard of Freud's theories and what he thinks snakes refer to? No? Well, look it up." The Slytherins around him, all of whom knew about Freud's dream hypothesis and it's idea of a snake representing a penis, chocked on their food.
"Potter?" Pansy Parkinson said, whilst Harry lead the way to the Slytherin common room. "You know what you said about Freud?" he nodded, wondering where the hell this was going. "Well, are you actually gay, or was that an act?"
Harry grimaced. "Yes, I am gay, and if there is the same prejudice in Slytherin as in the other houses, I will be leaving Hogwarts and never returning."
"Prejudice? Against gay people?" Pansy let out a bark like laugh. "Hardly Potter. Half the lads are gay and quite a few girls are too. Those who aren't are desperate for a gay friend. You'll never have been so popular. Do I have your permission to spread this piece of information around our house?"
Harry, stunned into silence, nodded once and carried on walking. He just wanted to get rid of the first years and get to bed right now, but another voice called his name.
"Potter, how exactly do you know the way to the Slytherin common room?" Draco looked suspicious.
Harry stopped walking, staring into the middle distance. Biting his lip, he said "No comment." And carried on walking.
"You have to tell us now!" Blaise Zabini yelled.
……………………
"So," said Harry, sitting in the common room. "Why were there only one Slytherin and three Gryffindors chosen for Prefect?"
"Simple. No one but me in our year wanted to be a prefect and so they chose an extra from another house." Draco said.
Harry nodded. This would explain why Ron had written to him five days after the Hogwarts letters had arrived to tell him that he was prefect. Though Harry had replied to none of their letters, Ron and Hermione had insisted on giving him a detailed description of their lives practically every day.
"Worked out fine though." Blaise laughed.
"Bloody hell, I'm tired. Where do the fifth years sleep?" Harry said, yawning.
"Well, down that passage and to the right. However, you have shown your ignorance of Slytherin affairs a little too obviously there. We prefects have our own rooms." Draco said, almost laughing at Harrys lack of knowledge.
"Yeah, but even without that status, we have two to a room, a double bed each and an on-suite bathroom. Did you know, in other houses they share up to six in a room and have one bathroom for the guys and one for the girls?!" Blaise said, a look of disgust on his face.
"Ugh, that is positively barbaric!" Pansy said. Harry had picked up that the whiny annoying girl he had known as 'Pansy' in previous years was, in fact, just an act.
"Why did I not become a Slytherin earlier?" Harry sighed and wiped away an imaginary tear. "It would have saved me from the horror that is Seamus and Dean in the morning."
"Oh," said Gregory Goyle, he and Vincent Crab also played at their apparent stupidity, "Gossip."
"Sorry, I still retain some of my Gryffindor loyalty. I cannot say."
"Hah, the Lions have no loyalty. Slytherin loyalty is what you're showing." Vincent said.
"'Slytherin loyalty'? Surely such a thing never existed!" Harry said.
"Watch it Potter," said Pansy, glaring. "We know where you sleep."
"Good, 'cause I' got no clue."
……………………
Perhaps, in light of this... unusual setting, I should give you a bit of background. You will no doubt be wondering why in Heaven and on Earth have the Slytherins not lynched our dear 'Golden boy'. The answer? Well, sit down, get comfy and try not to be disturbed. This is a rather odd story.
A/n: So? Do you like it? Hope so! Review please!! No flames. I ignore them.