Greetings. This was a request made on Instagram that I happily accepted and have been working on for a few days now. I look forward to retelling the stories we all know and love, revisiting the places and the characters but this time with a darker twist to it all. So, please read on and do not hesitate to leave reviews, as they help me keep moving on and working on my writing.
'Damn the sorting hat.' That was all that went through the mind of young Miss Granger as she sat down with a frown on the Slytherin table. During the train ride she had read through all four of the Houses in Hogwarts, studied their odds and ends and her own self-diagnosis had placed her in Ravenclaw. All the first years had stood in the middle of the great hall, nervous as to what table would seat them for the next seven years. The ginger boy, Weasley or whatever had been beside her as well, slightly nervous at standing so close to Harry Potter himself. She had read his entire biography which had been written in the History book she had bought at Flourish and Blots, written by Bathilda Bagshot. Her name was called, snapping her out of her reverie and she shakily but resolutely walked up to the wooden chair beside the tall witch dressed in green. Hermione closed her eyes as the worn leather of the Sorting Hat rested on her head and waited.
"Hmm… Interesting," said the article of clothing. "You have talent and a mind for knowledge. Ravenclaw would do well with you. But you are also brave and fear only that which should be feared. Bravery is a good trait in Gryffindor. And what of Hufflepuff? A house were alike minds meet, friends are made and bring each other up…" In her mind, Hermione pictured her life as a Hufflepuff and all she saw was others standing on her shoulders and pressing down on her, boosting themselves up with her sacrifices, much like the muggle children had done with her in the muggle schools she had attended, pretending to be her friends only to treat her as a slave. The thought was not necessarily appealing and the Hat noticed this. "So, where to put you… Not Hufflepuff, that much is clear to me. Ravenclaw would be a good choice as well as Gryffindor… Then it's decided. SLYTHERIN!" He shouted as loud as a hat could shout and Hermione looked aghast at the table far to her right, all of them clapping at the induction of a new student. 'Not possible!' She thought to herself as the Sorting Hat was taken off her head. "Very much possible." Replied the Hat as Minerva McGonagall hefted it in one hand and red the next name out loud.
On went the night. More first years made their way to the Sorting Hat and then meandered to their respective tables. At long last, the line grew shorter and it was Harry Potters turn. Minerva McGonagall looked on at the boy, seeing his scar and going back to the days when she had scouted the house in Privet Drive. He had grown… And it seemed that in more ways than one. Minerva smiled at Harry who made his way up the stone steps and felt genuinely happy as he gave her a nervous smile in return. To Harry, this all felt like a dream yet the leather of the hat sat heavy atop his head and the wooden chair was real enough beneath him. "Young… Potter…" Began the Sorting Hat, thinking to itself. There was chaos in this one, conflicting natures that battled for dominance. As with the Weasley boy, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw would not contain the spirit that burned within this boy. "Gryffindor would be a worthy house. Your parents belonged in it as did many of their friends. All of them brave, all of them courageous and most of them loyal." A hush fell over the crowd and the teachers at the table shifted around, talking amongst themselves. The Hat was of course referring to Sirius Black, the convicted murderer who had directed the Dark Lord to James and Lily Potters safe house. "And there is Slytherin, where you could be free… Where you could learn to be great… Then again… The wizard that gave you that scar-"
At this, Harry sighed. "He was also in Slytherin." Thoughts flew within young Potter's mind, mingling and crashing against each other in a cacophony of indecision. To many in the hall this was a deciding moment in history. Many made private bets amidst houses, the overwhelming majority saying he would go to Gryffindor, a few to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff and almost nobody saying that he would join Slytherin. Those that did were mocked, earning some jeers from the tables that slowly escalated until Dumbledore himself stood and lifted his hands, the gesture drawing the attention of all that could see. "Please, be quiet." He asked softly before sitting down once more, hand over his beard so as to not dip it in his bowl of soup.
The hall knew a silence that had almost never been heard of before with students within it. "Are you certain of this?" Asked the hat, knowing what went through Harry's mind. To Harry it was a simple choice. Many times had Petunia called Dudley her knight and brave warrior before turning a poisonous gaze at him, almost as if the sight of him made her physically ill. If that was what being a brave knight meant then he was happy leaving the spot in Gryffindor to someone else. "Very well then… SLYTHERIN!" Shouted again the Hat, not for the last time in that night, as Minerva grabbed the hat and gave a gentle to nod to Harry. He made his way to the cheering table, all of the students that sat around it standing as they roared their approval of the hats selection. Money changed hands, many bemoaning the trickery of fate on a few lost galleons and those that had made their winning bets grinned to themselves as their pockets grew fatter with gold.
Harry found the long curly hair of Hermione, his new friend whom he had met earlier in the train, talking to another Slytherin and sat beside them both. He mingled, talking to new people and socialized, many of the students fascinated with his scar, asking to see it and shaking their heads in amazement. They had not believed it until they saw it and now they were ecstatic to have such a notorious child-wizard in their house.
More students sat under the Hat and were sorted into different houses, who were followed by Ron, one of the last students left. "Ronald Bilious Weasley!" Called the professor, watching as the nervous ginger made his way up the steps, almost tripping in his hand-me down robes before sitting down on the wooden chair to her side. The Hat did its job and studied his mind. "Ron Weasley. Your entire family has belonged to Gryffindor House and it is a noble house to belong to indeed. Many great wizards came from it, brave warriors all of them and kind and just." To this Ron could only picture his siblings as they teased him and made jokes at his expense. To be fair it was part of family life but he didn't like, no. He slightly, almost microscopically shook his head. "So… you want to go down a different path?" Asked the hat, who knew what was in the mind of the young Weasley. Hearing this Fred and George Weasley turned to each other in surprise. What did the Sorting Hat mean? They asked themselves. Surely Ron would join them, his family. He had to. It was expected of him.
Ron then made a decision. He thought of a simple choice of words that he repeated over and over in his mind while the Hat worked its magic, 'Not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor…' He was done with tradition and blind faith. In his mind swirled the admonitions recited earlier that day by his mother, the enchanting Mrs. Weasley. All talking about the glory of belonging to the bravest house of them all, how she would knit him a nice sweater to send him to for Yuletide, and how all of his ancestors till back to when an ape first hit another ape with a rock had belonged in Gryffindor. Ron Weasley, one of the youngest in his family, who at only eleven had so many expectations on his shoulders.
"Not Gryffindor…? Then for you there is only one other house. Ravenclaw and Hufflepluff would be too tame for you, my friend. A place where you would thrive amongst your equals and those that want to wield unimaginable power… Perhaps a means to escape?" Young Ron pursed his lips, deep in thought. If he took this next step away from tradition it could very much mean tension with his family. But, he mused to himself, it would be a good beginning to ending the misconceptions around the Weasleys. This way he could prove they were not merely a family of weak redheads that survived on hand-me-downs. The Sorting Hat lay still for a moment, almost as if it were drinking in the tension. Over in the Gryffindor table sat Fred, George and Percy. The three were in deep conversation amidst the silence that reigned while people waited for the redhead to get sorted and to move on
"SLYTHERIN!" It bellowed and only then did many people begin murmuring, whispers filling the air of the great hall as they talked in hushed voices. Was this not one of the Weasley boys? Sure enough, he had a shock of red hair and by the fraying of his sleeves it could be seen that he was related to the terrible twins from Gryffindor. So what was he doing, joining Slytherin? Some talked in contempt, delighting in finding another reason to find fault in the humble family. Others talked with preoccupation, for it seemed to them that the apple had fallen away from the tree. None of them noticed the shock on the faces of those that sat at Gryffindor table, surprised and some distraught. They had heard good things about Ron from Percy and more than a story or two of embarrassing events. Fred and George talked on between themselves, not noticing their brother who now sat beside Hermione and was looking at them. He looked on for several more seconds and when they failed to meet his eyes he lowered his gaze at the table, heart beating rapidly in apprehension. He was a sheep amidst wolves, his red hair not the only thing that made him stand out.
At once, the hall went silent once again and everyone turned their heads to watch the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, stand and smiled kindly. "Let the feast… Begin!" He said, clapping his hands and waving them at the tables as if sending a ripple through the air, causing food to appear on the long wooden surfaces. Harry could not believe his eyes, there was so much food before him and so many choices. Hermione looked on with a light in her eyes, amazed at the power displayed so effortlessly and without a wand as well. Ron however was not as entertained by the show as he was by the copious amounts of food before him, distracted in a similar manner as Harry. The hall lost the voices of students and gained the sounds of hungry mouths eating to their hearts delight, small conversation sparking up between the first years and the more seasoned students. Harry turned to the blond youth who sat beside him and extended his hand, carefully wiping to one of the napkins provided. "I am Harry." He said, smiling.
The boy turned around from the rather boring conversation he had been having with a family friend of his called Crabbe and firmly shook the hand proffered. "Draco. Draco Malfoy." He replied with a grin. "You are Harry Potter." It was not a question, but rather an affirmation of awe and respect. Harry grinned as well and nodded. "It's nice to meet you." He said, grabbing a bite of fried chicken and enjoying the flavorful meat. He rarely ate as well as this when he had been with the Dursleys. Harry pointed at Ron and Hermione who were behind him, talking together. "These are Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley." Their names being mentioned, they both angled themselves to look past Harry. Hermione smiled politely and extended a hand. Draco looked at it and gave it a shake, some of the other Slytherins snickering as he did so. Hermione noticed but she did not say anything, filing away the occurrence in the deep banks of her memory in order to research what had caused it to happen. The Malfoy kid looked nice enough and he had shaken her hand even at the possibility of embarrassment to himself.
Ron knew Draco, at least his last name. The Malfoy's and the Weasley's had been at odds for decades, whenever Arthur and Lucius met in Diagon Alley tensions rose and the air could be cut with a knife. That was the reason that Ron had wanted to join Slytherin. If he could change them from within and show them that they could co-exist then it would all be worth it. Thus, Ron extended a hand as well, leaning over the table and almost spilling his cup of pumpkin juice, causing some of the older students to chuckle at his clumsiness. Ears almost as red as his own hair, Ron stuck out his hand for Draco to take. "R-ron Weasley. Nice to meet you." Draco looked at the redhead, eyes squinting slightly before slowly taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.
"Weasley?" Asked Draco once he released Ron's hand. "I've heard of your family before." Ron nodded once, swallowing noisily. "My dad works at the Ministry." He said, feeling a little nervous. Was Draco up to something? He wondered to himself before snapping back to reality as Draco gave him a grin. "I've heard of your dad. You seem like a nice guy though." Relief washed over Ron as he returned to his seat. The first step had been taken and now the long journey lay ahead. All acquainted now, the four ate while chatting amongst themselves, discovering each other's strengths and noting their uses. Well, at least Draco was noting down the strengths his new friends had. Such is the Slytherin way, to seek power and to use it however one deems fit. After all, might makes right, a concept that even Gryffindors understand though they may shy away from the opportunities presented by such a philosophy.
The night wore on and Draco knew some new things. Hermione possessed the gift of having an excellent memory and they both had some fun conversing in French while Ron and Harry looked on. Ron was a kind hearted Weasley, something that surprised Draco as the only references to the family he had were from his father. So, Draco learned that not all the things he was told by his father could be trusted. Harry was however, more intrigued by the scowling man that looked at the table and who seemed to be in a one-sided conversation with a turban-clad individual.
"Draco, who is that?" He said, pointing at the man who wore all black robes. The blond Slytherin turned around and saw. He grinned and pointed with a thumb over his shoulder. "That's our house-master, Severus Snape. He also teaches potions though my father tells me that he wants to teach Defense against the Dark Arts." Draco chuckled and took a sip from his goblet before continuing. "That guy with the weird head thing… I don't know who that is."
Harry did however. He had met the man in the Leaky Couldron while passing through with Hagrid. "Quirrel." He said and smiling as he felt Ron and Hermione lean over to his side. "Professor Quirrel… Odd, he didn't shake my hand when I met him. But he's the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher." Harry then felt as if someone were stabbing a thin knife through his temple, right along his scar. He gasped and clenched his teeth as his hand smacked against his forehead. Dracon, Ron and Hermione looked at him with concern and some alarm. "What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked, preoccupied but Harry waved it away. "It's nothing…" Although his eyes stung and he had to shake his head to clear it, it had hurt a great deal.
On went the time and they were dismissed to their common rooms, the students that had been sitting around the tables standing and making their exits, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs shouting and talking, mingling together. The prefects from Slytherin however chuckled to themselves and one of the females stood up at the head of the table. She had a shock of blue hair and mismatched eyebrows but her eyes denoted a sense of seriousness that belied her genial exterior. "Alright guys, while the rest of the heroes make their way up the stairs we are going down." The older Slytherins chuckled at themselves while the younger first years looked around. Just where was their common room, then?
"Down?" Asked one of the younger kids, a small boy with near-white hair, who seemed rather lost. "Yes, down." Replied the prefect and pointed at a spot near the teachers table, where Snape stood beside a large wooden door. "The other three houses have the common rooms in the towers. We have the dungeons." Harry and his friends looked as if someone had cast a stupefy curse on them. What did she mean? Draco muttered about his father hearing about this before they were swept up in the rush of Slytherins that made their way to their house-master. Orderly and surprisingly quiet, they walked along the tables and went through the door though when Harry and the rest were about to reach it, Snape stood before him and motioned to the side. "I'd like to have a… chat with Mr… Potter…" Slowly said the professor and Harry quickly stood to the side, Ron, Hermione and Draco following behind him. "Alone." Added Snape, eyeing with languid curiosity as the three returned to the large group of students that went on.
Harry waved goodbye at his friends and felt some happiness as they waved back. He was not used to having friends so this was a new experience for him. Snape stood silent beside the doorframe that had been carved into the stone walls, Harry dutifully standing at his side as the students glaced in curiosity at the two. Soon, the hall was empty and Snape turned to Harry, placing a hand on his small and rather thin shoulder. If the potions master was shocked at the malnourished state that Harry was in, he hid it well for nothing could be distinguished from his features save a mild frown. "You have your mothers eyes…" He commented, which shook Harry to the core.
"S-sir? You k-knew my parents?" He asked, curious. Perhaps he could answer some questions that Harry had been wondering about for years now. Snape nodded slowly, looking at Harry as if he held the answer to all questions and was a stubborn lock that had to be cracked. "Oh yes…" He said softly, glancing about the empty hall. "I… knew both of them. Your mother was a… kind hearted woman." There seemed to be something the memory of his mother that seemed to cause Snape discomfort and Harry did not press it further. Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "And my father?"
Unbeknownst to Harry, Snape's right eye twitched at the memory of James Potter but he let it go for the moment. "Him too… Though we were not exactly… friends…" It seemed to Harry that there was something going on. "Your father was a Gryffindor, like… your mother. I was sorted into Slytherin. Now, come along. It is time to go to the common room and I wish to talk to all of your house mates." Harry nodded absentmindedly, wondering what could have been the cause between this behaviors displayed by the professor. Granted, he had only met the man but Harry had a feeling that there was more to it all that Snape let on. He followed in silence, the billowing of the black robes in the air the accompaniment to their footsteps as they made their way lower into the castle, deep into the dungeons.
Snape led the way, wand raised in the air and flicking it once as he whispered the word 'Lumos,' the sound echoing softly in the hallways and the tip of his wand lighting up with a soft glowing light. "This way, Potter." He called as he made a sharp turn to the left, Harry struggling to keep up with the tall man and his long strides. On they went for a few more minutes, though to Harry it seemed a great deal longer than that as all of the passageways blurred into one long continuous hallway. At last they reached a large set of blackened iron double doors. On their surface could be seen a very intricately and detailed carving of a snake, the scales shimmering underneath the pale light of the spell cast by the professor. Harry stood still, somewhat afraid. He felt a connection to the snake, something primal… as if it were part of him. Its eyes glimmered red with small garnets and the body itself was inlaid with silver though the rest of the work was carved directly from stone and pressed into the iron of the doors. Whoever had built these doors had had a great deal of time and money in their hands. Harry felt the new weight of his wand within his pocket, his hand pressing it before looking at the door. "Is it magical?" He asked, though the professor stood still as if he had not heard the boy. Harry simply stared at the large snake, imagining it slithering off the iron and gliding over the floor. His heart beat harder and blood rushed into his ears as he imagined the snake turning to him, almost seeing the tongue flickering out as it approached his face...
As a matter of fact, Harry had spoken very softly and in a language he did not yet know he knew. The language of snakes and, some would say betrayal. To the layman (or woman) the idioms are terribly complicated to learn and many believe that it requires being descended from Salazar Slytherin himself to know this language. It is possible to learn it, however with the dark associations it has many wizards deem the notion of learning this language the passing fancy of many angst fueled moody students that study it in hopes of getting some shock value from the skill at their grandmothers' tea party. To himself, Harry merely asked if the door in question was of magical nature in perfectly good English and so, as neither party noticed anything odd happening, Snape and Harry stood before the door and waited.
What was happening at that moment was an initiation of sorts that had been started by Slytherin himself. It's objective had become murky over the centuries but the specifics were simple. Any Slytherin deemed worthy would stand before the doors of the Snake and they would open. If they did, then that student was a true member of the house of Slytherin. If they did not, their heart lacked the ambition and cunning to make proper use of their House. All Slytherins had those traits, but the doors had been enchanted to open before those that would be relentless with their gifts. Snape stood before the doors with his arms crossed, quietly going over the next day's lessons. He was somewhat relieved to see that the doors did not open before Harry, having seen Lily's eyes once more had been unsettling. He was glad that at least one of the students under his care was well… normal, at least in the eyes of the rest of the school. He would report this to Dumbledore of course, and he was glad for once to do so. The last time the doors had opened, Tom Riddle had been standing before them.
"Professor?" Asked Harry, losing his nervousness as he turned to Snape. "Professor, is there a reason you brought me here? I thought we were going to the common room…" Harry stopped and shrunk away from the tall potions teacher, the man's eyes gleaming with a sick luster. Snape had just relived an encounter he had had with James Potter many years back. The boy might have his mother's eyes but the rest was all from his father. Potter… The name resounded in his mind like an annoying fly that refused to be eradicated. This was going to be a long year, Snape knew that now.
With a flurry of cloth Snape turned around and stalked off on one of the passages behind them. "Over here, Potter." He called over his shoulder, a bewildered Harry following quickly behind.
Well now, you somehow made it to the end of this chapter. Do tell me what you think of it and what you'd like to see added to the story as well. I take all requests in consideration and weigh them against the general plan I have in mind. With that, I'll see you when I see you!